POV: Haruki
"Orange juice and ice cream, really?" Serafall said, amused, her tone light and teasing.
"They are delicious," I replied, shrugging as I took another slow spoonful.
We were seated together in a quiet restaurant in Hamburg, one of those luxurious places where silence felt curated. The kind of place where the waiters were invisible and the smallest dish cost more than a month's rent. No one else was here. Either she had rented the place out or they cleared it for her.
"No doubt about that," she said with a soft laugh. "It's just that from everything I've heard about you, I didn't think you'd have such ordinary taste. I admit, I expected something more refined. Maybe pretentious."
"Why, my lady," I said dryly, "did you imagine I'd order a millennia-old wine paired with a dish that could only be cooked by five chefs in the world?"
"Something like that," she said, still smiling. "I hope it wasn't too annoying of me to just appear at your home uninvited. I was told you value your solitude."
"Yes," I said. "I'm a big fan of privacy."
"I've heard," she said, stirring her drink idly. "Which makes me wonder why you even agreed to come here with me. I honestly thought you would simply refuse me."
"Why exactly have you heard about me?" I asked.
That she thought I could refuse a Satan was almost amusing. In truth, I had considered it, but curiosity had won out. I wanted to see what someone like Serafall Leviathan wanted from me. And how she thought. People in power usually hated being refused, but she seemed more intrigued than offended.
"All sorts of things," she said after a moment. "Some good, some bad. You seem to inspire both admiration and contempt in equal measure. Most people don't manage that balance."
"Well, people see what they want to see," I said.
"You speak truer than you think," she replied. "Everyone has their own perception. How I see myself is not how you see me, nor how anyone else does. In a sense, there's a version of me in every mind that's ever met me. Each one different. Don't you think that's sad?"
"I suppose," I said.
"It's lonely," she admitted quietly. "A lot of people know you, yet no one truly knows you."
"I imagine being a Satan comes with its own kind of isolation," I said.
"Oh, it does," she said, setting her glass down. "Once you reach a certain level of authority, people stop seeing the person. They see the title. The symbol. I'm fortunate to have three others who share the same burden. Without them, I think it would have been unbearable."
"Many would still kill to be you," I said.
"I tell you," she began, her voice low now, without the sparkle she usually forced into her words, "I would have much preferred to live in a small town in France, working as a librarian. I'd close the shop early, walk home in the rain, and spend the evening reading with my sister. No politics, no expectations. Just silence."
"That sounds almost human of you," I said.
She smiled faintly. "That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me this week."
We sat in silence for a while.
"Do you ever miss it?" she asked suddenly.
"Miss what?"
"Being human."
"Sometimes," I said hesitatingly. "There was a simplicity to it that was almost charming."
Serafall rested her chin on her hands, studying me. "Maybe that's why you like orange juice and ice cream."
"Perhaps," I said. "Some things should remain uncomplicated."
"Do you ever dream of a world where everything can be like that?" she asked. "A world where everything is not complicated and full of loneliness?"
"No," I answered. "It is pointless to dream of a world that never was or some world that will never be, just so you could be happy for a moment. Because it would mean you have already given up. I do not intend to give up."
"When you put it like that. I seem like an immature person who can't deal with real life," she said, laughing and scratching the back of her head. It took no genius to see that there was an element of self depreciation in her laughter.
"Not at all," I said. "Your sentiment of simple life is beautiful."
Her smile softened. "You know, I didn't come here tonight just to talk about politics or the Norse. I wanted to meet the man everyone keeps describing in extremes."
"And?"
"And you're less of a mystery than I expected," she said. "Just another lonely person who happens to be very good at pretending otherwise."
"I'm not lonely," I said.
"Of course not," she said with mock seriousness, her eyes gentle. "Neither am I."
For a while, we didn't speak. The world outside the windows was quiet, the city lights reflected in her untouched drink.
