713 Gungnir (1/2)

The old musician pressed down on his white hair as they flowed in the hot and fiery wind.

The sounds of the friction of metal were coming from all directions. Those massive pieces of metal were being pushed together by the machinery, letting out ear-shattering roars. Amidst all the sparks, an incredible power was being gathered in the center.

Black clouds trembled from the huge roar like an iron curtain that was being beaten. The ceiling vibrated, causing countless ashes and dust to fall. What was originally a pure white tower was now coated with a layer of black.

The foul stench of sulfur filled the air and seemed to be capable of taking over the air. They came in huge gusts, so much so that people found it difficult to stand steadily. One might be at the top of the tower but in this hot and gloomy world, one could still hear the sound of crashing waves. It was as if the waves were crashing from all directions and the sounds they created would stack on top of one another. These sounds combined with the huge metal roars and the overall atmosphere was one of unease. It was as if the moisture of the water was soothing a very dry throat so as to save the soul of a body that was burning with heat.

Only by standing at the edge of the tower and looking downwards would one truly feel despair and hopelessness. One could only see waves crashing at the tower in all directions, and their color was red like fresh blood. There was a hell-like glow to these waves. They were flames. The red river of flames flowed underneath the gloomy skies, turning the iron curtain into a fiery red.

The molten lava brought flames and the power of hell as they provided the power for countless massive machines to continue operating and for the machinery with continue splitting the air with their sharp edges.

”This is just like hell,” the old musician muttered under his breath. He did not dare to look down anymore. Behind him came the sounds of hurried footsteps on the metal ladder. A middle-aged man was panting while climbing up the tower. When he reached the old musician, he handed over a document and reported, ”My Lord, the west line has sent over this piece of information.”

The old musician lowered his head and flipped through this urgent report sent over from the Stronghold on Sea. Instead of becoming furious and upset like The Elders, he laughed. ”He is a young man after all. His words may be serious and solemn but there will always be a bit of ego and pride in him.” He could almost see the grim look on Rommel's face. He tossed the document into the air, and pieces of paper were quickly shredded in the wind before falling and vanishing like dust.

The middle-aged officer pretended not to hear anything. He only lowered his head. ”The Elders will want to hear your views.”

”I don't have any views. Don't use a man you suspect and don't suspect a man that you are using. I believe His Majesty will agree with this.” The old musician kept his hands in his sleeves and seemed helpless. ”There are some things in this world that will never change, no matter how what you say or what order you give, unless the person experiences the pain personally. Our opponent is the Prince of Avalon, who is a monster. There is no shame in losing out to him, and there is no need to point fingers. Since we have already decided to place our trust in the youth, then we should leave the outcome of the battle to them.”

The middle-aged officer kept quiet for a moment before asking him a question that an elder had asked him to. ”Do you think we will lose?”

The old musician pondered for a moment and suddenly broke into laughter. ”Even The Elders are afraid? Afraid that this world will give up on itself… My apologies, I am not a sorcerer nor a fortune-teller. This is not something I can control. I can only confirm one thing.” The old musician took a glance at him and continued calmly, ”If luck and fate are not on our side, then the Asgardians must not believe in fate. It's as simple as that.”

The officer stayed silent for a long time before finally leaving.

The old musician stood quietly in this hell-like environment. No one knew how much time had passed before there was finally silence and the countless roars finally dissipated. It was as if the entire world had been muted, except for the sound of thick breathing beside his ear.

A crooked figure appeared suddenly from the shadows. He raised his head to reveal a wrinkled face. On his hooked nose rested a pair of heavy glasses that were full of dust. His voice sounded like metal plates grating against each other. ”My Lord, the godly nature of Odin has been successfully shifted into the Tree of World. We are awaiting your order.”

”Then, let's begin.” The old musician turned back and smiled. ”Youngsters tend to be careless and impulsive when they do things. Sometimes, they will make mistakes. As their elders, we must try to understand them and give them a helping hand in times of need.”

The crooked figure bowed deeply before vanishing into the shadows.

Shortly after, the entire area began to dim suddenly. Beneath the iron curtain, the river of flames that were gathering from all directions seemed to flicker in the wind. It was as if an invisible monster had opened up its mouth and swallowed the light heat of hell. The tower shook violently.

From the bottom of the tower to the hubs in all four directions, the nine major burning seas and 36 streams of molten lava were quickly losing their glow as they began to cool down and congregate and break down. The light that was a sign of the burning iron curtain disappeared. Amidst the darkness, a pair of eyes opened in the depths of the tower.