Athena's General Reincarnated in Another World

Nathan Evenhart:

"Hello, Nathan Evenhart. We need to talk."

Siegfried was lounging in the armchair like he owned the place. Instinctively, I summoned my sword from my storage bracelet. The blade appeared with a metallic flash as my eyes flicked between him… and Cylla.

The door behind me shut with a soft, final click.

"Relax. I haven't touched her, and I don't intend to," he said, voice calm—almost bored. "I could destroy everyone in this city. But I would never harm Sisika."

He motioned to an empty chair. Without a sound, it slid toward me, as if pulled by invisible strings.

"Sit, bearer of Jormungandr. We have much to discuss."

I stood in silence, grip tightening on my sword, measuring his tone, every gesture.

Siegfried sighed. "Suspicious, are we? Don't trust me?"

"No."

He grinned. "Excellent."

Before I could blink, he vanished from the chair—and reappeared beside me.

My muscles tensed, alarm shooting through my mind like lightning. Behind him, the room's door creaked open on its own. But it didn't lead to the hallway. What lay beyond wasn't this world. It was somewhere else. Distant. Warped. Pulsing with a mana that didn't belong here.

"I imagine you have a lot of questions, Nathan. But time isn't on our side. And I'm the only one who can give you the answers you're looking for. Still planning to just stand there?"

My breath quickened. That opening ahead… it made my skin crawl.

But turning back wasn't an option now. He knew. About Sisika. About the Nidhogg. About Freya—the woman who looked just like my mother. Because in a way… she was. Freya was the origin of the bloodline my mother descended from.

And Cylla... Where had she truly come from? How many layers of secrets still lay buried beneath everything?

"I don't have all day, Nathan Evenhart."

I looked back at the room one last time. Cylla slept, undisturbed. Peaceful. Vulnerable.

Then I stepped through the doorway.

A freezing wind slammed into me the moment I crossed—dense with mana, almost solid. Behind me, I heard something burn. I turned just in time to see the door igniting, devoured in fire, vanishing into ash.

"What the—?!"

"Calm down," Siegfried said, already walking ahead, unfazed.

We were... in a museum?

But not the same one from the dukes' event. This was far larger. Endlessly larger. Each corridor stretched impossibly far, lined with displays—artifacts of every kind. Some I recognized. Others were so ancient, my mind could barely process their presence.

"Recognize it?" Siegfried spread his arms, showing off the grandeur around us. "Told you I'd show you my master's collection. Welcome. Or rather… welcome to a small part of it."

"How is this even possible?"

"We're inside a pocket dimension. A sealed space within someone's soul." He paused. "It's the same kind of place Sisika took you to when you were a child, right? Or something close. You're all just children to me anyway. Even your oldest are infants compared to my age."

I didn't respond. My mind was racing, trying to absorb everything. Then I looked him in the eye.

"Since you went through all this trouble just to get me here and talk..." I stepped forward, voice steady. "I assume you won't mind if I ask a few things first."

Siegfried paused several steps ahead. He smiled, but didn't turn.

"Of course. But understand this: I won't give you every answer. Some questions carry a price. And I'll only go so far. So choose wisely before opening your mouth, Nathan Evenhart."

Even if he had been the one to drag me into this place, it felt like I was the one pulling Siegfried into this conversation. But I wasn't intimidated.

There was a weight inside me I could no longer ignore—and I had to learn how to carry it.

"If you're really that powerful... then why did you let my professor, Beatrix, die?" My voice came out low, but firm. "Why did you let Cylla get hurt?"

The question had been eating away at me for days. Siegfried simply raised an eyebrow, like he'd been expecting it all along.

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"I'm not omniscient, Nathan. The moment I realized something had happened to Sisika, I went there immediately. She will always be my priority. And because you're her friend, that makes you... an extension of that. Indirectly protected."

"So Beatrix died just because I didn't earn a few more minutes?" A bitter laugh slipped between my teeth. "Is that it?"

He didn't respond with comfort. Or sympathy.

"Your professor wasn't the only one who died." There was a detached coldness in his words—like a dull blade pushed deep. "Other students lost their lives on that tower floor, too. It doesn't sadden me. I'm just stating facts. Just as I'm not omniscient... you're not omnipresent. And you're certainly not omnipotent."

His words cut deep—not because they were cruel, but because they were true.

I had replayed that day in my mind a dozen times. Searching for another path. A missed second. A better decision. But in the end... she died. And Cylla almost died too.

