Capítulo 37: Chapter 36
Old Loki's face turned grim.
There wasn't actually a universal limit on teleportation, but for him, there might as well have been. He was too old now, too diminished. Unlike the Aesir, who grew stronger with age, Frost Giants weakened over time. His dwindling strength no longer allowed him to sustain the mental energy needed to seek out new spatial coordinates after a teleportation.
Realization dawned on him.
"You deliberately made it look like you were going to betray us during dinner!" Old Loki snapped, his voice trembling with both anger and disbelief. "Why?"
The black Loki's face contorted into a twisted snarl.
"Why?" he echoed, his tone dripping with venom. "You dare to ask me why?"
He jabbed a finger at the others, his voice rising with fury.
"Because you have powerful phantom magic! Because that brat has the Sword of Vulcan! Because even that miserable crocodile has more fighting ability than me!" His words came out in a bitter rush. "And now you want to leave this area, heading to places even more dangerous? You didn't even consider me! I'd be the first to die!"
Old Loki stared at him, aghast.
"You ungrateful wretch," the young Loki spat, stepping forward, the Sword of Vulcan gleaming ominously in his hands. "If we hadn't taken you in when you first arrived, you'd be long dead! And for your information, the decision to leave was made tonight! You betrayed us before we even decided!"
But Black Loki wasn't listening. His expression twisted into a maniacal grin.
"Now, it's your turn to die!" he howled, before shouting to the heavens, "Mr. Red Devil! My mission is complete!"
The name echoed through the cave.
Old Loki and young Loki exchanged confused glances.
"Red Devil?" the young one muttered. "Wasn't the bounty issued by... Loki?"
They didn't have time to process the thought. A soft pop broke the tense silence. A figure materialized—slender and sinister, dressed in a burgundy suit. His skin was an unnerving shade of crimson, his face sharp and devilish. Behind him flicked a long, prehensile tail, curling like a serpent ready to strike.
Young Loki raised the Sword of Vulcan instinctively, and Old Loki's hands glowed green as magic gathered around them. Both felt a deep unease—this wasn't a Loki variant.
The devilish figure smirked.
"Well done, Black Loki," he said, his voice smooth and dripping with mockery. "You've served me well."
Black Loki puffed out his chest, unbothered by the demeaning tone. "Mr. Red Devil, I've completed my mission. So now, I can join Lady Cassandra's organization, right?"
The Red Devil's lips curled into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Oh, of course."
Before Black Loki could savor his triumph, the devil's tail lashed out like a whip. The sharp tip pierced through his skull with a sickening crunch.
"No!" Black Loki gasped, his eyes wide with shock as he crumpled to the ground.
The Red Devil tilted his head, mockingly addressing the lifeless body. "You're a Loki. What organization would be foolish enough to take you in?"
His gaze flicked to the other two Lokis.
"Don't you agree?"
Old Loki and young Loki tensed. The air grew thick with danger.
"You're an outsider," Old Loki said cautiously, his green magic crackling in his palms. "We have no quarrel with you."
The Red Devil shrugged, his tail flicking lazily. "True, but your bad luck is none of my concern." He gestured toward Old Loki. "And your illusions? Quite realistic, I'll admit. Too bad they're useless."
With a swift flick of his tail, the figures of Old Loki and young Loki shimmered and vanished into thin air.
Several meters away, the real Old Loki and young Loki, clutching the crocodile, were sprinting into the night. They stopped abruptly, green sparks suddenly erupting behind them.
Ruined City — Stark Tower
Russell stood on the edge of the rooftop, gazing into the gloom of the distant plain. The days of waiting had tested his patience. The bounty had stirred no useful responses, and his frustration grew.
He sighed. "A few more days, and that's it. Then I move north. No point waiting here forever."
The plan to establish a base was already scrapped. Lokis were unreliable—too self-serving to trust with any long-term endeavor.
Suddenly, a flash of dazzling green light pierced the darkness, flaring briefly before vanishing.
Russell straightened, his senses sharp. "That's not an illusion. That scale of phantom magic... Old Loki?"
There was no hesitation. His Venom suit unfurled, wrapping him in its sleek, black armor. With a burst of soundwaves, he launched into the air, disappearing into the night.
Back in the underground cave, Russell's arrival was swift. He scanned the area. The signs were subtle but telling. Supplies were still neatly stacked in the corner—untouched, not looted.
On the ground lay a body, its lifeless eyes frozen in shock. Russell recognized him immediately.
"Black Loki," he muttered. "So, he found them."
But where were the others? And why had Old Loki been forced to use his phantom magic so suddenly? There were no signs of a struggle.
"Something's not right," he mused, his mind racing.
Fire erupted from his body, scorching everything in sight. The heat melted stone into molten pools, flames carving through the earth like a force of nature.
Then, amidst the chaos, a sound broke through—a faint crack.
Russell turned, his gaze piercing the darkness.
Something was coming.
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