We ate in silence for a time. Serafall eventually began to talk about things that had no real connection to one another. There was no topic, no thread to follow, yet the conversation carried itself easily. She had that ability to make silence feel like a choice rather than a void. I could not recall what we spoke of, only that it was pleasant. Serafall Leviathan had a beautiful soul, a beautifully lonely one.
After a while, our guests arrived.
When Serafall first came to invite me to this meeting, she mentioned that one of the conditions was that I be present. I suspected then that she disliked the arrangement as much as I did, but obligations had a way of being disguised as politeness.
"Well, it seems you are already here," said a voice; youthful, commanding, and confident enough to fill the room. "Have we kept you for long?"
I turned to see two figures approaching. One was a tall young man with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a clean-shaven face that was far too symmetrical for a human. He was breathtakingly beautiful, but there was something obsessive about the way his eyes moved, as though he studied the world to break it apart. He wore a dark business suit. Beside him stood a young woman with long, straight silver hair and aqua-colored eyes, appearing to be in her late teens.
"Not at all, Lord Odin," Serafall said, standing and bowing with practiced grace. "It is a pleasure to see you again."
"The pleasure is all mine," he said, smiling faintly. "This must be the infamous Haruki. You've no doubt heard of me."
"I have," I said, still seated. "Though you look nothing like I had imagined."
That was putting it mildly. In every depiction of Odin I'd seen, both in this world and the last, he was always portrayed as an old man with a beard, a sage or a warrior, weathered by time and wisdom. Not this. This Odin looked like a rejected design from Fate: too polished, too perfect. A pretty anime boy with godhood attached.
"Oh?" Odin asked as he sat down, making no comment about my refusal to stand or bow. "And how did you picture me?"
"Less feminine," I answered.
Both Serafall and the silver-haired girl stiffened. Apparently, calling the Norse God-King girly was some kind of heresy.
"How dare you insult Lord Odin like that?" the girl snapped. "Who do you even think you are?"
"It is normally polite to introduce yourself before demanding another's identity," I said, my tone even.
She went red, words stumbling at the edge of her tongue. Odin, to his credit, laughed, a genuine sound that carried a trace of arrogance.
"Relax, Rosie," he said, waving a hand. "It's merely a jest. But I suppose introductions are in order. This is Rossweisse, my bodyguard in training. In case you're curious, she's a virgin and has never had a boyfriend."
He even winked.
"My lord, that's hardly appro–" Rossweisse began before blushing furiously.
"Enough of that," Odin said. "We are not here to talk about your non-existentient love life, Rossweisse. Don't be so vain."
She looked like she wanted to evaporate on the spot. I leaned back slightly, studying the so-called All-Father.
One of the reasons I'd agreed to attend this meeting was curiosity. I'd never met a god before. Meeting Odin as my first god was perhaps too much, but I wasn't complaining.
"As requested, Lord Odin," Serafall said, her voice composed. "I have brought Haruki Yamashiro to this meeting. Though, you never specified the reason."
"Must one need a reason to meet the supposed reincarnation of Lucifer?" Odin asked. "But now that I see him in truth, the connection to that brat was greatly exaggerated."
"I never claimed to be the prince of lies," I said. "Still, impressive that you could tell so quickly."
"I am a seeker of knowledge," Odin declared. "I hung from the World Tree for nine days and nights in pain to learn the runes. I sacrificed my eye for wisdom. Discernment is the least of what I gained."
He clearly enjoyed reminding others of his accomplishments.
"Rossweisse," he said, turning. "Why don't you show Lady Leviathan around this fine city? I would like a word with the boy."
"Lord Odin," Serafall said coolly. "We agreed all talks would be conducted with me present."
"Forgive an old man his whim," Odin said, smiling faintly. "I find myself curious about the boy. A private conversation will suffice."
"Your condition was that he only be present," Serafall said. "That is why he came. Surely you do not intend to make a liar of me, my lord?"
Her tone carried no overt threat, but there was weight behind her words. Even Odin's smile faltered for a moment.
