Chapter 18: Two faces

The glory of victory can mask what truly dwells in the hearts of those who achieve it. At times, applause and celebration are only the curtain hiding a deeper tension: expectation, the fear of failure, the pressure of not disappointing.

Nork erupted in jubilation. The first match was over, and the result favored them. Yet while Kou’s name was chanted by his comrades, he lowered his gaze, as though his thoughts weighed heavier than the ovation. Victory does not always bring relief… sometimes, it only adds to the burden.

Elsewhere, Eden turned the pages of a book with a furrowed brow, searching for answers in the words of others. What was at stake in the next battle was not only his pride, nor even the reputation of his institute: it was the promise he had made to himself, never to return empty-handed. Can a single match redeem an entire past? Can one precise strike redraw destiny?

Meanwhile, in the silence of her chamber, Aphrodite reflected. Not on the battle, but on the boy in whom Shun had placed his hope. Eden was not the strongest, nor the wisest, yet there was something in his eyes that reminded her of Gen… that mix of restrained pain and relentless determination. Perhaps it was not about winning or losing. Perhaps what truly mattered was the fire one chose to ignite in the midst of the cold.

Because sometimes, the greatest enemy is not before us, but within. And it has no face, no sword. Only a voice repeating again and again that it isn’t enough. That we will fail.
But even that voice can be silenced.

——————————————————————————————————————————

The cries of the crowd still reverberated against the frozen walls of the arena. Among the cheers, Kou’s name repeated like a mantra of euphoria and pride. The students of Nork lifted him on their shoulders, shouting with raised arms while waving the institute’s flags.

From the center of the group, Rei raised his fist with overflowing enthusiasm.
“We’ll go for the second victory!” he roared with a smile, spreading his excitement to those around him.

Yet not everyone shared in that euphoria. Just a few steps away, Kou remained silent, arms crossed, eyes cast downward. His vacant expression did not match that of a victor.
“Come on, Nai,” Rei asked, turning to his companion with a raised eyebrow, “why the face?”

Kou did not answer. He lowered his head further, forcing a smile that never reached his eyes.

A memory seized him.
A few minutes earlier…

The backstage corridor was steeped in shadow. Rei had just left with a carefree gesture. Kou had barely begun to relax when he felt Nai’s presence blocking his path.

Before he could say a word, Nai’s fingers clamped tightly around his neck.
“What the hell are you doing, Nai?” Kou rasped.
“That’s my question to you,” his companion spat, bringing his face close, rage held barely in check. “Why the hell did you struggle so much?”
“What are you talking about? Let me go!”
Nai tightened his grip.
“You hesitated to tear him apart. Didn’t you?”

Kou struggled, desperate to break free.
“I was just… having a little fun. What’s wrong with that?”

“Fun?” Nai lifted him with one hand and hurled him against the wall with a dull crash. “If you hadn’t won, we would have been humiliated. Don’t forget: in this team, there is no place for the weak.”

Silence swallowed the corridor again as Nai walked away, leaving Kou trembling and humiliated on the floor.

Back to the present…

While the chants continued and Rei celebrated like a child at a fair, Kou swallowed. The echo of the threat still buzzed in his ears.
“We better win…” he murmured to himself, his jaw trembling slightly. “If not, that guy could go mad…”

He glanced at Rei, who kept shouting with his arms raised.
“Good luck, friend,” Kou whispered, a mix of affection and pity in his voice. “I hope you never have to see his other face.”

Eden’s room lay in an unusual quiet. The curtains, slightly parted, let the pale afternoon light fall across his thoughtful face. A book rested open in his lap, though his eyes were not fixed on the letters but on the void beyond the window.
“If only I could acquire those abilities…” he murmured, not taking his gaze off the horizon.

He turned a page without reading. His mind was elsewhere — in the arena, on the coming fight, on everything at stake.
“If I lose tomorrow…” he whispered, lowering his eyes to his own hands. “I’ll come back having done nothing.”

His fingers clenched the sheets. He breathed deeply.
“No. I must win. I have to. For Shu. For Isaac. For me.”

Across the lodging, water droplets tapped softly against the surface of a marble tub. Aphrodite closed her eyes and submerged herself for a moment in the warm water, trying to forget the weight of responsibility.
“We need to win the next round,” she thought quietly. “But everything will depend on him.”

Her gaze rose to the steam-clouded ceiling.
“Will he be able to use his demonic powers? Shun… did you really place all your hopes in this boy?”

