Several hours earlier.

An explosion tore through the elegant evening of the charity gala.


When the fire alarm went off at Nolant City's Museum of Arts and Sciences, I was on stage delivering that speech about "humanitarian care." Through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, I could see flames and thick smoke rising from the Celestial Plaza in the distance—that was the little trouble I had created for him tonight.

The audience below looked in horror toward the windows, their whispers surging like a tide. Through my invisible earpiece, I received real-time data analysis from the Kaleidoscope system:

[Kaleidoscope Analysis Report]

- Global Attention: +340%
- Public Sentiment: Fear 18%, Curiosity 45%, Sympathy 23%, Anger 14%
- Prediction: Odin's Trust Index will drop below the critical 75% threshold within 48 hours


"Ladies and gentlemen," I said calmly, "it seems our 'Guardian' is experiencing a little trouble tonight."

[Typhon's Internal Calculation]
Each fearful expression, every whisper, is a perfect note in this grand performance I've meticulously orchestrated. The vulnerability of the Faith Power System is perfectly displayed before me—public emotions are so easily manipulated, and the fate of superhumans is bound to these emotions.

[Kaleidoscope Emergency Analysis Report]
"Miss, anomaly detected. Target Odin's behavior pattern today deviates from expectations by 73.2%. He didn't go to the designated medical facility, but instead is conducting... some kind of personal investigation."

[Real-time Tracking Data]
- Locations visited: 12 historical "rescue" sites
- Personnel contacted: 47 civilian witnesses
- Behavior analysis: Information gathering, non-aggressive
- Threat level: Reassessment in progress...

Interesting. I thought he would be blinded by anger, but he actually chose to... think?

I put down my speech notes, maintaining that wise and merciful smile on my face.

Tonight, my role is "Mercy." But beneath this mask, I'm reassessing my objective.

It seems Odin has more... potential than I imagined. Perhaps I don't need to destroy a god, but instead... awaken a human?

At the annual charity gala of the "Union for Superhuman Disaster Victims" held at the Nolant City Museum of Arts and Sciences, I, Evelyn Thorne, was the center of attention. I wore a dignified black gown, adorned with a mourning brooch made of obsidian and crushed diamonds. My makeup was elegant yet understated, my smile gentle and compassionate, and every glance I cast was filled with sympathy for the unfortunate and hope for the future.

I shook hands with those who had lost everything under the shadow of "gods," listening to their stories. I patiently heard a mother weep as she recounted how she held her legless son among the rubble, listened to a white-haired old man describe how his bookstore was reduced to ashes in an alley battle between heroes and villains. On my face, I maintained just the right balance of sorrow and empathy throughout.

But in my mind, that never-ceasing machine called "Kaleidoscope" was efficiently breaking down, refining, and quantifying these emotion-laden stories into cold rows of data.

"...Emotional resonance index: 9.2. Convertible to public sympathy points: 8.7. Potential momentum for exerting public opinion pressure on Genesis Group's current compensation policy: 7.8."

In my eyes, tears have their value, sorrow has its price, and hatred is the most precious energy that can be guided and utilized.

The highlight of the banquet was my speech as the largest sponsor of the association. Standing in the spotlight, facing elites from all sectors of society and media cameras, I delivered a speech full of humanitarian concern, personally written by Sebastian.

"...We never deny the greatness of heroes," I said in a solemn yet firm voice, "but we must recognize that great power requires even greater responsibility. Tonight, we gather here not to spread hatred, but to seek a more just and transparent future. A future where every innocent sacrifice is seen, remembered, and respected..."

The speech won thunderous applause. My social media account was instantly flooded with tags like "beautiful and kind-hearted" and "true civilian hero."

After the banquet, in the backstage lounge, a middle-aged man named Carl Jenkins approached me through Sebastian's introduction. He was once Nolant City's top energy engineer, but his wife and daughter died a year ago during a chemical plant rescue operation led by "Captain Flame." The official statement was that they died in an explosion caused by terrorists.

But Carl didn't believe it.

"Miss Thorne," he handed me an encrypted data stick, his eyes bloodshot with excitement and hatred. "This is the original data about that accident that I spent a year stealing from the Genesis Group's internal network. That explosion... was deliberately caused by Captain Flame igniting excess chemical storage tanks to make his entrance more visually impactful! My family, they didn't die at the hands of terrorists, they were turned into fireworks for that so-called 'hero's' personal show!"

I took the data stick and nodded solemnly to him. "Mr. Jenkins, I promise you, justice may be delayed, but it will never be absent. The Union... I will never let your family's sacrifice be meaningless."

After seeing Carl off, I returned to my private car. Outside the window, the city's neon lights were dreamlike. I inserted the data stick into my wristband, and massive amounts of data instantly flooded into the "Kaleidoscope."

"Sebastian," I began speaking, my voice returning to the coldness that belonged to "Typhon," "target locked, 'Trojan Horse' is in position. Notify the 'Harp' system, prepare to put on a good show."

"Yes, miss."

I need a stage, a stage where Odin can appear and personally unveil this abscess. And the best stage often emerges from the most carefully crafted "accidents."

……

At this moment, Odin was in the sky above the city, circling patiently like a falcon with a purpose.

Silas's "binding spell" prevented him from utilizing Genesis Group's resources, but this actually made him more focused on his own perceptive abilities. He closed his eyes, carefully capturing every faint trace of energy residue in the air, every abnormal electromagnetic fluctuation.

