Lin Xiang understood now—the Jesuses were true saints, bound by scripture's will. They cared nothing for the war between Old and New Gods. Even if catastrophe struck, they would offer only comfort to their followers. After all, the Bible taught that suffering was merely a trial before ascension.
The destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah had been carried out by angels themselves—entire cities wiped out without mercy. By such standards, even ten thousand faithful would be lucky to see one soul spared.
"They won't let Oestara vanish," she mused aloud. "That's why you can play both sides."
Oestara gave a wry smile, accepting Lin Xiang's reasoning. "Karma has its own way of balancing things."
She took Lin Xiang's arm, guiding her through the gathering with warm enthusiasm, introducing her to arriving deities with practiced grace.
The festivities, however, were interrupted by an unwelcome presence.
Odin arrived uninvited, his shadow trailing behind him like a silent specter.
Oestara's expression tightened, but she said nothing. Instead, she turned her attention fully to the shadow, greeting him with unexpected warmth.
Lin Xiang watched closely, suspicion deepening. There was something about this man—something neither Odin nor Oestara wished her to know.
As they strolled along the lake's edge, Odin finally spoke.
"Clever goddess," he murmured. "You are far older than I first believed."
Only weeks ago, they had faced each other in veiled hostility. Now, seeing her restored power, he seemed genuinely surprised.
Her eyes remained fixed on the shadow ahead. "If you wish to know my origins, then tell me what you know of him."
Odin fell silent.
At that moment, several figures approached—serene and radiant in white robes.
Odin seized the opportunity. He raised his voice, addressing them directly.
"You shameless thieves!" he declared. "You stole Oestara's festival!"
His words sent ripples through the crowd. "Once, mortals celebrated renewal in her name, exchanging gifts in devotion. But now, your false resurrection claims dominance over her sacred day!"
He gestured toward the gathered spirits, fury sharpening his tone. "You have stolen her traditions. You parade them before their true owner, as if mocking her very existence!"
Chaos erupted.
Oestara quickly intervened, ushering Odin and the shadow into a secluded room.
"I don't recall sending you an invitation," she said coolly.
Odin met her gaze. "Yet is it not the truth? We lost our altars to the cross-bearing gods. Our names were buried beneath foreign prayers."
Oestara looked away, unable to deny it.
Then Odin dropped his next blow.
"Vulcanus has fallen. Slain by the New Gods."
His words chilled the air. Oestara paled, clutching her chest.
But Lin Xiang saw through it. She had heard from Biche that Odin himself had orchestrated Vulcanus' death. He was manipulating Oestara—fearmongering to push his agenda.
Before she could act, Odin dismissed both her and the shadow under the guise of private discussion.
Left outside, the shadow hesitated. With no one else familiar nearby, he followed Lin Xiang back toward the hall.
He tried to make conversation, though his unfamiliarity with Eastern culture left little common ground.
Lin Xiang handed him a glass of wine. "Relax. This is Oestara's celebration. You are her guest, just like us."
He cleared his throat, lowering his voice. "Eastern goddess… why do you trust Wednesday?"
Lin Xiang studied him carefully. So—he still did not realize his own divine heritage.
"Would you doubt him after witnessing Cenoburg and the Night Nymphs?" she asked gently. "Even if belief once blinded you, reality cannot be denied forever."
The shadow opened his mouth, closed it again.
A mortal once untouched by divinity, now caught in a world beyond comprehension.
"You will believe soon enough," she assured him. "After all, your blood carries more than mere humanity."
Just then, Oestara emerged in a rush, pulling the shadow back inside.
"A new arrival," Lin Xiang warned, catching the scent of decay before she even turned.
Indeed, death approached.
Oestara sighed and moved swiftly to intercept the newcomers before they entered the hall.
Two figures stepped inside—a gaunt woman and Sweeney.
It was unexpected. That Lugh of Celtic myth would visit Eostre of Germanic legend?
Oestara led them into another empty chamber.
"I hope you're not here to deliver another speech," she muttered.
Sweeney looked confused, but the pale woman beside him spoke.
"She says you can help me."
Lin Xiang and Oestara exchanged glances, both noting the eerie stench clinging to the woman.
"You are already dead," Lin Xiang observed, studying the faint golden glow around the woman's chest. "Some force lingers within you—keeping your spirit tethered to flesh."
Oestara leaned closer, peering into the woman's dulled eyes. "What is your name?"
"Laura."
Through the haze of death, Oestara glimpsed the final image burned into Laura's vision—the face of her killer.
"I cannot help you," Oestara admitted at last. "Your end came by divine hand. Not even I can undo that."
Laura's shoulders sagged.
Lin Xiang, however, studied the scene with growing unease.
This was no ordinary death.
Something deeper was at work.
And the game was shifting once more.
Laura buried her face in her hands, disappointment heavy upon her shoulders. She missed the flicker of suspicion that passed through Oestara's gaze as she studied Sweeney.
Then Lin Xiang spoke, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Tell me—how did Vulcanus die?"
