As the young student began to move, the corridor became silent one by one. The all-too-familiar sound of his steps resounded throughout the entire school, but it seemed as if they reverberated into the very depths of the Niflheim.
It was a sound which, in the minds of the students, might parallel the treble gait of a skeleton. A sound which was an 'unnatural' sound, and one which was only found within a hospital. He was a particular person. His existence had been known throughout the entire Asgardian race. To others, he would be an obstacle; one who possesses an abnormal strength. But to others, he would be an equal. To some, he would be a friend. Someone whom the others could identify with.
The students of Midgard could only view this person as an existence of danger.
"Hey, look, he's coming over here."
"Yeah, he's here."
It was not a seemingly evil presence, as might be expected. There was no sign of a frightening and conspicuous warrior. The eyes of the student reflected this image. And seeing his seeming lack of sense, they began to feel fear and unease. To them, there was something abnormal about him; as if he was someone who existed outside the boundaries of the ordinary.
The shape of his body had an air of agony, as if it was truly, as if it really was inside a hospital operating room. The wheelchair of Midgard was never intended to be used by him. It was as if it had been defiled by this extremely disgusting person.
But the chair was not the only incredible thing about him. The student's entire frame—body, mind and soul—were completely greyed out. To quote from Raimu, 'his colour was the colour of dust.' We who saw him for the first time were a little stunned.
"W-what's his name?"
"He doesn't seem to know his own name. He seems to know the name of his species, though… but that much is certain."
"A race as powerful as Niflheim must have a name, right?"
As they replied, we all murmured in response to an unprecedented sight. If a student could so easily break down into conversation and ask such a question of a person whose existence was unique, then no amount of praise could adequately describe his famed strength. A leap of logic had, at that moment, popped into all of our heads. An unspeakable incident had occurred.
We stopped all of our footsteps, as if the sound of our walking might spell out 'startle'. But despite this, he, who seemed to be a being of the Niflheim, all but ignored the uproar around him. Like we were all gathered around at a funeral, he approached and exited the school gates.
There was no denying that we were struck with a sense of awe, and as a direct result he had appeared as a hero. To himself and to the others, it was all but undoubtedly a fact, but we could not help but to be confused. We, the student body, wanted to know.
"He's coming back again?"
"Forget it—he'll come hang around anyway."
It was a fact that the student who was known by many as 'the strong'—Hail—saw the entirety of Midgard as his 'hometown'. He would just quietly roll up to the school, and silently leave as if embarrassed. It was as if he had been wandering to Midgard. It was as if he was just staying here as though it was a rest house.
"Man, he sure showed up."
"I feel kind of uncomfortable. I'm gonna get lost now."
"What's going on? He's been here for a while now! Are we supposed to greet him?"
All the students began to gather. The ones gathered were all Niflheim students. His appearance was amazing, as if to cause awe. He really was a being of rare power. It seemed he was a person who possessed great depth of knowledge; as if he was a king.
But amongst the students who had gathered, the students who were 'the strong' appeared, absolutely refusing to acknowledge the existence of Hail. He was the one who caused everyone to gather, who gripped everyone's attention. To do this, he had to appear in front of him.
To the Niflheim, who were seen as the true enemies of Midgard, this person was an existence of fear. To us, who had been struck with a sense of awe, this was an existence of doubt and admiration.
With glistening eyes, he spoke with a voice which seemed to shake the whole school ground.
"Don't let your guard down. There is a man heading towards the school."
"What?"
"I know that many of you don't recognize me, but I'm a student of Midgard and a good friend of your teachers and seniors. The word 'treacherous' isn't very likely to be used to refer to me. I'm not like that."
Even though he spoke a line with a tone of friendship, that was an absolute lie. This was the truth.
"……haha. I'm pretty sure I'm not a treach—bof. Anyways, what is it? Don't pull my leg. I'm sure you're all really scared of me…"
"….haha. Thanks for your compliment."
It seemed he was trying to humor us.
"By the way, I came to tell you about this, but the method of control and influence of the Niflheim has been confirmed. The influence which is currently spreading, will very soon turn into a spell of evil. I was instructed to tell you this."
"You better be joking."
"It's not something which can be joked around with. The Norse mythological god of thunder, Thor, had something similar to this in his epic poem, Bregaltr. It's called the Hammer."
"Uhh…. the poems of an old myth?"
"Yes. Please treat this as a real warning. Please be warned that this time, we have discovered that there was a spy amongst the Niflheim side. This man is heading towards the school.
