Chapter 116: The Retreat of Darkness

"Hela is my husband's eldest daughter." Frigga fell silent for a moment, seemingly recalling some unpleasant memories. "Her sanity deteriorated during years of relentless combat, leaving my husband with no choice but to seal her away in the hope of eventually purifying those dark energies."

"Though looking back now, Hela must have been corrupted by the God of Darkness during her battles." Frigga shook her head. She did not know much about the events of that era; after all, Hela was not her daughter, and Odin had always kept that history shrouded in secrecy. Today, aside from Odin himself, almost no one in Asgard knows the full details of what happened back then.

Artanis fell into contemplation. He, too, recalled Hela's identity. When the Protoss Empire had been exploring parallel universes, they had taken note of this eldest princess of Asgard, which was why the name sounded so familiar to him.

Among the records Frigga had gathered were details of Hela and Odin jointly wiping out the remnants of the Dark Elves, which was why Artanis had been curious about this familiar-sounding figure.

Although Hela was rarely mentioned in these historical texts, close observation revealed her participation in almost every major battle—surely not the kind of person who should have remained utterly obscure.

Yet despite this, external libraries contained zero information regarding her. As a frequent patron of Asgard's library, Artanis had every right to find this peculiar.

However, since Hela was Odin's daughter, no matter how convoluted the underlying circumstances might be, it was ultimately someone else's family business, making it inappropriate for Artanis to inquire any further.

Furthermore, these books contained scarcely any information about the Dark Elves, offering little beyond a few combat logs.

A lingering premonition told Artanis that the relationship between the Dark Elves and Hela would soon be brought to light.

With the reinforcement of the Protoss Empire's warriors, Asgard's forces quickly rounded up the rampaging Dark Elves. However, that cloaked Dark Elf mothership—which had vanished as soon as it appeared—was nowhere to be found, meaning Malekith had somehow slipped away.

There was simply no helping it. Asgard was located at the topmost tier of Yggdrasil, possessing numerous secret passages alongside the Bifrost. The Protoss Empire could not possibly know every hidden route in Asgard, as those were, after all, military secrets.

Judging by Malekith's sudden raid and abrupt retreat, Asgard itself seemed unaware of which secret passage he had used to slip through, allowing him to escape.

Yet this situation left Vorazun and Moyo, stationed aboard the mothership, completely baffled. What was the purpose of the Dark Elves' raid? Was it merely to rattle Asgard's sensitive nerves, or to test Asgard's combat strength?

Of course, it was also possible that it had no meaning at all. Recovering from her initial surprise, Vorazun fell into deep thought. Meaningless actions greatly pleased the God of Darkness, leading her to strongly suspect that the true purpose of the Dark Elves' expedition was to earn the favor of some evil deity.

These, however, were merely conjectures. Vorazun was no prophet, and when it came to exploring the unknown, she much preferred direct combat, so the thought remained nothing more than a fleeting notion in her mind.

Asgardians had successfully repelled the Dark Elf attack, and cheers erupted both inside and out of the royal palace. Hearing these cheers, Artanis and Frigga paused slightly, falling into a state of puzzlement similar to Vorazun's.

Frigga quickly snapped out of it, casting an apologetic look at Artanis. "I must beg your pardon as I must take my leave. Perhaps our guests will enjoy the fine wine at tonight's victory banquet."

"This is only what we ought to do. Please proceed, Your Majesty." Artanis closed the book. Since the Dark Elves had retreated, there was no immediate rush to study these texts.

Frigga hurried away with her attendants toward the palace exterior. With Odin plunged into the Sleep of Ages, she needed to preside over the grand situation herself, leaving her no time to accompany Artanis in studying historical records.

Along the way, Frigga encountered a jubilant Thor. She immediately called him over and issued several stern instructions.

With a goofy smile, Thor repeatedly promised that he would properly host the brothers of the Protoss Empire. Frigga sighed, left with no choice but to continue on her way to summon the Minister of Defense.

Loki was currently conversing with the Protoss Zealots who had descended from the battlefield. His older brother had vanished the moment the battle ended, and as Asgard's second prince, he naturally had to shoulder diplomatic duties in Frigga's absence.

After exchanging words with the group of Zealots, Loki felt a bizarre sensation akin to facing a pack of Hulks. After all, their combat strength drew upon fury, leaving the usually eloquent diplomat momentarily lost for words.

Fortunately, none of the Zealots minded; the spiritual discipline of the Zealots indeed relied upon fury as fuel. When the Protoss Empire pioneered the path of the Templar, theologians discovered that psionic power invariably fluctuated with emotional tides. These intense emotions could unlock a person's ultimate strength, giving birth to the Zealots.

By mastering their emotions, these Zealots maintained a state of perpetual fury in battle, stacking their rage as the combat escalated—a mechanism that continuously amplified their strength as the fighting wore on.

These emotions did not merely draw upon the Zealot's inner power; through resonance with the Khala, a Zealot's fury could mobilize the accumulated emotions of countless departed Protoss within the Khala, thereby securing its profound support.

Yet, because of this, the power a Zealot could unleash vastly exceeded the upper limit of what they could safely control. Consequently, the very first lesson taught to any Templar was to master their own anger, ensuring their emotions never mastered them, and to exercise extreme caution when invoking the power of the Khala, given how perilous those infinite emotions truly were.

As for the higher-tier High Templars, the emotions they commanded were handled with far greater finesse. If a Templar maintained their sanity amidst fury, a High Templar maintained their fury amidst absolute sanity. Almost nothing could shatter the mind of a High Templar, for their psyches had long since been tempered through a thousand trials.

The ascetic path of the Dark Templars, however, differed starkly from that of their Templar brethren. The power of the Void was far more dangerous and terrifying than the Khala, so Dark Templars never risked resonating with it. Yet to attain formidable might, they had to draw close to the Void—though excessively volatile emotions would only drive one further away from it.

Thus, Dark Templars invariably wore stoic expressions, holding their emotions on a tight leash to avoid causing any turbulence within the Void.