Athena's General Reincarnated in Another World

Nathan Evenhart:

"Loki can see fifty years into the future?" I asked.

Siegfried nodded. Slowly. The kind of gesture that carries more memory than conviction.

"What's the limitation on that?" I pressed. "No one sees time constantly without paying a price."

He took a deep breath before answering.

"Ordinary seers receive glimpses. Scattered fragments in dreams. A name, a scream, a sensation. But Loki... Loki sees possibilities."

"Possibilities?" I repeated, keeping my voice steady.

"Lines of causality," he explained. "He doesn't see a fixed future, but every plausible future that could unfold over the next fifty years—a tangled web of potential paths. Imagine a thousand different ways you could get up and have breakfast. Loki sees each of them. And with that, he can anticipate movements, calculate outcomes, and craft strategies based on the most favorable option among all the branching paths he envisions."

For a moment, I froze. Facing a strategist like Athena was one thing. Facing a strategist who could see every plan I hadn't even made yet was something else entirely.

"Is that... fate?"

"No." The word cut through the air like a blade. "It's control."

I tried to rationalize some way to oppose him, but nothing felt solid. Every thought collided with a void of possibilities I couldn't reach. I needed more information.

"And you're still saying he loves chaos," I murmured, more to myself than to him. "But what you're describing is anything but chaos."

Siegfried allowed himself a brief, humorless smile.

"The sharpest irony. Among those who claim to embrace chaos, no one is more obsessed with order than Loki."

"How do you fight someone who's already seen every move you'll make before you make it?"

It wasn't despair in the question—it was analysis. A thought process initiated, not concluded.

Siegfried walked at an unhurried pace. This wasn't the first time he'd faced that question. Maybe not even the thousandth.

"That's not something you need to know. It's a game of gods, Nathan Evenhart."

"And I'm just a piece."

He stopped. Looked at me for a moment. He didn't need to say "yes." It was already obvious.

"Even with all that, Loki isn't invincible." His voice softened. "The more possibilities one tries to see, the murkier the future becomes. Like trying to look in all directions at once. In the end, you see everything... and nothing."

I frowned slightly. "The advantage unravels if he tries to see too much."

"Exactly. Power turns against those who don't understand its limits. But Loki understood. And he adapted."

Siegfried raised a hand and snapped his fingers.

The air split into shards of light, revealing a floating chessboard before us, built entirely from raw mana. The pieces, translucent, glowed like embers under a veil of mist.

"His ability—the Aspect of Time—is something called the 'Board of Fate.' He can only see his own future, of course, and the pieces he controls, like in a chess game. That means the moves he can foresee are limited to what's inside the board," Siegfried explained.

"In other words... he can't see all futures, right? Not omnisciently?" I asked, trying to grasp it better.

"Exactly. But there are loopholes. Imagine he has an important pawn, like a duke or a king. Do you know how many people those kinds of figures interact with throughout their lifetime?" Siegfried replied.

"I see. So through those people, he could glimpse the future of many others..." I said, beginning to understand.

"Exactly. That's why it's called the 'Board of Fate.' He's limited in how many pieces he can control. That's why he chooses pieces of great importance—otherwise, he'd lose his edge in the game," Siegfried explained.

I paused to think. Some things began to fall into place. They weren't new answers—just confirmations of deductions I hadn't yet dared to voice aloud.

"The fact that you put the Asalon family on the throne… and then kept the empire intact even after the division. That was a move on the board too, wasn't it?"

Siegfried cast me a sideways glance. A faint smile surfaced—not mocking, but the expression of someone watching another uncover the truth on their own.

"You're not as blind as the others. Yes. The continent was drowning in conflict. Too many kingdoms. Too many borders. Constant chaos. We helped the future emperor unify the realms. He was a piece worth investing in on our side."

"And even with the three-way division… the name Asalon still holds the reins."

"Because it's still useful that way."

I fell silent for a moment. My line of reasoning was dragging me to a place I didn't want to go—but the logic was impossible to ignore.

"And I… I'm at the center of it."

"You're a direct descendant of the royal elven bloodline. And your fiancée governs one of the eight human duchies. Whether you like it or not, Evenhart, you're already on the board."

I felt the weight of his words, but I didn't let it sink me. Being called a piece in a game of gods didn't offend me—what mattered was knowing where I stood on the board, and what I could move from there.

