Hel wandered through Orario’s streets, the morning sun already climbing high enough to warm the cobblestones beneath her boots. For once, she didn’t hurry. She had no dungeon to descend, no mortal to guide, no god to outwit. Just the soft hum of city life and the smell of breakfast cooking at every corner.
She paused at a food stall near the main plaza, exchanging a few valis for a skewer of grilled meat. The vendor smiled nervously — most mortals did around her, though they couldn’t have said why. She didn’t mind. It was better that way.
As she ate, she watched the crowd — adventurers boasting of dungeon dives, merchants haggling, a group of children chasing each other through the fountains. Life. Raw and unfiltered. The sort of thing she’d spent ages watching from the other side.
She stopped again at another stand a few streets later, this one selling sweet dumplings. The vendor, an elderly dwarf with kind eyes, gave her an extra one “on the house.” Hel smiled faintly and thanked him, feeling that rare flicker of warmth that came from simple kindness.
Still, the peace left her restless.
“Bureaucracy, family reunions, and mortal food tours,” she muttered to herself between bites. “Truly, I’ve retired in style.”
She reached the edge of the merchant quarter, gazing down the long avenue leading toward the Loki Familia mansion. The air grew quieter here — the chatter fading into the distant toll of the city bells.
Her thoughts drifted again — to Loki’s likely reaction when she saw the Guild bill, to Freya’s face when she mentioned Odin, and, most of all, to the dream of the girl in red. That flicker of silver light had felt too real, too close to be mere memory.
“Ruby Rose…” Hel murmured under her breath. The name felt right somehow. Fitting. “Perhaps I’ll see her again tonight.
The mansion’s familiar walls rose ahead — a fortress of stone and banners, laughter echoing faintly from the training yard beyond. Hel smiled faintly. So much energy… it’s exhausting just listening.
As she entered through the front gate, a familiar voice rang out across the courtyard.
“Hel! You’re back!”
Tiona waved from the middle of the training grounds, wooden blade in hand, sweat glistening on her skin. Beside her, Tione sighed, arms crossed, clearly unimpressed with her sister’s enthusiasm.
Hel raised a hand in greeting. “Training this early? I thought Loki preferred her children lazy before noon.”
Tiona grinned, bouncing on her heels. “We were just warming up for the expedition! Wanna join? You can’t just laze around if you’re gonna stay here, you know!”
Tione groaned. “Tiona, she’s a goddess, not an adventurer.”
Hel tilted her head slightly, a faint, mischievous smile forming. “You assume gods can’t fight?”
That made both twins pause.
“Wait—seriously?” Tiona asked, eyes gleaming with the kind of excitement usually reserved for a new floor boss. “You wanna spar with me?”
“If you’re willing,” Hel said softly, stepping into the ring. “I could use a distraction.”
A small crowd began to gather — Bete leaning against a wall, Riveria setting down her book with mild interest, and Lefiya peeking out from behind her.
Tiona twirled her blade, beaming. “Don’t blame me if you get knocked on your butt, goddess or not!”
Hel simply raised a hand. The air shifted around her — subtle, but enough for the hairs on the back of Bete’s neck to rise. The faint scent of frost and something ancient brushed through the yard.
Then, with a sound like a sigh escaping the grave, a massive scythe formed in her grasp — its haft forged of blackened metal that shimmered faintly with starlight, the curved blade long and cruel, edges glinting like moonlight on still water.
The temperature dropped several degrees in an instant.
Tiona blinked, momentarily frozen mid-step. “Okay… that’s new.”
Riveria’s eyes widened slightly, studying the weapon. “That… is no illusion.”
Hel tested the weight of the scythe in one hand, letting the blade hum through the air in a single, slow arc. Despite its enormous size, it moved effortlessly, the motion fluid, almost graceful.
“I am ready when you are!” Hel called out
Tiona’s grin returned in full force, wild and eager. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” she shouted, launching herself forward with a burst of speed that cracked the dirt beneath her boots.
Hel’s expression didn’t change. The moment Tiona entered her range, the scythe moved — not as a weapon, but as an extension of inevitability. Its sweeping arc forced Tiona to pivot mid-strike, ducking low as the blade whispered over her head, cold air tugging at her hair.
Tiona twisted, slashing upward, but Hel’s weapon slid to intercept. The clash rang out like a bell struck under water — deep, resonant, and wrong.
“Fast,” Hel murmured, eyes glinting with quiet approval. “You’ve trained well.”