There was no escaping that truth—only the ever-growing void it left behind. A hollow ache that widened every time I remembered how helpless I'd been.

It wasn't the pain that haunted me most. It was fear.

Fear that no matter how much I had gained... there were still things I couldn't protect. Enemies I couldn't stop. Monsters that would crush everything I cared about—like stepping on a flower.

The past few years had given me a dangerous illusion of control. That if I just got strong enough, I could stand against anything.

I was wrong. And the price of that illusion was steep.

Watching Beatrix fall. Seeing Cylla, covered in blood, barely breathing. And me... frozen. Helpless. All I could do was watch it all slip through my fingers—like sand. Like smoke.

The memory still sat in my chest like lead.

"Cylla..." My voice trembled, but I didn't look away. "I want to know if she's going to be okay. If she'll recover—without lasting damage."

My eyes locked with his.

"And I want you to explain that sword. The thing that hurt her... that so-called Aspect of Death."

"Sisika." Siegfried's voice rang like tempered steel. "Not Cylla. Sisika will recover—as I said before. If there were even a chance she wouldn't, I would've removed her from that room myself. All she needs now... is rest."

He turned away, as if that closed the conversation.

"She's not fragile like you. Her soul will regenerate."

He paused.

"We... are not like you. Our soul is mana. And our mana is soul. There's no real separation between body, energy, and essence—not in the way you're used to."

The way he said it... it was impossible to tell whether it was arrogance, or simply fact.

"As for the Aspect of Death..." He gestured for me to follow. "All in due time. First, there's something I need you to see."

Siegfried stopped in front of a wide wall lined with framed paintings—old, intricate, almost alive.

"This room is a replica of the real gallery. The original is in Asgard—where my master resides."

"Asgard...?"

He pointed at one of the frames. In the painting, a massive golden castle stood high atop cloud-wrapped mountains. An enormous rainbow stretched across the sky, touching down right at the gates of the fortress.

"That's an old depiction. One of the most accurate images of Asgard to ever reach the lower realms. I'll explain it properly later."

My eyes traced the paintings... but my mind had already surged far ahead—pressing against the wall of secrets like a storm looking for a crack.

"I want to know what you are. What Sisika truly is. I want to understand as much as I can."

He gave me a sidelong glance, raising a brow like a teacher eyeing an overeager student.

"You're... impatient, aren't you?"

Of course I was. The enemy wasn't some vague figure lurking in the distance anymore. They were real. Tangible. They had been inside the Tower. Three of them. And one of them—Sindra—had tortured students right in front of everyone like it was a game.

If it had been Chloe.
If it had been Kinue—

That thought was what kept me awake, night after night.

Siegfried tilted his head slightly, like he was commenting on the weather. "By the way... you've overloaded your eyes."

My hand rose instinctively, touching my face.

"You're not compatible with that power. You forced it... and now you're paying the price. It'll be a while before you can use them again."

The pain in my eyes over the past few days was intense, and for a while, I even became temporarily blind.

"You used both the Special Eyes and the Celestials in the dumbest way possible. Carelessly. On the verge of suicide." He gave me a sidelong glance. "Honestly? That was stupid. Giving a weapon like that to you was like handing a crystal blade to a pig."

"Did you bring me here to answer my questions... or to insult me?"

He smirked—not with contempt, but like someone amused by a dog barking at thunder.

"I brought you here to give you answers, Nathan Evenhart. But sometimes... the place itself is the answer. Sadly, with your limited intellect, it'll take you a while to figure that out."

He stepped forward—and stared directly at my sword. My grip tightened. I hadn't lowered my guard even once.

"I assume you've figured it out by now... that I'm not just a museum assistant."

The presence he gave off—the weight of it—he wasn't hiding it anymore.

"You're one of the higher beings who've interfered with this world."

"Correct."

"That day, I had to keep up appearances. But if I were to properly introduce myself..." He smiled again.

And for a second—it wasn't human. It was too old to be human. Too vast.

"...I'd start with something like this: Pleased to meet you. Siegfried Hraesvelgr. Seventh of My Name. A Jotun of Asgard. Direct servant of the House of Odinson."

The air inside the museum thickened—suddenly heavier. Even the mana in the atmosphere seemed to still, as if paying silent attention.

Then his gaze shifted back to my sword. And this time, his eyes held something different.

Weight.

Resolve.

"And right after that," he said, voice low but clear, "I'd say: I'm here to talk to you about the prophecy of Ragnarok. The war against..."

He paused—just long enough for the name to echo before it was spoken.

"...Loki."