"I don't like being called a piece," I said, not angrily—just firmly.

"But well-placed pieces hold up walls. And walls, when they stand… save worlds," Siegfried replied, clearly referencing the border wall and the mission entrusted to the three kingdoms.

"That move you made in the past… keeping the empire together, balancing the kingdoms… is that what kept Loki from breaking the wall?"

"In part. Nothing endures for only one reason." His eyes returned to the mana board, which was beginning to dissolve like mist under the sun. "But yes, it was one of several actions. The wall keeps that giant gate from opening. Our move bought time for your world."

The board vanished completely, as if it had never existed.

But the words remained. And they carried weight.

"My mother." The phrase came out calm, but every syllable was heavy—like something that had been foreshadowed for a long time. "In the vision I had… the goddess Freya. She looked exactly like her."

The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. Siegfried didn't look away, but he didn't rush the reply either.

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"Do you believe in reincarnation, Nathan?" he asked, his gaze fixed elsewhere.

A chill ran down my spine.

"You're saying… my mother… is the goddess Freya?" I asked, afraid of the answer.

He let out a short, dry laugh.

"No. That was just a joke… probably too small for this moment."

My heart was still pounding. But before I could respond, he continued, now serious.

"The letter was a revelation. A glimpse of your lineage. Your mother… carries a special bloodline. From the elven perspective… sacred."

Sacred...

The word echoed in my mind like thunder in a closed chamber.

He crossed his arms, staring past me. "All living beings are creations of the Primordial Gods. In a way, we all descend from them. But Freya… she was different. She wanted to create life that was truly hers alone."

He continued.

"Freya was the Goddess of Beauty, Love, and Fertility," he said with reverence, like someone repeating an ancient prayer. "She was called the Goddess of Beauty because she was the most beautiful woman in all the realms. Her heart was the purest—that's why she was also called the Goddess of Love. Fertility came from her unique mastery over plant magic. But, ironically, Freya was unable to create life... she couldn't bear a child. Remember what I told you—divinities must sacrifice part of their soul in the process. She couldn't do it. But... she found a way."

My mother... is identical to the woman who held the title of Goddess of Beauty. I guess some things make more sense now.

In that moment, an image formed in my mind—a woman of stunning beauty, identical to my mother... except for the elven ears.

"She couldn't create an immortal being, but she succeeded in creating a mortal one. The one who carried the title of first king of the elves. And long after him, your mother was born... and then you."

The pieces began falling into place. My mother's beauty. Her gentle, loving nature.

"She resembles Freya because she carries her blood," he said. "She inherited the matriarch's face."

His gaze locked onto mine, sharp and unwavering.

"Freya was one of the key forces behind Loki's downfall... and the destruction of many who served him. Now tell me—what do you think will happen when the enemy learns that a woman who looks like her is still alive?"

I didn't answer immediately.

The question already carried its answer.

"My mother will be hunted."

"If they succeed... death might be a kindness."

The words came dry, but not cruel. Just... honest.

I turned to him, feeling fury rise inside me.

"Oh, don't get me wrong," he said, his tone nearly cold. "If the enemy finds out who she is... and actually finds her... a quick death would be a merciful fate, don't you think?"

The air grew heavy. But my feet remained grounded.

I tried to think through the possibilities. "And what if Loki already knows about her? He can see all possible futures, can't he?"

If the enemy could glimpse every potential outcome, then at some point, he must've seen her.

"Your mother was a commoner and would've gone unnoticed if—"

"If she had never met my father."

"Yes," he said. "Though no one knows what she looks like, and the records only list her name. The problem is... they've discovered that she's—"

"A princess of the elven kingdom," I finished the deduction.

It was because of me. When my lineage was registered, they discovered my mother. I began piecing it together. Even if there are many branches of possibility, the only moment she became known... was when I came into existence and took the lineage test on the stone that led Adrihna to track me.

"Loki knows there are descendants of Freya—they rule the elven kingdom. The issue is my mother's appearance. If she shows herself in public as a princess..." I began thinking. "He'll find her."

I looked at Siegfried. There were surely more limitations to Loki's power—otherwise, the other gods wouldn't still be fighting him. There were things Siegfried wasn't telling me, but right now, I didn't have the power to demand more. There was a powerful enemy out there. I had to set aside my pride and think coldly.

My family came first. I needed as much information as I could get.

