High upon the dais, Odin stood at the forefront.
Despite being upstaged by his eldest son, he could do little but endure it.
He knew Karsa all too well—when it came to sheer, brazen flamboyance, no one in the palace could compare.
What made it worse was that Karsa’s power was absurdly, unreasonably high; even the All-Father wasn’t entirely certain he could suppress him.
Fortunately, aside from his host of bad habits, Karsa showed zero ambition for the throne.
If he had, the crown would never have reached Thor in the first place.
For that reason, Odin had largely left him to his own devices over the years.
As long as he didn’t cause a catastrophe, Odin simply turned a blind eye.
Seeing that everyone had gathered, Odin finally declared the ceremony underway.
At the sound of a resonant horn, Thor—clutching Mjolnir and grinning with a guileless, foolish heartiness—stepped onto the red carpet.
The subjects erupted in cheers, a wave of laughter and joy that swept across the entire city.
Far away at the Bifrost, Heimdall leaned on his massive sword, his hands resting on the hilt.
Hearing the commotion, the corners of his mouth tilted upward in a rare smile.
He was the guardian of Asgard, having followed Odin for countless ages, and he had watched the three princes grow from childhood.
Interestingly, the one who pleased him most wasn’t the brilliant Karsa, but the slightly less capable Thor.
Unlike the eldest prince’s cold arrogance, Thor valued friendship and camaraderie, even if his innate goodness remained buried beneath his love for combat.
Once he finally awakened that inner wisdom, he would surely be a fine king.
Back at the plaza, a sudden hush fell over the crowd.
Odin held the Gungnir, his single eye fixed on the kneeling Thor.
“Do you swear to protect the Nine Realms?” “I swear!” Thor bellowed.
“Do you swear to preserve the peace?” “I swear!” “Do you swear to cast aside your own ambitions and serve only the realm you are sworn to protect?” Thor raised his hammer high.
“I swear!” “At this moment, I, Odin, as your father, declare you—” Just as the words “King of Gods” were about to leave his lips, Odin’s expression shifted.
He sensed an anomaly within the vault.
Frost Giants?
The joy vanished from the faces of the crowd, and even Thor’s smile froze.
Jotunheim was incredibly far from Asgard, and without the Bifrost, how could they have bypassed Heimdall’s watch to infiltrate the divine realm?
Though the realization was hard to believe, no one doubted the All-Father’s word.
Guards began to scatter, shouting orders to put the city on high alert.
Watching the panic and confusion ripple through the people, Karsa remained with his arms folded, his expression dripping with disdain.
A small-fry like Laufey, King of the Frost Giants?
Karsa thought.
He could wipe them out with a single command to his “Heroic Spirit” legion.
Was all this fuss really necessary?
And his silly younger brother, Loki—what a meticulously crafted plan.
If Karsa didn’t already know the plot, he wouldn’t have guessed it was Loki’s handiwork.
Regardless, the coronation was now dead in the water.
Guards soon reported that they had found the corpses of the infiltrators, reduced to scraps by the Destroyer armor.
Inside the throne room, upon hearing that Frost Giants had dared to raid the vault, Thor exploded in fury.
“Those damnable Frost Giants!
They’ve ruined my day of glory!
They will pay for this!” “They have already paid with their lives!” The All-Father sat on his throne, the image of the mangled limbs fresh in his mind.
His face turned a shade of sickly grey; he could instinctively smell the stench of a deeper conspiracy.
“This is war!
This is a declaration of war from Laufey!” Thor was so close to the crown that he couldn’t let it go.
“Father, grant me permission to lead the army and trample Jotunheim!
I want Laufey to know that even if I am the new king, I am not someone he can easily slight!” Thor had expected his request to be granted, but for Odin, it was a headache-inducing demand.
In his eyes, a true king needed the wisdom to see the larger picture, not someone who would start a war over a minor provocation.
That wasn’t a noble ruler; that was a tyrant.
“Be silent!” Odin roared, his presence overwhelming.
His face, twisted in frustration and disappointment, was stern.
“You are not yet king!
Asgard does not need your permission to speak!” Thor was silenced instantly, his face flushing a deep, embarrassed red.
The scene of “affectionate” father and son left Loki standing to the side, too terrified to utter a sound.
Only Karsa remained as he was, arms crossed, casually digging at his ear as if he were completely oblivious to the tension.
He simply didn’t care about the Frost Giants.
Jotunheim was, to him, a place he could destroy with a flick of his wrist; there was no reason to lose his temper over it.
After the dressing-down, Odin glanced at his other two sons.
Seeing Karsa’s detached, lazy expression, he felt as if he had swallowed a fly.
None of his biological sons ever gave him a moment’s peace; being the King of Gods was truly exhausting.
Once the meeting was dismissed, Karsa walked out of the hall alone.
Because of his abrasive arrogance, his relationship with his brothers had always been strained, so there was nothing for him to say to them.
Thor, still simmering with frustration from the scolding, hurried off to his own palace.
Loki, however, followed.
The first step of his plan—disrupting the coronation—was complete.
Now he needed to enact the second step: goading Thor into attacking Jotunheim.
Thor was always a brute.
Loki, under the guise of offering comfort, used his silver tongue to manipulate the prince.
Soon enough, Thor was convinced to storm into Jotunheim alone to demand justice from Laufey.
Normally, this would have been a delightful outcome, but Thor had a whimsical idea: he wanted to drag Loki along.
Loki panicked.
Jotunheim wasn’t just dangerous; it was a death trap.
How could they just walk in?
“Thor, you can’t be this reckless!
If we go like this, we’re just throwing our lives away!” “Loki, don’t worry!
I’ll show them the true power of an Asgardian prince!” “No, no, no—this isn’t about power!” Loki’s face went pale.
He was good at schemes and tricks, but standing on the front lines against Frost Giants?
That was suicide.
“No, I must go,” Thor insisted.
“I have to find out how they reached the realm, or else Asgard will become the giants’ private backyard.” Thor’s righteous tone left even the most eloquent trickster speechless.
Loki, never one for genuine adventure, made a final, desperate plea.
“Then at least…
at least call Karsa.
With the twelve Gold Saints there, even Laufey would have to think twice.” “Please.
Do you honestly think Karsa would bother with our affairs?” Loki fell silent.
Yes.
That arrogant, wretched man would never bother with their troubles.
If Karsa saw them being surrounded by Frost Giants, he’d probably complain that the fight wasn’t entertaining enough!
Honestly, Loki thought, why on earth did such a miserable bastard have to be my brother?