Sweeney hesitated, unaware of Odin's deception. "Odin severed his head and offered it to himself as a sacrifice."
Oestara stiffened.
At that moment, a rabbit messenger leapt onto the table, chirping urgently into her ear. Seizing the distraction, the goddess masked her reaction with practiced ease.
Yet the news unsettled her further.
"The Media Goddess is here," the bunny whispered. "She hasn't forgotten what happened with Yurona."
Oestara turned sharply to Sweeney and Lin Xiang. "Stay hidden. Do not let her see you."
Of course, the true target was Odin—the master manipulator had drawn the hunter straight to this gathering, forcing Oestara into his camp whether she wished it or not.
Lin Xiang now appeared as Mazu's kin, an Eastern Sea Goddess—entirely different from the Viviane persona she had worn before. Sweeney, still struggling with divine reality, found himself at a loss for words. Without Oestara as mediator, silence settled heavily between them.
Laura remained lost in sorrow, forgetting why she had come. Sweeney, too, was caught in thought, recalling the knowing look Oestara had given him moments ago.
Lin Xiang leaned against the window, sipping wine in quiet contemplation.
Outside, the Media Goddess arrived uninvited, her wide-brimmed hat casting half her face into shadow. Though her words to Oestara were unheard, the goddess's grim expression betrayed their tone.
Suddenly, Laura surged to her feet, seizing Sweeney by the collar.
"Tell me—who did this to me?" she demanded.
Pain flickered across Sweeney's face. He no longer resisted the truth.
"It was Odin. He ordered me to do it."
His voice trembled. "The car accident—it was his command."
To make the Shadow accept his invitation, Odin had severed every tether binding him to this world. To make him despair, he orchestrated the deaths of those closest to him. His wife Laura and his best friend—both perished in a scandalous crash, framed as an affair gone wrong. For a man freshly freed from prison, it was unbearable grief.
A man with nothing left was easy to control.
The Media Goddess reached the threshold. Oestara greeted her with forced warmth, leading her toward the garden.
"We reshaped Easter," the Media Goddess declared smugly. "Blending old tradition with modern trends—that is how you gained your place today."
"You should never forget who gave you this new life, Eostre ."
The name dripped with condescension. Oestara's smile tightened.
From the shadows, gaunt figures flanked the goddess—tall, elongated beings draped in identical black suits. Their movements were eerily synchronized, their limbs twitching unnaturally.
The Media Goddess removed her veil.
"You know our rules," she said coldly. "If we find you aiding the Old Gods without reporting it first… you will learn the price."
Oestara forced a brittle smile. "I have made my stance clear—I will not take sides."
The goddess' lips curled. "Is that so? Then tell me—why did you help Lorelei capture Yurona?"
Oestara cursed inwardly. This was no coincidence. The Media Goddess had come seeking retribution.
The tall shadows closed in.
Just then, Odin descended the steps, the Shadow beside him.
"Media, Media," he called out smoothly. "Must you always chase headlines instead of peace?"
At his arrival, the elongated figures released Oestara, forming a barrier between him and the goddess.
"She invited herself," the Media Goddess spat. "Not I."
Oestara met his gaze, voice steady. "I have never favored either side."
Before the goddess could retort, another presence arrived.
The Tech God approached in his casual, rebellious attire, whispering something into the goddess's ear. Her fear vanished instantly.
"Outdated gods," the Tech God sneered. "You've already faded into history."
Odin merely smiled.
Then he raised his arms, addressing the gathered deities with fervor. "We have never left! We remain with our believers! Through birth and death, they carry our names forward. Mortals may perish—but guided by us, they too may touch eternity!"
Dark clouds gathered overhead. A thunderclap split the sky—and lightning struck thrice.
Three New Gods stood untouched.
But where the long-shadowed figures once danced, only scorched earth remained.
Odin bowed slightly toward Oestara. "These deaths are yours."
She curtsied in return, accepting the offering without hesitation.
The Shadow, shaken, finally asked the question burning within him.
"Who are you, truly?"
Lightning lit the heavens.
In that blinding instant, Odin's form shifted—his aged disguise peeling away.
Before the Shadow's eyes emerged a god both terrifying and magnificent.
Thunder roared, but none drowned out Odin's voice.
"Listen well, mortal—these are my names:
I am War-God, Grimnir, Slayer, and Third among the Aesir.
I am One-Eyed, All-Father, Truth-Seeker.
I am Grimnir, Cloak-Bearer, All-Wise.
I am Father of All, Staff-Lord, Fate's Weaver.
My names are countless, as winds across the sky, as ways to fall in battle.
Upon my shoulders ride Huginn and Muninn—the Ravens of Thought and Memory.
At my side run Geri and Freki, my Wolves of Hunger and Greed.
And I ride Sleipnir, the steed of gallows.
I am Odin!"
The storm raged above, echoing his declaration.
The Shadow stared, awestruck.
For the first time, he saw not just a man.
But a god reborn in fire and blood.