Chapter 369: I Am a Nice Goddess

The Arena had never felt so small.

Tens of thousands of gods pressed forward in their seats, their breaths stolen, their divinity trembling in the air like taut strings ready to snap. The sight of Vili, swollen and dripping with Morgana’s seed, his once-proud war body hanging limp in her full-nelson grip, was an image none of them could erase—even if they wanted to.

Morgana finally let him drop.

His body hit the blood-stained stones with a wet THUD, cum spilling from his ruined ass in thick white rivers. The God of War—once the embodiment of rage and victory—lay twitching, his beard matted with ichor and shame, his belly grotesquely round like a mocked parody of fertility.

Morgana’s grin widened, fangs flashing as she planted a boot on his back and raised her arms high.

“BEHOLD!” she cried, her voice ringing across the coliseum, carried by her crimson aura until it shook the pillars themselves. “THE FATE OF ANY WHO DARES TO TRY TO TAKE MY DAUGHTER FROM ME.”

The crowd exploded.

Some screamed in fury. Some laughed like jackals. Some—twisted little gods who never dared voice their fetishes—moaned as they reached down to pleasure themselves out in the open. But all of them had their eyes locked on Morgana. The goddess of sex who had just conquered—literally—a Norse war-god before their eyes.

Her gaze slid to Odin.

The All-Father had risen from his throne, veins bulging across his temple, his single eye alight with the wrath of a storm. His grip on Gungnir was so tight that the runes along the spear hissed, glowing with searing white power.

“YOU BITCH!” he roared, his voice booming like thunder, the runes in the coliseum walls pulsing under his fury. “YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS!”

Odin’s aura simply detonated.

The sheer force of it cracked the marble seats, making lesser gods clutch at their chests as if their hearts were about to rupture. The weight of his fury bore down on the Arena like a storm of iron, like the sound of a thousand war horns shattering the sky. Gungnir’s runes screamed, arcs of lightning splitting the air, scorching the divine chains that barely held his wrath in check.

But Morgana didn’t flinch.

She stood there, drenched in Vili’s ichor and her own seed, her silver hair cascading wild and feral around her face, her crimson eyes gleaming like blood-soaked suns.

FUSHHH!

Odin raised his spear, ready to launch a divine attack. But before he could do anything, hundreds of divine auras slammed into him; gods matching or surpassing him in rank were stopping him from launching his attack.

The other gods didn’t do it because they took a liking to Morgana or anything, no. The Nexus rules forbid attacking anyone, especially inside the arena.

“LET ME GO!” Odin growled.

“You are not allowed to attack any combatant outside the trial, All-Father.” A high-ranking god spoke, a faint greenish aura surrounding him. “That is the law; everyone must obey the laws.”

“YOU FUCKING COWARDS!!” He screamed, his single blue eye scanning the gods surrounding him. His fury was immense. The only reason he didn’t go berserk was because of his wisdom and pride.

Wrong—that’s what he thinks. The golden herald can simply one-shot him if he dared to break the Nexus’ laws.

“Fucking bastards,” he mumbled, taking his seat again, his one eye fixated on Morgana and her smirk.

“HAHAH.” Morgana’s laughter broke the tension, then she yanked Vili’s head back with her hand, before calling her golden talon.

The Claw of the Unmaking.

“!!!”

The moment the claw materialized in her left arm, all gods flinched. All their instincts were screaming. That claw was not a normal divine artifact; that thing was something beyond dangerous.

“Now let’s end the show.” Morgana’s crimson eyes gleamed as she placed the clawed fingers around Vili’s throat. Just one slice and Vili would be dead for good.

“STOP!” Odin, at this point, was screaming for real; he was desperate. Vili was important for his plans.

It’s no secret that even inside his own pantheon, Odin was not loved. And if not for his power and cunning, other gods would have rebelled and tried to take his throne.

And losing Vili would make him much weaker. The god of war was deeply loyal to him, and Odin wanted to nurture him into the next high-ranking god of war. Since the current one… let’s just say he’s unpleasant with some of Odin’s decisions.

But now his plans were ruined. Morgana didn’t just defeat Vili; she humiliated him. She made him cry like a bitch, begging her to fuck him. That was a massive blow to Odin’s reputation. And it would leave a trauma for the war god.

‘I could wipe his memories and hide his face behind that cursed mask,’ Odin thought, his mind racing with possibilities.

“What? You want him to live?” Morgana smiled.

“YES.” Odin gritted his teeth. “Name your price.”

“Oh.” Morgana blinked, a wide smile spreading on her lips, her claw digging into Vili’s throat, golden ichor flowing. “Now that I think about it, we didn’t discuss what I would get from you if I won this fight, right?”

“…”

The Arena fell into a suffocating silence.