"Of course not," he said. "But curiosity is a difficult thing for a god to suppress. You know how we are. Once we fixate on something, we cannot rest until we've satisfied it."
"Be that as it may," Serafall said, "I represent the devils. It is natural that I remain present when a devil speaks with a foreign pantheon."
"A representative of devils you are," Odin said, his single eye glinting. "But not his, are you? Tell me, Haruki Yamashiro, does she speak for you?"
"Certainly not," I said. "I speak for myself. But you didn't request a meeting with me directly, and frankly, I like her more than you. So I'll heed her judgment."
"Youngsters," Odin muttered. "So bold. But perhaps I have been discourteous. The truth is, I must speak with you on matters of great importance. Matters meant for your ears alone, Lord Haruki. As potential allies, I am sure you wouldn't mind, Lady Leviathan."
Serafall's expression tightened, though she hid it well. "Not at all," she said. "However, as he said, I do not speak for him. It is his choice."
"What say you, Haruki Yamashiro?" Odin asked.
I was curious. There was something in his tone, an attempt at solemnity that didn't fit his earlier theatrics.
"Sure," I said. "Why not?"
"Excellent," Odin replied.
Serafall and Rossweisse departed then. Serafall gave me a brief nod before leaving. Odin's single eye followed me the moment the door closed, the playful tone gone, replaced by something colder.
"What can I do for you, Odin?" I asked.
"To speak to a god like that," he said, amused. "The Norns warned that you would be prideful."
"Have they now?" I said casually.
"Oh yes, they have," he continued. "Do you know what else they told me?"
"How would I know that?" I replied, annoyed. "I'm not omniscient."
"So you are not," he chuckled. "How much do you know about the Æsir?"
"The basics," I said. "I know some of your myths. I've read the Prose Edda, but nothing beyond that."
"Yes," he said. "There is much you do not know, but that will be sufficient for our talks. The Norse gods are unique compared to other pantheons in that we are tied to prophecy."
"The Ragnarok, I assume?" I said. "A battle at the end of the world, where some of you are fated to die, including you."
"Correct," he said. "We are fated to die then. It is both a source of anxiety and a strange comfort to us Æsir. We will not die before Ragnarok, before our fated end. That makes us brave in battle, for we know we are untouchable until that day. Yet in the end, we still die. It is inevitable."
"While that is a fascinating myth," I said evenly, "I fail to see how it concerns me."
"Patience," he said. "We will reach that point. As I said, we are bound to die as decreed. But I have no intention of calmly accepting the decision of a dispassionate tribunal. If fate decrees that I die, then I will find a way to defy fate."
"How is that working out for you?" I asked, disinterested.
"All my life," he said, "I have pursued knowledge with obsession. I have sacrificed much to gain it, searching for something that could alter a fixed course. I have dabbled in sorcery, in rituals, in blood magic. I have created and mastered countless arcane arts. I have learned so many things that I might as well be omniscient. Yet I found nothing that could help me achieve my ultimate goal, to escape fate. Until…until you came."
Now that was interesting.
"And how am I supposed to help you achieve that?" I asked.
"Your soul," he said.
I frowned slightly.
"Your soul is unique," Odin continued. "It is not connected to this world in the same way others are. It has escaped the clutches of destiny entirely."
So that was his plan. Still, it was intriguing. If he was right, it meant I truly wasn't bound by the laws of this world. Perhaps that explained my ability to achieve paradoxes, like manipulating both holy and demonic energy.
"I see you've guessed my intention," he said. "I cannot break prophecy, because I am bound by fate as all things are in this world, save the Dreaming and the Infinite. You, however, present a new possibility. You can act without fate's restraint. You can break Ragnarok."
"And what do I gain from it?" I asked.
"Anything you desire," Odin said seriously. "Knowledge, power, wealth, women, weapons – whatever you ask for, I will provide."