Tiona landed a few meters away, already lunging again. “You talk too calmly for someone in a fight!” she barked, grinning.
“Death rarely rushes,” Hel replied.
The second exchange was faster. Tiona aimed low, then feinted high — a veteran’s trick — but the scythe turned and caught her blade with the hook of its curve. A gentle twist disarmed her, and the haft struck her shoulder with enough force to spin her halfway around before she hit the dirt with a soft whump.
Gasps rippled through the onlookers.
Tiona groaned, sitting up and rubbing her head. “Okay… okay, that’s definitely new.”
Hel leaned on her scythe, smiling faintly. “You asked for a spar. I didn’t say it would be fair.”
“How is your power roughly equivalent to a level 3?!” Tiona exclaimed, still half-laughing, half-wheezing as she pushed herself upright. “You’re barely putting in effort, and I still couldn’t touch you! That’s just unfair!”
Hel tilted her head, resting the scythe across her shoulders. “Because I’m not using strength,” she said simply. “Just inevitability.”
Bete’s ears twitched. “That’s supposed to mean something?”
Riveria frowned thoughtfully. “It does. She’s manipulating timing and force—every motion she makes lands exactly where it must. No wasted energy, no hesitation. It’s not brute power—it’s precision.”
Hel nodded slightly, pleased by Riveria’s assessment. “Exactly. Full power i could maybe hit at around a level 4 in power but when it comes to experience I well out class most if not all mortals.”
“Could Loki fight like that?”
“If loki unsealed her divinity absolutely but most of her combat skills are locked behind that seal.” Hel states
Tiona blinked, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. “Wait, Loki actually knows how to fight? Like—seriously fight?”
Hel gave a small, amused hum. “You think she survived the Aesir courts by talking her way out of everything? My parent was many things—deceptive, mischievous, infuriating—but defenseless was never one of them.”
Riveria arched a brow. “And yet… she acts so careless here.”
“That’s because she is,” Hel said simply, lowering her scythe. “Her seal suppresses everything tied to her divine nature—her magic, her strength, even her battle instincts. It’s the price of walking among mortals. If she ever broke that seal…” Hel’s gaze grew distant, her tone quiet but steady. “You’d see the Trickster of Asgard, not the flirty, lazy goddess you know.”
That is where loki shows up to ask whats going on.
“Trickster of Asgard, huh?” came a familiar, drawling voice from behind them.
Everyone froze.
Loki stood in the archway leading to the courtyard, arms crossed, expression caught somewhere between smug amusement and deep suspicion. Her red hair was a bit messy — probably from napping off a hangover — and her eyes flicked from Hel to the now-silent Tiona, then to the faint scorch marks and disturbed dirt of the training yard.
“…Should I even ask what the Hel happened here?” she said dryly, emphasizing her daughter’s name just enough to make Tiona snort.
Hel, ever calm, rested the scythe against her shoulder again. “A friendly spar,” she said simply.
“A friendly spar?” Loki’s gaze swept over Tiona, who was still dusting herself off and trying very hard not to look embarrassed. “Because it looks like somebody got reaped.”
Tiona laughed sheepishly. “Hey, it was fair! Kinda. Mostly. I think.”
Riveria sighed, closing her book with a quiet snap. “No one’s seriously hurt, at least. Though I’d prefer the next demonstration not involve freezing the air in the middle of the courtyard.”
Loki’s eyes narrowed, her sharp smile returning. “So my little death goddess decided to show off, huh? Making my top Amazon hit the dirt—bold move, kiddo.”
Hel gave her a small, innocent smile. “You always said a goddess should make an impression.”
That earned a genuine laugh from Loki, who sauntered closer and ruffled Hel’s hair affectionately. “Ha! You’ve got my tongue, that’s for sure. Still—try not to freak out the neighbors with the whole ‘inevitability’ thing, yeah? I just finished smoothing things over with the Guild.”
“Awe come on it was just a belayed child support payment Father.” Hel states with a smile
Bete smirked. “Guess that makes you the deadbeat dad of the decade.”
Loki groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Oh, I am never living this down.”
Hel, looking completely unbothered, leaned on her scythe and gave her parent an impish grin. “Don’t worry, Father. I forgive you. I know raising Fen and Jörmungandr was probably enough chaos for one cosmic lifetime.”
That earned her a pillow to the face — Loki having snatched one from who knows where and hurled it like a throwing knife.
“Brat!” Loki snapped, though she was laughing now. “You really are my kid!”