"Then tell me what I need to do. What's the next step? I assume you didn't come all this way just to tell me we're in trouble."

Siegfried studied me for a moment. There was a grave calmness on his face. Nothing there was a bluff. Nothing was manipulation. Everything... was part of a greater game.

"I'm not here to make threats or waste time," he said firmly. "But let's be honest—it's in both our interests to stop Loki from taking over your world."

"Of course," I replied.

"For now, protect the truth. Don't reveal anything. Don't tell anyone what you've learned. Loki doesn't see everything—but there are far too many eyes on the board. Secrecy is your best defense."

I nodded once.

"My people are already in motion. One of our envoys is in contact with the monarchs. But until then... you must remain silent about this conversation. My people and I can act like Loki—we can't control everything. So our presence will be limited to moments like this… just conversations with you. For now."

I opened my mouth to ask more, but Siegfried raised a hand calmly—not as a command to be silent, but as a sign that the audience was over.

"Our time is up."

"Wait," I said, stepping forward. "I still have questions."

At the center of the museum, the air began to fracture. Cracks of light, pressure, sound. A door formed—made of pure energy.

"I know," Siegfried replied, without turning to face me. "And you'll have many more before the end."

"Why did you talk to me alone? Why not go to Sisika?"

He paused, this time truly hesitating. The weight of the question demanded more than a nod or a short answer.

"Time was short. I couldn't wait any longer. And... her situation is delicate."

For a moment, I felt relief. The truth was, I wanted to know if he planned to take Cylla away.

"She doesn't have the memories, as you know. If I appeared before her now, it would be too much. Confusing. Painful. She needs to hear it from you. Learn gradually. Understand..."

He turned his face slightly—just enough for me to see his eyes.

"After all, you're the 'Beloved.' I don't agree with it, but I'm following my master's orders."

The portal vibrated. It seemed alive. Unstable.

"As for the half-demons," he went on, already stepping away, "don't worry. They won't return anytime soon. They're forbidden from entering your world. And even if they tried... they couldn't."

"My family—is my family safe?" I asked.

"They are. I made sure of it myself these past few days. You can walk the streets, train, sleep under your own roof. There will be no shadows over your home."

The reassurance brought immediate relief—but it quickly faded, replaced by a deeper unease.

"And what about my mother?" I asked. "How do I prepare for what's coming?"

Siegfried didn't smile. He didn't hesitate either.

"The main enemy is contained. The Heralds and Archbishops won't cross over again. But there are others... Lesser forces. Creatures that can still slip through the remaining portals in this world."

He stepped closer. His shadow seemed to stretch outward, growing around him.

"And remember… there are traitors among the humans."

That problem still lingered.

"I don't believe any human servant could harm Sisika. That would be suicide. Aesir dragons don't forgive... and they don't forget. Only a madman would dare lay hands on something that belongs to her."

A trace of a smile touched his face—stern, but genuine.

"Even the gods fear the wrath of a dragon god."

He gave me one final look.

"Until next time, Nathan Evenhart."

Then, with a sudden gesture, he pushed me. Not with brutal force—but with certainty.

"Wait!" I shouted. "How will I know when I'm safe—and when I'm not?!"

His voice reached me a second before the world vanished.

"I'll warn you. Just like I'm warning you now. But for a time, we—the gods—will step back. Too many wars are forming. And there are plans that demand silence. I don't know when we'll speak again... but we will."

The energy consumed me like a soundless whirlpool.

The impact was blunt.

I hit the ground on my back, but my body moved before my mind caught up. I rolled, braced on my elbows, stood up. No wounds. No marks.

The room was dark. The windows shut. The air heavier than it should've been. I didn't know how long I'd been gone—minutes, hours, maybe days. But something in the air told me the world hadn't changed nearly as much as I had.

I brought a hand to my forehead. Not from pain—there was no pain—but to try to gather the last traces of what had just happened.

Siegfried. The wall. Freya. My mother.

The questions hadn't diminished. They had only changed shape.

And then... a voice.

"Hello, Icarus. How about we talk for a bit?"

I turned slowly. In the corner of the darkness, seated with one leg crossed over the other, she waited—serene, untouchable, as if she already knew every word I was about to say before I even opened my mouth.

The Goddess Athena.

"Who are you… really?" I asked.

"I think you already know exactly who I am..." she said with a smile in the dark.