"Mmm… grumble… Tannin's always shouting… So, you want to know about Daddy, the Big Bad Wolf, and, what was his name again? Sleipnir… oh, that's too long, let's just call him Su, okay?"
The deafening roar had finally woken Midgardsormr, well, half-woken him. He was still talking through a yawn so wide you could have flown a fighter jet through it. And apparently Fenrir was now "Doggy". Sure, why not?
Azazel folded his arms. "Right. We've ended up on Loki's bad side, and if he drags the world into Ragnarök, you'll have to crawl out of that bed of yours to join the fun, won't you? I figured you'd rather keep napping, so give us something we can use."
Midgardsormr puffed out a sleepy sigh. "Ugh, working sounds awful… but fine, ask away. First, Tannin, will Ddraig and Albion really fight side by side with you lot?"
"They will," the dragon king answered. "Ragnarök can wait, it's Loki we're stomping first."
"Huh. Never thought the Two Heavenly Dragons would play the 'enemy‑of‑my‑enemy' card," Midgardsormr chuckled. "Okay, the worst problem is Doggy. One bite from him and you're fertilizer. There is a weak point, though: bind him with Gleipnir. That chain can still hold him."
Hearing that, everyone sat up a little straighter. It was vital intel… but somehow, Midgardsormr's drawl and the cutesy nickname "Doggy" took the edge off the tension.
Azazel grimaced. "We already tried Gleipnir. He tore it in half on his way to Japan. That's why we woke you, got anything else?"
"Hmm?" Midgardsormr cocked his massive head. "Maybe Daddy upgraded Doggy. So upgrade the chain. Find the dark‑elf elder who reforges dwarf artifacts, you'll need that version."
"Coordinates?" Azazel asked.
"I'll beam them into Albion's Sacred Gear. The white one can handle maps; the red one probably can't."
"Hey!" Issei yelped. "Teacher, are you planning to fail the whole class here?"
"Get your geography score out of the gutter and we'll talk," Azazel shot back. "You're the only member of the club dragging down the average."
Issei wilted.
Midgardsormr went on. "As for Daddy and Su, no glaring weak spots, really. They're tough. Su was built to sprint across battlefields, so he's nearly as durable as Doggy. A clean hit from Mjölnir could put Daddy down, but Su might need two or three."
"The thunder god's hammer…" Azazel muttered. "Borrowing the real one sounds impossible."
"Then borrow the replica the elves keep," Midgardsormr yawned. "Easier than sweet‑talking Thor."
Azazel nodded. "We'll try. We've already asked Odin, he's stalling the Japanese gods with apologies. All right, anything else?"
"That's all I've got," the world‑serpent said, all but asleep on his feet. "Fun chat. I'm going back to bed. Night‑night."
With that, his enormous form faded from the hologram.
Issei exhaled. "That was… not what I expected from a Dragon King. I thought they were all stern tyrant types like Tannin."
"Tannin's the exception," I said. "Dragon King is mostly a power title. The only other one with a real regal vibe is Tiamat."
Tannin snorted. "She'd call it 'professional pride.'"
Azazel clapped his hands. "All right. We need Mjölnir, even the replica, and a powered‑up Gleipnir. Until those arrive, we break for the day."
=====================
The Next Morning
Everyone reconvened in Issei's underground gym. Odin was out negotiating meeting security, so Rossweisse had taken over watch duty; Baraqiel guarded the All‑Father elsewhere.
Azazel slapped a small, ornate hammer onto the table. "Gift from the old goat. Yes, he did have this tucked away."
Issei blinked. "That's Mjölnir?"
"The replica, but close enough," Azazel said. "Packed with divine lightning. Almost nothing survives a direct hit."
He shoved it toward Issei. "Odin wants you to wield it. Baraqiel and Rossweisse have already tweaked the spellwork so a devil can channel it."
"Me?! But I can barely lift the thing!"
"Put on your Boosted Gear," Azazel said. "Then treat its lightning like you do with Ascalon, pour your gift power into it."
Issei summoned his red armor, strained, and the hammer grew to twice his size, smashing into the floor with a boom. Everyone winced.
Azazel sighed. "Knew it. Mjölnir only obeys the pure of heart. You're a… how to put this… walking hormonal disaster, and the hammer can tell. So brute force it is."
Issei's face went beet‑red. "Quit calling me that! Okay, fine. I'll lug it around in Balance Breaker. But I'll need Loki pinned before I swing it, a hammer this big is useless if he dodges."
"We'll handle that," Azazel said. "Next: who fights which target? Red and white dragons take Loki together, that's history in the making. Any objections?"
Vali smirked. "None. Albion, any complaints?"
[I refuse to partner with a debauched "Oppai Dragon"!] complained the white dragon. Ddraig began to panic, the two legendary wyrms devolving into a tearful shouting match about their hosts' reputations until both ended up bawling. The meeting paused until they calmed down.
When order returned, Azazel continued. "Good. Loki is Issei and Vali. That leaves Fenrir and Sleipnir. Hyoudou, Himejima Kuroka, and Rossweisse will execute the anti‑Sleipnir gambit Ikki suggested. Everyone else helps bind Fenrir with Gleipnir, then dog‑piles whichever flank needs it."
He turned to Saji. "And you, Grigori's got a data set that could seriously powerup Vritra's sacred gear. Interested?"
Saji paled. "Define 'power‑up'…"
"Standard procedure: crucifixion, steel balls, drills, saws, then dunking you in weighted chains. Basic stuff."
"THAT IS NOT BASIC!"
But Sona's stern King command left Saji no escape. Azazel dragged the poor Pawn away, screaming.
"Farewell, noble friend," Issei muttered, hand over his heart.
"May the Lord watch over your… research trip," Asia prayed with sacred sincerity.
=====================
That night, after lighter training, I video‑called Kuzuha. Our talk was cutely hijacked when Kuroka and Koneko, fresh from their bath in matching white nightwear, slipped into the room and began chatting with her. Plans for a future sleepover were made, complete with Kuzuha volunteering as a hug pillow, to Koneko's barely contained delight.
We kept the conversation light; tomorrow would bring enough heaviness of its own. Eventually we said good‑night, the girls curled up on either side of me, and the house fell into silence.
=====================
Dawn of the Showdown
Vali was already exercising when I entered the training hall. Albion was muttering, "I am not the Butt Dragon Emperor…" on loop. Vali tried soothing him; it didn't take.
Outside, Odin's booming laughter rolled down the corridor. "Fwo‑fwo‑fwo! The Oppai Dragon and the Butt Dragon, perhaps I should publish The Tragic Tale of Two Poor Dragons!"
[THE TRAGIC?!]
[WOOOAAAAHHH!!!]
Two earth‑shaking roars echoed through the estate, the twin voices of Heaven's strongest dragons heralding the dawn of the coming war against a god.
Tomorrow, Ragnarok could wait. Today, we fight.
=============
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