He was searching for the person called "Typhon." Not for revenge, but out of a kind of... curiosity that he himself couldn't explain.

That person, how did they accomplish those impossible things?

That person, why choose him as the target?

That person, are they also bound by this world, just like him?

Just then, he heard it.

It was an extremely faint signal, coming from the steel bridge spanning the Nolant River directly below him.

"I've found you."

It was my voice, processed through a voice changer, repeatedly playing from a small loop player.

He immediately locked onto the signal source—an oil tanker speeding across the bridge.

This was a trap. A trap he knew was a trap.

But immediately after, he witnessed another scene. The oil tanker suddenly lost control, crashed through the bridge's guardrail, its front tilting precariously, threatening to plunge into the residential area below at any moment, potentially causing a catastrophic explosion.

Odin stopped.

His brain, comparable to a supercomputer, completed a cost-benefit analysis in an instant.

Going to save people meant that he would once again be led by the nose by "Typhon," becoming just a character in that person's script.

Not saving people, allowing the tanker truck to fall, would mean that he would personally defile the bottom line deep in his heart and become the pure "commercial product" that Silas spoke of.

But this time, Odin had a new thought.

Perhaps what "Typhon" wanted was not to control him, but to test him.

To test whether he still had his own choices.

To test whether he still had the heart of a "human."

"Damn it!"

Odin grinned, that smile carrying a trace of long-lost, innocent excitement.

He roared and transformed into a golden light, instantly appearing in front of the tanker truck. He extended one hand and effortlessly stopped the tens of tons of steel beast on the ground. Then, he tore open the door with one pull, but there was no one inside, only a small player that was looping a recording.

Just as he was about to become angry at being tricked again, another strange event occurred.

On the body of the tanker truck, a miniature projector disguised as a company logo was activated, projecting toward the sky a massive file composed of countless photos, videos, and data.

The contents of the file were all the evidence of "Captain Flame" abusing prohibited enhancers, as well as the location of his next drug deal and "private party"—Stardust Club, VIP Room Number Three.

The sky became my bulletin board.

A clumsy moral kidnapping transformed, in an instant, into an ironclad public trial against the "Genesis Group."

Odin looked at the enormous projection in the sky, and in his golden eyes, there was no anger, but rather a complex... appreciation.

He finally understood that "Typhon" never wanted to play a game of hide-and-seek with him.

What they wanted was to make him become the... blade in their hand to judge the entire "Age of Gods."

But perhaps, they were also giving him a chance.

A chance to prove that he was more than just a "product."

He didn't roar, but silently examined the horrifying evidence floating in the air. In those photos, the face of "Captain Flame"—someone he once considered a "comrade"—now appeared so foreign and detestable.

A moment later, he raised his head, looking toward the city sky, and said in a voice only he could hear:

"Very well, Typhon. I accept your invitation."

Then, he transformed into a shooting star, tearing through the night sky, shooting toward the "Stardust Club."

But this time, not out of anger, but out of choice.

[Time: Same moment - Kaleidoscope Command Center]
I watched Odin's biometric data on the holographic screen and said to Sebastian with satisfaction: "The fish has taken the bait, but this time, he chose to bite it himself. Notify the units standing by at the club to prepare the final lights."

The system detected not only his physiological responses, but also the... transformation taking place within his heart.

Odin's arrival was without any disguise. Like a confident meteor, he calmly landed on the VIP box's balcony, without shattering anything, simply using his power to effortlessly unlock the door and quietly walk in.

"Lord... Odin?" Captain Flame, still in a drug-induced excited state, looked at the god of death before him in terror, not understanding what was happening.

Odin didn't waste words with him. He simply reached out, grabbed him by the throat, and lifted him up like a chicken. With his other hand, he reached directly into Captain Flame's pocket and took out a pack of blue pills.

"A disgrace to the Genesis Group," Odin's voice was as cold as polar winds, "but even more, my disgrace."

It was at this moment that I activated the final program. All screens in the box were instantly taken over by me, beginning to loop all the evidence of Captain Flame's crimes.

A public broadcast trial had begun.

The development of events was completely within my expectation. Odin's hatred for Captain Flame stemmed from his deep-rooted adherence to "honor." But this time, he didn't choose to kill this scoundrel; instead, he slammed him violently onto the ground, then turned to face the camera.

"I am Odin," his voice spread to every corner of the city through all the amplifiers. "I will not take responsibility for this man's crimes, but I will be responsible for my own choices. Starting tonight, I am no longer anyone's 'product'. I am only myself."

This wasn't part of my plan, but it was more perfect than any plan I could have made.

Just then, the door of the box was roughly forced open, and a team of security personnel from the "Genesis Group" rushed in. They had obviously received an urgent order from Silas to "protect" Odin.

"Mr. Odin, please leave with us immediately," the captain in charge said. "It's no longer safe here."

Odin looked at them, then at the screen in the corner still playing the evidence, and finally at Captain Flame whom he had subdued.

"No," he said, "I'm not going anywhere."

He walked to the window, looking at the night sky over the city, as if searching for something.

"If 'Typhon' is here," he said, his voice loud enough to be captured by all nearby listening devices, "I want to talk to you. Not as enemies, but... as someone who is also trapped in a cage."

In the "Kaleidoscope," I listened to his words, feeling an unprecedented complex emotion welling up inside me.

This "god" had truly begun to learn how to think.

And I, for the first time, discovered that in my perfect plan, perhaps I had missed the most important variable:

Sincerity.

But would the "Genesis Group" really give him this chance?