“Conquest,” Asat Pramad uttered a single word, “Never-ending conquest!”
“Not satisfied with any existing territories, not fearing any unknown formidable enemies, not bound by any morals, rules, or orders, stepping everything that exists in the Universe under your feet, until the entire starry sea trembles before your name.”
His dice stopped spinning and settled on a certain face; the symbol on that face suddenly became clear—it was a crack-like pattern, emitting a dull purple glow.
“What do you think of this idea?”
Hela looked at him, the tip of her sword finally lowering by a few inches.
She stared at Asat Pramad’s dice, stared at the polyhedron that had suddenly stopped spinning, stared at the crack-like symbol.
She felt a temperament from this entity, a temperament she had never felt in anyone else—not the violence of a conqueror, not the majesty of a ruler, but a much deeper, almost nihilistic indifference.
That indifference was like a disdain for all existence in the world, like the calmness when standing on the edge of a bottomless abyss looking down, like the indifferent glance cast by an entity that had long seen through the essence of the Universe upon all insignificant disputes.
But beneath that indifference, something even deeper faintly emanated, something Hela didn’t know how to describe; if she had to find a word, it was probably—destruction.
Pure, absolute destruction without any purpose.
This feeling made her both alert and fascinated.
She was alert because she instinctively realized that the entity before her was even more dangerous than she imagined, and fascinated because this temperament resonated with a certain suppressed desire deep within her heart.
“Who on earth are you?” Hela asked again, but this time her tone was completely different from before.
It was no longer an aggressive interrogation, but an exploration, an exploration carrying guard yet unable to suppress curiosity.
Asat Pramad reached out and straightened the bow tie at his collar.
This action carried a casual elegance, like tidying up clothing during a break for afternoon tea, completely unlike facing an angry Goddess of Death and her giant wolf.
“Standing before you is a practitioner of an ideal,” he said.
“A person who believes that the Universe should return to its original appearance—chaos, war, destruction, devouring.
These are not errors that need to be corrected, but the true nature of how the Universe operates.
The so-called peace and order are nothing more than a layer of self-deceiving veil that shatters at the first blow of the wind.”
He paused, and the dice began to spin slowly again.
“Your father wants to maintain this veil, and you want to tear it apart.”
Hela’s gaze flickered.
Asat Pramad took another step forward.
The distance between him and Hela was now less than fifteen steps.
Fenrir’s low growl had turned into the final warning before launching an attack, but Hela did not order the giant wolf to attack.
She was waiting, waiting for this strange entity to finish speaking.
“So, Goddess of Death Hela.” Asat Pramad’s voice lowered slightly, carrying a hint of strange bewitching power.
“Are you really resigned to this?
Are you really willing to let your ambitions abort here, completely negated by your father with a single sentence of ‘enough’?”
“Are you really willing to watch the Nine Realms stop here, watching the flag of Asgard forever restricted to being planted only on these already conquered territories?”
“Are you really willing to wait thousands of years, until Odin grows old or dies, before realizing your ideal—and by that time, the pattern of the Universe might have long been set, and you will have missed the best opportunity?”
Every question was like a precise blade, cutting into the most vulnerable part of Hela’s heart.
Her breathing obviously grew a bit heavier, dark green divine power surging around her, and the temperature in the air seemed to drop by a few degrees.
“Shut up!” she said, but there was no longer the oppressive force in her voice as before.
Asat Pramad did not shut up; he knew the timing was right.
“I am not your enemy, Hela.
On the contrary, I might be the only person in this Universe who understands you,” Asat Pramad said, his tone turning sincere, sincere to the point of being dangerous.
“Because I am also an entity negated by someone like your father.
Where I am from, there is also a group of people who claim to be righteous, under the banner of peace and order, trying to block my path.”
“But they don’t understand, just like Odin doesn’t understand you.”
“True greatness has never been about living in peace and contentment within existing territories.
True greatness is never being satisfied, always moving forward, always turning the unknown into the known, turning enemies into subjects, and turning stars into territory.”
Hela’s hand holding the sword trembled slightly—not out of fear, but because these words were too accurate, accurate enough to slice open her chest with a blade, directly piercing the hottest part of her heart.
She slowly lowered her sword.
The tip of the sword pointed at the ground, and the dark green sword body still circulated with light, but the threatening posture had disappeared.
Hela raised her head, staring directly at the dice suspended in the large purple hand.
“What on earth do you want?” Hela asked, her voice returning to calm, but that calmness was not the cold oppression of before, but a caution after deep consideration.
“You found me and said these things to me, surely not just to comfort a daughter reprimanded by her father.
Tell me your purpose.”
Asat Pramad nodded inwardly.
Hela was indeed smart; the speed at which her emotions settled was even faster than he had anticipated.
She could be moved, but she wouldn’t be easily hoodwinked.
This was an opponent worth taking seriously, and also a potential ally worth investing in.
“What I want is very simple,” Asat Pramad said.
“An ally.”
“An ally?”
“Yes, an ally.” Asat Pramad nodded.
“I am an outsider with no foundation in the Nine Realms.
I need a sufficiently powerful local force as a fulcrum, and you, Hela, are the crown princess of Asgard, the Goddess of Death, and the most powerful entity in this Nine Realms.
More importantly, you and I fundamentally share the same ideals.”
“So you want to use me?” Hela’s gaze turned dangerous again.
“The word ‘use’ is too low-level.” Asat Pramad shook his head.
“What I’m talking about is cooperation.
You help me, and I help you.
I have intelligence, technology, and power that you lack, and you have the foundation, influence, and status that I lack.
We each have what the other needs—this is the foundation of cooperation.”
Hela was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed.
It was a sharp and cold smile, like moonlight refracting off cold ice.
“You speak very nicely, but without specifics, how do you expect me to believe you?
Just because you bypassed Asgard’s border defenses?
Just because you said a bunch of words that sound pleasing to my ears?”