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
“Who is it?” she called.
“It’s me,” Eden’s firm voice answered from behind the door. “I need your help.”

A small sigh escaped her lips.
“Come in.”

The conversation lasted several minutes. When Eden left, the goddess of love remained silent, watching the water cool. A faint smile curved her lips.
“That boy… he’s a lot like you, Gen. You raised him well.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting memories caress her mind.
“I didn’t expect him to use that technique. What did Odin show him to change him so much?”

Outside the lodging, the cold was beginning to take hold of the air. Eden stood alone in the clearing behind the cabin, his grandfather’s sword planted in the snow.
His eyes were closed. His breathing controlled.
“Focus…” he told himself. “Let the energy flow.”

A slight tremor ran through him as the darkness began to envelop him. Demonic energy welled up from within, climbing his arms, circling his legs, until it wrapped around the blade.
“Now!”

In a flash, the energy was absorbed by the sword, which pulsed as if it had a life of its own.

But in that moment, his heart stopped. The world went white. His knees gave out. He fell to the ground gasping, as if the air had been ripped from his lungs.
“Damn it…” he ground out, his face buried in the snow. “I still can’t control it…”

He rested his forehead on the frozen ground while his breathing slowly returned to normal.
“I have to manage this. I have to do it in the next few days… or I won’t have a chance.”

The crunch of snow made him turn his head.
“Not bad at all…” said a familiar voice.

Balder emerged from between the trees, hands in his pockets and a calm smile on his face.
“You seem like a different person. Your aura is nothing like it was a few days ago. What happened?”
“Nothing special,” Eden replied, rising slowly to his feet.
“I see…” Balder stopped a few steps away, studying him closely. “Looks like you need help with whatever it is you’re trying to do.”
“Maybe…”
“I know the right person for that.”

Eden looked at him with suspicion.
“Who?”
“An old acquaintance. Though perhaps… she may not be able to help you right now.”
“Thanks for the offer, but… why are you doing this?”
Balder raised his gaze to the overcast sky.
“Who knows. Maybe I just want to leave this world in peace, having helped as many people as I could.”
“But I’m your enemy.”
“I don’t have enemies, only rivals. And you seem like a good guy.”

Eden lowered his eyes.
“You’re wrong…”
“Am I? Well then… I’ll just hold on to my mistaken theory.”

A faint laugh escaped Eden’s lips.

Balder stepped forward and extended his hand.
“Coming?”
“Where to?”
“Isn’t it obvious? We’re going to see my old acquaintance.”

Without waiting for an answer, he opened a radiant portal before them. Eden hesitated for an instant… then followed.

And the world changed around him.

Crossing the portal, a freezing gust struck Eden head-on. The dry, biting air seeped into his bones. Before him stretched a bleak landscape: dark mountains lost in mist, frost blanketing the earth as though time had frozen in the middle of winter.
“Welcome to Helheim,” Balder said without turning, “the world of the dead.”

Eden took a step forward, still reeling from the sudden shift in temperature.
“This is the underworld?” he murmured.
“Yes. Though it’s not what you imagined, is it?”
“I thought it would be hot.”
“The mistress of this place does not like heat.”

Eden looked around carefully. Hundreds of skeletons wandered aimlessly among the crags, their movements slow and purposeless. They did not speak. They did not scream. They simply existed.
“What’s wrong with them?” he asked quietly.
Balder gazed at them with sorrow.
“Nothing. And that’s the worst part.”

A heavy silence settled until a raspy, firm voice shattered it.
“What are you doing here, Balder?”

From the shadows emerged an imposing figure. Her skin was pale as frost, her glacial blue eyes seemed to pierce through flesh and soul. Long hair, the color of mist, fell over a black robe adorned with bones.
“Hela,” Balder said, lowering his eyes in respect. “Old friend.”
“Don’t you dare call me that,” she replied coldly.
“Yes, my apologies…”

The tension between them was palpable. Eden watched in silence, not daring to interrupt.
“What brings you to my realm?” Hela asked, folding her arms.
“I came to ask you a favor,” Balder said calmly.
“Whatever it is, I refuse.”
“Please, it’s not for me,” he said, nodding toward Eden. “It’s for him.”

Hela looked at him with indifference.
“I already said no.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Balder insisted.

Hela’s icy eyes narrowed.
“Whatever it takes?”
“Yes.”

