"Hela is right," Odin's voice echoed through the vast, empty hall.
"Now is the time to strike while the iron is hot. News of Jotunheim's submission will soon spread across the Nine Realms; we cannot give Surtur time to react."
The God-King walked back to his throne and struck the ground with the Eternal Spear: "Order the entire army: rest for seven days, replenish supplies, and repair the warships. In seven days, the Asgardian fleet sets out for Muspelheim!"
A fierce smile bloomed on Hela's face, the excitement of a Hunter finally granted permission to pursue the ultimate prey.
Mavuika looked out the window toward that dark red star.
She could feel the agitation of the flame origin within her body, an instinctive reaction to encountering fire authority of the same level.
Surtur, King of the Fire Giants, wielder of the Eternal Flame, ruling over the realm of eternal Burning.
This would be a collision of flame against flame.
In her arms, the sun-blaze thousand suns trembled slightly, the runes on its blade flowing with an expectant light.
Odin's voice pulled her thoughts back: "For this conquest, Mavuika and Hela will once again lead the main assault! Surtur's Eternal Flame is powerful and not to be underestimated."
Hela nodded, her fighting spirit undiminished: "We will be careful, Father."
After the meeting ended, Mavuika walked alone toward the Star-Gazing Platform.
On the way, she passed the nursery.
The door was ajar, and she pushed it open to enter.
Frigga was sitting in a rocking chair, one hand gently patting Loki in her arms, the other stroking Thor in the cradle.
Both infants were asleep, Loki's pale blue little hand still clutching Thor's finger.
"Mother," Mavuika called softly.
Frigga looked up and smiled: "Come to see your brothers?"
Mavuika walked to the side of the cradle, looking at Thor's peaceful sleeping face, then at Loki in her mother's arms.
This little Frost Giant infant slept exceptionally sweetly in the warmth of Asgard, the ice crystals on his forehead shimmering with a soft light under the magic lamps.
"Do you really not mind?" Mavuika asked. "Adopting the child of an enemy."
Frigga gently stroked Loki's forehead: "Bloodline is merely a vessel, Mavuika. What truly matters is what is contained within—whether it is hatred or love."
She looked up at her eldest daughter: "Your father is doing something very difficult and very great. He is trying to break the cycle of hatred. This takes time, patience, and perhaps... a miracle."
Mavuika was silent for a moment, then said: "We are setting out for Muspelheim in seven days."
Frigga's smile dimmed for a second, but quickly recovered: "I know."
She reached out and took Mavuika's hand: "Be careful, my daughter. Surtur is different from Laufey; he is a true Destroyer, and the Eternal Flame is very dangerous."
"I will," Mavuika nodded.
Frigga said softly: "Also, look after Hela. She is too eager for victory, too desperate to prove herself. This might cause her to overlook danger. You are the elder sister; you must watch over her."
"I will," Mavuika promised.
She took one last look at her sleeping brothers and turned to leave the nursery.
In the corridor, she ran into Hela.
Her sister was leaning against the window, gazing at that dark red star in the night sky, her profile sharp as a sculpture in the starlight.
"Sister," Hela didn't turn around. "Do you think Surtur can satisfy me?"
Mavuika walked to her side, also looking toward that Burning star: "I don't know, but I hope he cannot."
"Hmph..." Hela laughed, a smile like an unsheathed sword. "Then it would be quite boring."
The two sisters stood side by side, silently gazing at the starry sky.
Outside the Golden Palace, Asgard was preparing for the final conquest.
Artisans repaired the damage to warships, blacksmiths forged new weapons, warriors honed their skills, and mages prepared shields to counter the flames.
Seven days later, the light of the Bifrost Bridge tore a brilliant and abrupt wound across the sky of Muspelheim.
As the Golden Fleet of Asgard sailed out from the light, what met them was not the bone-chilling cold of Jotunheim, but a scorching heatwave strong enough to melt steel.
In this realm dominated by fire, not an inch of land was intact. As far as the eye could see, there was only churning, glowing lava. Dark red rivers of magma wound across the earth like the veins of a giant dragon, emitting billowing black smoke.
The air was thick with the heavy scent of sulfur and Burning, so pungent it made one cough involuntarily. Every breath felt like swallowing sparks, searing the throat and lungs.
The temperature was beyond imagination. The metal armor on the Asgardian warriors became too hot to touch moments after landing. Leather gear was baked stiff. Sweat had barely seeped from their foreheads before it instantly vaporized into white mist, leaving a layer of white salt stains on their cheeks.
Many warriors' lips were already cracked and bleeding, their skin red and stinging from the heat, and even breathing became rapid and difficult.
This was simply not an environment suited for life.
Mavuika stood at the bow of the flagship, the sun-blaze thousand suns floating by her side. The blade autonomously emitted a soft golden-red halo, dispelling the high temperatures within a three-meter radius.
She took a deep breath. When that scorching air, filled with the smell of sulfur and Burning, entered her lungs, she felt no discomfort; instead, it made the flame origin within her leap with joy.
This was her natural home field of power.
But the others were not so lucky.
"Cough, cough—!" Hela let out a suppressed cough behind her.
The Goddess of Death held the railing with one hand while waving the other irritably in front of her face, trying to disperse the pungent odors.
A fine layer of salt frost had already condensed on the surface of her dark green armor—the marks left by sweat vaporizing the moment it emerged.
"This hellhole..." Hela gritted her teeth, her dark green eyes full of impatience. "It's even more nauseating than the foul-smelling swamps of Niflheim."
The situation for the entire fleet was not optimistic.
Although every warship had activated cooling shields, the ambient temperature of Muspelheim was simply too high. The shields could only barely maintain the internal cabin temperature at around sixty degrees Celsius.
Even for Asgardians, this temperature was quite uncomfortable.
Medical officers were urgently distributing heat-resistant potions and water supplies, but everyone knew that in this Burning realm, supplies were limited.
"Attention, everyone!" Odin's voice spread through the entire army via magical communication.
"Keep shields at full power, conserve water, and non-combat personnel should minimize activity. Remember, we are not here to adapt to the environment; we are here to conquer it!"
The God-King's voice was steady and powerful, temporarily suppressing the soldiers' unease.
Just then, an alarm sounded.
It wasn't a shipboard magical alarm, but the shrill cry of the environmental monitoring array, detecting large-scale life reactions closing in from all directions.
"Enemy attack! All units on alert!"
The moment the order was given, Muspelheim showed its wild side to the invaders.