274

Flame Giant Surtur

Forseti retrieved several common medicinal materials from the Sanctuary space and placed them inside for identification, but none could substitute for dried bananas.

In Muspelheim, amidst the ongoing war, finding medicinal ingredients was challenging, so he postponed the matter for now.

Muspelheim was in a perpetual state of conflict. Under the iron rule of Asgard, Surtur's forces were steadily dwindling, their castles and fortresses reduced to rubble day by day.

Today was no different—the realm of fire, Muspelheim's capital, burned brightly.

Spanned by three rivers of magma, the Burning Realm was engulfed in relentless heat waves.

At the heart of the capital, where these rivers converged amidst the lava, stood a towering red pinnacle several thousand meters high.

This red pinnacle was none other than a volcano, also known as the Flame Giant Surtur's palace—the Burning Throne, as dubbed by the Nine Realms' tribes.

On the outskirts of the Burning Realm, Asgardian troops descended upon the city.

Joining Hela were three renowned Asgardian gods: Tyr, the God of War; Balder, the God of Light; and Karnira, Duchess of Norn, accompanied by thousands of Aesir warriors.

Hela stood at the forefront of the Asgardian gods, gesturing with her hands, summoning winds that surged as a colossal sword, over ten meters long, slowly materialized.

Unlike mere energy illusions, this sword was tangible—forged of her divine power, reshaping surrounding matter into her weapon.

Observing the sword taking shape, Forseti contemplated his own potential to manipulate air into weapons at will, akin to Zogar's ability to condense flame nearly to its essence. Could his flame powers evolve similarly in the future?

As the giant sword solidified, it turned to point directly at the gates of the Burning Realm.

With a thrust from Hela, the colossal sword shot forth.

"Boom!"

The city gate of the Burning Realm shattered immediately, collapsing inwards.

"For Asgard!"

"Odin's glory!"

A resounding cry echoed as Asgard's army surged into the Burning Realm, swiftly overwhelming the Muspel soldiers guarding the gate.

Forseti, much like his battle against Dragon Knight Zogar, wielded the Sword of Rivendell in his right hand and the Ice Blade with Venom in his left.

Venom, typically vulnerable to fire, could withstand the extreme cold of the Ice Blade, aiding Forseti's combat effectiveness here.

Accompanied by a dazzling holy light, Forseti plunged into the enemy ranks, his swords cutting down Muspel soldiers.

"Holy Light Consecration!"

Forseti drove the Sword of Rivendell and the Ice Blade into the ground, swiftly maneuvering along the battlefield, drawing a vast circle. The consecrated lines of holy light began enclosing hundreds of Muspel soldiers.

Initially ignorant of the holy light patterns on the ground, the Muspel soldiers attempted to escape the encirclement.

"Argh!"

As they stepped into the consecrated lines, they cried out in pain.

Some retreated hastily, some collapsed and couldn't rise again, and others suffered grievous wounds, triggering the sanctified power, severing their lower bodies upon moving a step.

Witnessing the might of Holy Light Consecration, the Muspel soldiers dared not risk further escape attempts.

Forseti didn't block their retreat but left a narrow gap in the circle, where he stationed himself.

Attempting to breach the Holy Light Consecration proved futile, compelling the encircled Muspel soldiers to converge at this narrow gap.

However, only five or six Muspel soldiers could pass through the gap at a time. Facing Forseti, they were swiftly overpowered and slain.

Thus, Forseti stood his ground, effortlessly cutting down Muspel soldiers with each swing of his blade, akin to feeding meat into a grinder.

In this manner, Forseti expended minimal effort. The vengeance feedback effect of the Sword of Rivendell triggered frequently against the Muspel soldiers, ensuring he faced little fatigue even after two minutes had elapsed.

Muspels were merely akin to demon kin, allowing for this efficiency.

Reflecting on the absence of such vengeance feedback during his encounter with demons at Vanaheim, Forseti imagined the potential carnage if it had existed... Such thoughts made him yearn to decimate the demon fields of Hell.

Throughout Asgard's relentless campaign, Muspelheim's forces dwindled, lacking the strength to counter Hela, Tyr, and others effectively.

Consequently, Forseti encountered no opponent capable of posing sustained resistance, his progress remarkably smooth. He personally accounted for the deaths of at least three to four hundred Muspel soldiers.

In terms of sheer kill count, he was undeniably among the battle's top contenders.

Credit for the top spot, however, belonged solely to Balder, the God of Light.

Endowed with divine light powers, Balder's radiance rivalled Forseti's. Wielding twin longswords, he unleashed dazzling light, sweeping away all in his path.

As the battle raged on, the Muspel disadvantage became increasingly apparent, with over half of their tens of thousands of soldiers perishing.

"Enough, Asgardians!"

At that moment, a thunderous roar echoed from the core of the Burning Realm—a rumble that shook the world.

"Boom—"

Subsequently, a colossal figure engulfed in flames vaulted from the volcano. Crowned with twin horns and towering several hundred meters tall, wielding a mountain-splitting giant sword—a fearsome sight.

The Flame Giant Surtur!

Surtur bore a visage of rage as he swung the Twilight Sword towards nearby God of War Tyr.

"Boom!"

Tyr was sent hurtling into the magma river with a single strike, taking some time to extricate himself, somewhat embarrassed.

"Odin Borson, your deceit knows no bounds!" Surtur disregarded Tyr, turning his fiery gaze towards the sky, his body enveloped in flames, a testament to his fury.

With Surtur's declaration, a golden radiance flickered across the heavens, revealing a majestic middle-aged man clad in golden armor—Odin. Mounted atop the eight-legged celestial steed Sleipnir, he personified Asgard's might as its King.

Odin regarded Surtur with unyielding calm. "Surtur, your indiscriminate slaughter and annihilation of innocents in Korbin—do you comprehend the magnitude of your sins?"

"Humph!" Surtur snorted derisively. "Do not feign virtue, Odin. Your hands are stained no less in the annihilation of innocents. Korbin was but a feeble world beyond the Nine Realms—your interest lies solely in my submission, to satiate your vanity."