Silence stretched as the goddess analyzed him. Finally, she sighed.
“Well… it seems you care deeply for that boy.”
“Maybe.”
“Fine. What do you need?”
“I want you to help him train,” he explained calmly. “His abilities are similar to yours. There’s no one better than you to teach him.”

Hela lowered her gaze toward Eden, as if trying to see beyond his physical form. Something in her eyes hardened for an instant.
“Not now,” she said at last. “I have urgent matters to attend to. But after the tournament… I will.”
“Thank you, Hela,” Balder murmured, genuinely relieved.

She didn’t answer. She simply fixed her gaze on Eden’s eyes.
“So you’re the demon,” she said quietly, her voice heavy with judgment. “What is it Balder saw in you…?” Her voice faded to a whisper. “But more importantly… what are you hiding?”

Eden held her gaze without flinching. He said nothing.
“Until next time, Hela,” Balder said, and a new portal opened.

Both vanished into the light.

Hela stood motionless. After a few seconds, a shadow emerged behind the frozen throne. Its silhouette was unmistakable.
“I ask you the same question, Father,” she whispered without looking at him.

Loki stepped out of the shadows with a crooked smile.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“So he’s at that level…?”
“You’ll see soon enough,” he replied, vanishing like smoke into the darkness.

Night had fallen over Asgard, draping the golden roofs with a blanket of twinkling stars. Yet inside the palace, a heavy air lingered within the walls. Balder, leaning against a marble column, breathed heavily. Images from the dream still haunted him.
“Again…” he whispered, pressing a trembling hand to his chest.

The shadows in the hall seemed to lengthen, as if listening to his agitation. Suddenly a familiar voice sounded behind him, terse and concerned.
“Balder… what happened?”

Odin appeared from the end of the corridor. His armor was still dusted from the journey, his face tense and grave. At the sight of him Balder straightened, but did not answer at once.
“I saw it again, Father,” he said finally. “My death.”

Odin’s face tightened. He said nothing—only nodded with eyes heavy with a truth he dared not speak aloud. Balder, meanwhile, lowered his gaze.
“This time it was different. I felt the cold… the blood… even Mother’s lament.”

“Don’t say that,” Odin growled, as if the mere word “mother” tore something inside him. “You can’t give in. It is not your hour yet.”

“And what if it is?” Balder asked without lifting his eyes. “What if all this is already written?”

“Then we will rewrite it.”

The silence that followed was louder than any promise. Balder turned to his father, noticing something odd in Odin’s eyes.
“Where have you been?”

Odin hesitated. Finally he answered,
“To Helheim… and then to Niflheim.”

Balder raised his brows in surprise.
“So worried?”

“I will not lose another son,” Odin said in a firm voice. “If I must confront fate itself, I will.”

“And what did they tell you?”

Odin clenched his fists. His gaze moved toward the palace windows, as if he could break the night with his will.
“That you will die.”

Balder did not move.
“Then… it’s decided.”

“No!” Odin’s cry rolled like a muted thunder. “I will not accept it! I will not let Ragnarök begin with you!”

Balder stepped toward his father, but this time it was he who spoke with force.
“What if there is nothing you can do, Father? What if my death is necessary for something greater to happen?”

“Do you dare speak to me of sacrifice?” Odin growled. “I have given everything for this world. I will not have my children immolate themselves for it.”

“Perhaps this time it is not about what you want,” Balder replied calmly. “Perhaps it is about what the world needs.”

Odin stood motionless. On his face flickered something he had never shown Balder before: fear.
“I will not allow you to die, my son,” he said at last. “I will seek another solution. Even if I must tear it from the prophet of Black Lights himself.”

Without another word he turned and disappeared into the dark corridor.

Balder watched him go, and when he was left alone he let out a deep sigh.
“Who decides destiny?” he murmured. “Gods, prophets… or only death?”

Far off, the wind stirred the banners. And in the palace shadows, a small crack formed… quiet, invisible… inevitable.

The perspective shifts, showing Odin standing perfectly still, surrounded by the darkness of his chamber and a profound silence. He tightened his fists. The certainty of the vision weighed on his bones.
“No…” he muttered hoarsely, his eyes fixed beyond the horizon. “I will not allow it to happen.”

The wind rose with an almost divine howl, as if the world itself trembled at his words.
“I will not allow Ragnarök to occur… I promise…”

As Odin finished speaking, a gigantic mural was revealed—a vast tapestry of drawings, like a warning of what is to come.