My plan was progressing as expected. I still needed to work with Cain to perfect my spell, but the knowledge Odin possessed was difficult to ignore. He was the foremost authority on magic among the gods, an obsessive seeker of wisdom. His archives alone could accelerate my ultimate goal of restoring humanity's magical potential.
"I have some terms," I said. "I will need all your knowledge on arcane and rune magic to start with. I'll also require magical materials."
I listed everything I needed; rare tomes, ritual materials, occult texts, forbidden studies. He didn't even flinch.
"...I have other matters to resolve before I can begin working on breaking the prophecy," I said. "They may improve my chances of success."
"How long will that take?" he asked calmly. There was a faint gleam of mania in his eye.
"A year at most," I said confidently.
"Very well," he said. "In the meantime, you will have Asgard's full support."
That was easier than I expected. I thought he would argue, but he seemed almost relieved. Perhaps he had waited too long already.Noticing my expression, he smiled.
"I have waited for thousands of years," Odin said. His age showed for a moment in that too-young face. "I can be patient for one more. But I will need you to swear an oath."
"No," I said firmly. "No oaths. I've had bad experiences with them, and I refuse as a matter of principle. You will have to put your faith in my word, or there is no deal."
That was only half true. I dislike binding oaths, but I am not above using them when it suits me. Still, tying myself to a god, especially one like Odin, was out of the question. The so-called god of frenzy is as cunning as Loki, though older and sharper. Madness and wisdom blur in him until they are the same thing.
"So a gamble," he said. His gaze met mine, steady and cold. "You ask for my full aid and expect me to trust you without proof? Does your pride have no end?"
His tone was calm, but there was weight behind it.
"Yes," I said. "That is what faith is, isn't it? Believing without proof. You would understand that better than most."
He regarded me for a long moment, then sighed.
"Very well," he said. "I accept your terms. We are both civilized, so there will be no threats about what happens should you break your word."
We discussed the finer details afterward; the materials he would lend, the knowledge he would share, and the process of teaching me the runes. Time passed in quiet negotiation. Eventually, Serafall and Rossweisse returned. Serafall began discussing trade, diplomacy, and other political concerns that sounded like background noise to me. My role was complete.
The meeting dragged on for hours before the formalities were finished. Once Serafall and I prepared to leave, Odin addressed me.
"Oh, by the way, Haruki," he said. "Meet Rossweisse – your new teacher, maid, servant, concubine, wife, or whatever you wish her to be. She is skilled enough in the runes to instruct you until you reach a level where I can teach you myself."
"What?" Rossweisse said, aghast. "All-Father, what are you—"
"You heard me," Odin interrupted. "This is your mission. You are to become whatever Haruki requires you to be and fulfill all his requests without reservation. You are to answer any question he asks and perform any task he demands. For lack of a better term, he is your god now."
The ease with which he said it chilled me. It was as though her will meant nothing, as though she were a tool rather than a person.
"But All-Father—" she began.
"Do you question my judgment?" Odin roared.
"O-of course not, All-Father," Rossweisse stammered.
"Then do as I say," Odin said coldly. "The fate of Asgard rests upon your shoulders. Do not disappoint me."
"Your wish is my command," she said, bowing. There was a hollow devotion in her voice.
"Is she to your liking?" Odin asked, turning to me. "While she is inexperienced in matters of pleasure, she is among the most talented Valkyries in magic and runes."
Serafall looked lost, visibly shocked that he would so casually offer a Valkyrie to a devil.
"She'll do," I said. Refusing would make no difference; he would simply assign another. As long as she was competent in magic, I had no complaints.
"Wonderful," Odin said. Then he leaned close to Rossweisse, murmured something private, and dismissed us.
We left together: Rossweisse silent, Serafall visibly confused, and Odin smiling faintly as we departed.
AN: New chapter, yay. Turns out being from another world actually has its perks, and Haruki, being the opportunist he is, won't waste a single one. This arc is almost done now, just a couple more chapters to go.