A bitter frustration simmered within Lin Xiang. The new gods saw media's rapid evolution as natural—what was death to one deity was merely rebirth to another. The first generation of Media Goddess had already perished with the fall of print, yet returned anew. Perhaps they believed reincarnation freed them from karmic consequence, allowing them to manipulate believers without fear.
Her gaze narrowed in thought. The Media Goddess wielded a power that naturally suppressed story-born deities. But old gods were different. Even if records were rewritten, even if names were erased—their presence endured in the souls of those who still remembered.
A slow smile curved her lips. The New Gods are not as united as they seem.
Tensions between old and new escalated, yet both sides' leaders hesitated to escalate fully. That the Media Goddess had acted in secret suggested ulterior motives—one likely unknown to World Father himself.
"If I were Odin," she murmured, "I would reveal everything to the gods whose followers were taken. Let anger rise. Let pressure mount. Eventually, World Father would be forced to rein her in… and then…"
Odin would understand the Media Goddess's value—her control over information alone made her indispensable. And yet, if he truly wished to act, this was his chance.
Lin Xiang found herself intrigued by the goddess's domain. If Odin moved against her, perhaps she could seize a piece for herself.
As these thoughts swirled, a familiar divine presence swept across the sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Dark clouds gathered, charged with unseen power.
Odin had arrived.
Before the golden archway of Chinatown, Mazu stood firm with the Eastern pantheon, facing the Allfather.
"Odin," she warned, voice sharp as wind-driven rain. "I have no wish to involve myself in your war. Step forward, and it will be seen as an act of aggression."
It was the first time Lin Xiang had seen Mazu so severe. Shadows played across her face, concealing her expression beneath a veil of storm-lit gloom.
Odin adjusted his coat with a smirk, his single eye gleaming behind a milky film. "Sea Mother, is this how you greet guests? Does your tradition not speak of hospitality?"
Mazu did not waver. Her hair danced like seafoam, and a faint halo flickered behind her head.
Realizing she meant business, Odin finally raised his hands in mock surrender. "I come not to recruit, but to thank your sister."
At the sight of Odin, Lin Xiang instinctively braced herself. This silver-haired elder, with his suave demeanor and calculating gaze, was no mere relic of myth. In his remaining eye burned cold logic—a mind that never stopped scheming.
A ruthless tactician. She disliked his methods, yet respected his cunning. Better a manipulator than a fool who compromised all for sentiment.
Then her eyes shifted—to the towering man behind him.
She recognized him at once—the man she had glimpsed through fate's threads during his prison release. His hidden divinity had long intrigued her.
"I must decline your gratitude," she said smoothly. "After all, we do not practice human sacrifice. Though…" Her gaze lingered on the man. "I shall accept this one instead."
Odin's expression twitched. "Of course, of course. I would never offer such a gift. He is my shadow, my bodyguard."
Lin Xiang's smile turned saccharine. "How thoughtful of you to bring something I'd appreciate."
Odin's grin faltered. With no actual gift to offer, he quickly changed the subject. "Lorelei speaks highly of you. Your civilization thrives indeed."
Lin Xiang's smile remained flawless. "And yet, a first meeting usually calls for a gift. But since you've brought me what I desire, how selfish would I be to ask for more?"
Beside her, Mazu stiffened slightly at Lin Xiang's veiled mockery, surprised by her sudden shift in tone.
With the smallest glance, Lin Xiang signaled for silence. Mazu stepped aside, leaving the two deities to their dance of words.
Lin Xiang circled Odin twice, feigning innocence. "You didn't bring it with you? Could it be… an extraordinary surprise?"
Odin caught the unspoken jest behind her naivety but found no way to counter it.
Sighing, he relented. "Please, stop teasing me. My gratitude is sincere."
"Well then." Lin Xiang dropped the pretense. "I'll remember you owe me a gift."
Odin nodded. "You earned it. Lorelei told me you helped locate Giselle."
Success! Lin Xiang allowed herself a genuine smile. "Then I shall thank you sincerely."
The tension eased. She twirled a jade pendant between her fingers. "Since you've honored me with a gift, we are now friends."
Her expression brightened with false innocence. "Let us skip the meaningless games. Tell me why you're really here."
Odin felt the tremor of Fate itself. Hands clenched briefly, then relaxed. "An assembly of the Old Gods is to be held at Valhalla—the House Upon the Rock. I invite you both."
"I accept," she replied cheerfully.
The dark clouds parted as Odin departed. Only when his form vanished did Mazu lightly tap Lin Xiang's forehead.
"He'll realize soon enough what you've done."
Lin Xiang tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "A god who foresaw Ragnarok cannot ignore the weight of Fate. But that is exactly what I want."
She let out a soft laugh. "He sees only what I allow him to see. Do you think he suspects there's more?"
In that silent exchange, an understanding had formed. Two minds, equally sharp, had divided the battlefield before the battle even began.
Now, all that remained was for the pieces to fall into place.
Odin and his shadow departed Chinatown in a sleek black Cadillac. The latter exhaled, finally relaxing.
"That went better than expected," he murmured. "I thought she'd demand something like what Cenoburg did—my life as collateral."
Odin leaned back, exhaling a slow ring of smoke. His demeanor was that of an old rogue, unbothered by the weight of divine politics.
"I'd rather deal with Mazu."
