From God of Lies to Lord of All Worlds

Chapter 151: Let's Go, I Will Take You Home

In Norse mythology, witches were actually a unique existence distinct from mythical creatures. Together with the berserkers, they formed two distinct forces within the human race across the entirety of Norse mythos—a power that even the gods acknowledged.

For instance, Odin once received guidance from a witch, and the most powerful witches could even ascend to godhood. These were all manifestations of this unique culture.

Naturally, this also stemmed from the exceptionally harsh climate of the time and the self-reliant movements of humanity. They depended too heavily on themselves, so they did not actually need much help from the gods.

This distinct culture gave rise to the highly unique concept of fatalism and the eventual occurrence of Ragnarok within the Norse, or Germanic, divine pantheon.

Bai Yang watched them, his gaze shifting to the city before him. After a period of proselytization, it had gradually developed the nascent beginnings of faith, prompting him to nod slightly.

As the city designated to house Lova, he naturally could not allow it to grow wild and unchecked.

The European Continent was incredibly chaotic. Refugees, gangs, and cults ran rampant, while the intertwined clashes between white leftist politicians and the far-right left every nation in a state of unrest.

Coupled with the instigation from both the East and West, as well as the covert operations of Europe's overly filial son, America, this place was practically a genuine testing ground.

The ordinary people who once lived peacefully in their own corners of the world had instead become casualties of this turmoil and the clash of interests.

Just like the women trapped in the concentration camp, they were all the price of certain people's ambitions."But it is precisely these people living in infinite despair who will nurture the most breathtakingly beautiful flowers of Wish Force!" Bai Yang declared. He could sense the shift in the survivors' perception of them following Percival's intervention and Freya's arrival.

"There are not many left in this country who believe in the Norse Gods..." Alvin sighed with emotion beside Bai Yang. "Many people are complete nonbelievers. Only something like this could completely overturn their understanding!"

The mythology of the Vikings had long since declined. During the Roman Era, it was utterly routed by Greek and Roman myths, and in the Middle Ages, the Church almost entirely unified the mythological system of the European Continent.

Aside from a few regions in Northern Europe, many people had no idea that their race even possessed its own indigenous mythology.

"Then let our changes be a bit more ruthless!" To ensure the continuation of the legacy and to cultivate more of the faithful in this land, Bai Yang made his decision.

A peculiar flame ignited in his hand. It did not look like real fire, but rather like the ambitions of certain individuals slowly burning within it...

...

Following Freya's words, this group of gang leaders who should have perished barely managed to survive.

However, this survival brought with it a far more agonizing torment!

They were stripped of all their five senses. Their vision turned black, their ears fell silent, and their noses could no longer feel the flow of air. Even if they stretched their tongues out to the absolute limit, they could not register the slightest sensation. Even their bodies lost all feeling, causing these men to quickly collapse onto the ground.

With their five senses sealed away, they could not even feel pain. They had no idea what they were doing, nor did they know if they were walking or moving.

They did not even know if they were dead or alive. It would only take a few moments for the endless darkness and absolute isolation to drive them completely insane.

"Why are you here?" Percival asked curiously, looking at his radiant wife.

"Let's leave this place first!" Freya glanced at her husband and took the initiative to say, "If I hadn't come, you would have been blown sky-high along with them!"

Percival laughed and replied, "Wouldn't that be fine? I would wait for your return in the Hall of Heroes, Valhalla! By then, I would be a heroic spirit!"

They were both believers in the gods and had witnessed divine miracles with their own eyes, so they naturally believed in the existence of Valhalla.

Freya looked at her husband in surprise. It turned out he was not oblivious to everything; rather, he understood perfectly...

He knew the gap in status between them, which was why he fought so desperately. After all, if he died and became a heroic spirit in Valhalla, they could still reunite in the realm of the gods.

At that time, there would be no disparity between them; they would be equals!

Freya suddenly realized the truth. This man still loved her just as deeply as he had long ago. Back when her mind had been unstable, he had still married her, braved the vicious gossip to be by her side, and brought her to the big city.

