"What Death Goddess? Too cowardly to do your own dirty work, forcing me to coerce Lord Loki, you spineless coward!"
"Shut up, you don't have a say in this!"
Hela sharply rebuked with a gloomy face, raising her hand to shoot Magic Chains from a pillar, ready to imprison Brynhild in the dungeon sooner.
"I refuse!"
While struggling fiercely to break free from the Magic Chains, Brynhild loudly mocked Hela with the most venomous language possible.
"You bloody executioner, Father God and Lord Loki were absolutely right to banish you! Look in the mirror and see yourself — unloved and uncared for, a hideous freak!"
"You're seeking death!"
Hurt to the core, Hela furiously thrust the Night Sky Sword towards Brynhild, its blade whistling through the air.
Indeed, this is how it should be.
It's the inevitable fate for the weapon to be broken by its master; there's no logic in a weapon sacrificing itself for its master.