He flicked ash into the dim light. "After all, she is the true leader of the Eastern pantheon. Her word carries authority. This new goddess… she only pretends to support me. And yet, I must repay her generosity tenfold."
He studied his companion's face in the reflection of the window.
"She knows more than she lets on. That stunt with the gift wasn't just flattery—it was a test. She suspects your nature."
Back at the temple, Lin Xiang pondered the mystery of Odin's shadow.
Her earlier probing had confirmed one thing—he was no ordinary being.
In her vision, she had assumed he was the child of a native god and mortal, explaining why the land favored him. But now, standing before him, she sensed not only earth-bound divinity but also a radiant essence of light—an unusual duality.
It made little sense. If both parents were deities, their offspring should be divine themselves. Yet this man bore no sign of even semi-divine power. No inherent gift. No spark of godhood.
And yet, the strength within him was undeniable.
She sipped fresh tea, letting the warmth soothe her thoughts.
Whatever his secret was, it mattered to Odin. And secrets could be leveraged.
Not long after, rumors spread among the gods—that the Media Goddess had orchestrated Yurona's abductions. That Giselle had been taken to provoke war between the Old and New.
The ancient gods seethed. Many who once hesitated now rallied behind Odin.
As expected, World Father publicly punished the Media Goddess, forcing her into obscurity.
But Lin Xiang knew better. She doubted the goddess would accept defeat so easily.
Odin's grand entrance—dramatic, thunderous—had been a warning cloaked in gratitude. He had subtly shifted part of the Media Goddess' wrath onto her.
Lin Xiang had seen through it. And played along.
When Odin summoned the storm to announce his arrival, she had already prepared her counteroffer. Their negotiations had been silent, layered in implication. Yet understanding formed between them—a mutual exchange of advantage.
Odin sought to redirect blame.
Lin Xiang sought leverage.
And thus, they danced.
Now, with time before the House Upon the Rock assembly, she donned Viviane's guise once more and returned to Balor's tavern.
Balor, ever the opportunist, had aligned himself with the New Gods—but not fully. His loyalties wavered like mist, shifting with the tides of power.
The bar remained lively, its patrons unchanged. Cloaked in flowing robes, Viviane entered without hindrance. No troll dared challenge her presence.
Balor was absent. That suited Lin Xiang fine.
Among the grotesque collection of gods, one stood apart—the scarecrow figure gripping a rusted scythe.
Last time, during the clash with Baron Samedi, it had vanished before Balor's arrival. A telling detail.
She approached without hesitation.
This straw-wrapped deity had ties to Freyr, the Norse god of fertility. In times past, worshippers shaped effigies from orchard branches and harvested stalks, offering prayers to these figures in place of idols.
Freyr had once walked the world.
But where was he now?
The scarecrow's hollow eyes met hers, sensing her scrutiny. It tensed, preparing to flee—but an unseen barrier blocked its path.
Lin Xiang sat across from it, weaving a veil of fog around them.
"I have questions," she said coolly.
The scythe trembled in its grasp.
"Has Freyr come to America?"
Freyr was the only god Lin Xiang could think of who shared dominion over both earth and light. If anyone might explain the shadow's paradox, it was him.
"He is dead."
The voice came from deep within the straw body—hollow, distant.
"Killed in Odin's golden hall."
Lin Xiang's brows lifted. "How long ago?"
"Forty years."
A silence stretched between them.
That timeline didn't fit. Earlier, when she traced the karmic threads of the shadow's lineage, she had encountered resistance—a fire-breathing bull blocking her sight.
She dismissed the scarecrow with a wave. The fog dissipated, and it vanished swiftly, eager to escape.
By then, the rest of the bar had emptied. Only Balor remained, appearing from the shadows as if summoned.
"Viviane," he mused, taking the scarecrow's seat. "Perhaps you need an ally."
Lin Xiang ignored him at first, rising to leave.
"Our age has passed," Balor called after her. "Our names forgotten. Do you truly wish to remain powerless?"
Only then did she turn, curiosity flickering in her gaze. "Have you pledged yourself to the New Gods?"
"A partnership," Balor corrected smoothly. "World Father promises us new forms—new identities—if we remain neutral. Refuse Odin's summons, and you too may reclaim your lost glory."
Lin Xiang smirked inwardly. She knew of Balor's history well.
Once a king among the Formorians, he ruled with an eye capable of killing with a single glance. Prophecy foretold his death at the hands of his own grandson. Desperate, he imprisoned his son—but fate could not be denied.
With the aid of druids, Lugh mac Ethlenn infiltrated the tower. With Enya, Balor's daughter, he fathered three sons.
Enraged, Balor cast them into the sea.
But one survived.
Rescued by the god of craftsmanship, the boy grew to become Lugh—Luminary King of the Tuatha Dé Danann.
Yet behind that familiar tale lurked a hidden hand.
The druids who appeared at key moments.
The enchanted stone used by Lugh against Balor.
Tathlum—the mythic projectile imbued with rune-forged power.
All bore traces of Odin's influence.
Even now, Balor nursed his grudge.
Lin Xiang saw the bitterness in his gaze.
"You want revenge," she said simply.
Balor smiled—a cruel, knowing twist of his lips. "I want survival."
"And what do you offer?" she asked.
Balor leaned forward. "Information. Access. And most importantly—opportunity."
For the first time, Lin Xiang allowed herself a genuine smile.
The game was changing.
And she was ready to play.