It was not just her constantly seeking opportunities to improve her husband's future circumstances; it was two people who loved each other deeply, moving toward one another in equal measure!

A bright smile suddenly bloomed on Freya's face as a tear slipped from the corner of her eye. "If you had such thoughts, you should have told me..."

Percival simply strode forward with matchless resolve. He was a descendant of the Vikings, already possessing great strength and ability. He was not the sort of man to sit back and wait for his wife to take care of him!

His formidable strength and undying courage gave him the confidence to rely on his own efforts to reach Valhalla! When that day came, he would be a heroic spirit. He could truly stand as the husband of a witch, rather than merely a subordinate of the current religious sect!

Percival soon arrived in front of the concentration camp. Looking at the cowering people and observing the men and women among them, he let out a soft sigh.

"The danger has passed. You are now free!"

As he spoke, he raised his battle axe and chopped apart the heavy locks on the metal gates one by one.

The men and women inside stumbled out in a continuous, faltering stream, quietly gathering to stand before him.

This concentration camp was not entirely enclosed; it connected directly to the surrounding plaza. Therefore, many people had clearly witnessed the recent spectacle—this Viking warrior, armed only with an axe, charging headlong into the squad of armed soldiers.

They knew the strength of the man standing before them. Everyone remained perfectly docile, terrified that he might still possess those ancient piratical habits and cleave them with his axe just for looking at him wrong.

The legendary Viking raiders were known for exactly that sort of temperament. Having grown up listening to such tales, no one dared to gamble on their chances.

However, these people were actually a minority in the camp. A much larger group remained inside the rooms, utterly silent, their eyes dull and vacant.

Most of them were women—women who had endured unimaginable torture. The majority of them were disheveled, their once-beautiful faces now pale and sallow.

One did not even have to guess to know what kind of inhuman treatment they had suffered in this alien camp filled with violent thugs!

This brutal torment must have lasted for a very long time—so long that they had become completely numb, oblivious to everything happening in the outside world.

Even so, their total apathy toward their newfound freedom caught the man somewhat off guard.

Percival pulled a survivor aside and asked, "What is wrong with them? Have they lost their senses?"

"No!" the survivor hurriedly replied. "These women were injected with drugs to keep them quiet and make them obedient when they were forced to take clients!"

The speaker was a short man. Due to his height, he had been stuck in the camp for a long time without being sold, making him a long-term resident of the area.

Hearing this, Percival clenched his fists tightly. "Injecting them with drugs just to force them into prostitution? These absolute scumbags!"

He thought he had been judging these thugs by the lowest possible standards, only to realize that his idea of a moral abyss did not even reach their moral ceiling!

Behind him, Freya walked in. She clearly knew much more. "In truth, they have done far worse things. Human trafficking, organ harvesting, forced prostitution, drug trafficking, wanton vendettas..."

"This entire street is practically turning into a mosque, and the loudspeakers around here are still blasting 'Allahu Akbar.' Given how these people view women, why would they ever treat them as human beings?"

"Is there really no other way?" Percival asked, his voice strained. "These people are our compatriots, the children of Odin!"

Freya extended her hand, revealing the peculiar blue crystal that had appeared in her palm at some unknown point. "Of course there is. Go on, my love. I will awaken their consciousness, and you must become their savior!"

Percival shook his head. "I have no intention of being anyone's savior. I just want them to return safely to their homes!"

"To us, home is the most important thing in the world, and family is what we should cherish above all else. They have been missing for so long. How utterly desperate must their families be?"

For the Viking raiders, "family" was a legacy passed down through the ages, a core belief that every single one of them fiercely upheld.

Beautiful spots of blue light bloomed from Freya's hand, washing over every person who resembled a walking corpse, ultimately purging certain harmful elements from their bodies.

These people, who had endured immense suffering and despair, groggily took in the sight before them. They stared at a bare-chested man wielding an axe, whose booming voice shattered their daze!

"Children of Odin! Descendants of the Vikings! Do not be lost, do not hesitate! Follow me! I will take you... home!"

Looking at the Viking warrior emerging in the radiant light, the ancient stories seemingly engraved in their very bloodlines finally began to blossom, little by little...