Every god leaned forward, eyes wide, breaths caught. Morgana’s golden talon pressed against Vili’s throat, the tips of her claws drawing rivulets of ichor that hissed and evaporated against her aura. The Claw of the Unmaking pulsed hungrily, ready to carve through flesh, divinity, and concept alike.

One movement, and the God of War would be erased.

“Name your price,” Odin growled again, his voice strained with the weight of swallowing his rage. His single eye blazed with hate, but there was something else behind it now. Desperation.

The gods in the crowd whispered in disbelief.

“Odin… begging?”

“Never thought I’d see the day…”

“She’s turned the tables completely…”

“Hehehe.” Morgana tilted her head, silver hair falling like a curtain as her smirk widened into something wolfish.

“Begging already, One-Eye? Tsk, tsk. How quickly the proud fall when their toys are broken.” She tightened her grip, the talon digging deeper until Vili let out a strangled whimper, his swollen body twitching pathetically beneath her boot.

“Stop this mockery,” Odin snarled, every rune on Gungnir flaring. “Speak your terms!”

“Oh, I will,” Morgana purred. She lowered herself until her lips brushed against Vili’s ear, her voice carrying loud enough for the Arena to hear. “You hear that, Viking? Your master wants to save you. Isn’t that sweet? Such loyalty. Such desperation. Almost makes me want to keep you around… as my little pet.”

“!!!” Vili whimpered, his tear-streaked face buried in shame.

Morgana rose, dragging her tongue across his chin as she turned her gaze back to Odin. Her crimson eyes burned like fire.

“My price…” she said, her voice echoing with terrible clarity, “… is nothing.”

“Eh?”

The word rolled from her tongue like venom, and for a moment, the entire Arena froze.

Every god expected her to demand something outrageous: land, armies, slaves, worshippers, relics, even Odin’s throne itself. But nothing?

“She… doesn’t want anything? But then, why did she start this?”

“Maybe she’s doing it for her daughter?”

“Why would a mother humiliate a god in front of her daughter?”

“Maybe the daughter is a pervert and asked her to do that.”

“Nah, that’s impossi—”

“Do not mock me, whore.” Odin growled, his rage rising. His aura lashed out again, cracking more of the marble seats, but Morgana simply smiled. “You toy with words while your claw rests on my god’s neck. Say your price or end this.”

“Oh, Odin… but don’t you see?” Her voice purred, rich and cruel, echoing through every corner of the coliseum. “I don’t need anything from you. There is nothing in your vaults or temples that interests me. I already have everything I desire.”

In truth, Morgana was half-lying, there were a lot of things she would like to have from the Norse Pantheon, mainly pussies and cocks, but at the same time, humiliating Odin and his war god was the biggest reward.

Odin’s knuckles whitened on Gungnir. The All-Father, who had never bent, who had never begged, who had fought his way to the top with nothing but his own will and cunning—was being played by a bronze-rank goddess of sex.

His expression became a mask of pure hate, his single eye burning, the veins on his temple bulging. And yet, even now, he knew he was trapped. He couldn’t kill Morgana. Not while she held his war-god hostage. And definitely not while she’s inside the Nexus.

‘I’ll find her world and fucking rip her apart,’ he swore inwardly, his mind racing with possibilities.

“You think I’m a fool, Odin?” Morgana purred, her voice weaving through the Arena like silk and venom. “You think I hunger for your scraps? Your broken pantheon? Your fading throne? No. I want nothing from you.”

At Morgana’s command, Herma searched the Nexus’s web and found all the info related to the Norse gods, so what she said was not entirely a bluff, but not entirely true.

SMACK!

“I already took everything worth taking.” She leaned down, smacking Vili’s ass with her palm. A cruel, obscenely loud slap, leaving a red print on his flesh. “For a god of war, his anus was very soft… Aaah, I figured it out. You wanted to make him into your personal bitch, am I right, All-Father? That’s why he’s so used to the cock.”

“BWAHAHAHA.”

The crowd erupted into chaos. Laughter, groans of arousal, gasps of shock—it all blended into a cacophony of madness. The gods were drunk on the spectacle, on Morgana’s audacity, on Odin’s shame.

“!!!” Odin’s blue eye widened in horror. “Silence your filth—”

But Morgana talked over him, her voice honeyed and cruel.

“Don’t bother denying it. Look at him.” She yanked Vili’s head up again, forcing the beaten god to stare blankly at the crowd with tear-glossed eyes, his lips trembling, his body leaking. “This isn’t the first time he’s bent over for a cock, is it, Odin? But you didn’t train his ass well. I guess your cock is so small.”

The Arena howled.

Thousands of voices—laughter, jeers, moans—rolled like a storm crashing against the divine marble. Even the high-ranking gods who had restrained Odin could not hide their smirks now. The sight of the All-Father, crimson with fury, while his war-god lay spread and ruined at Morgana’s feet, was too delicious for any of them to ignore.

“Oh, on second thought, I do want something as a reward, but not from you.” Morgana smiled, shifting her focus from Odin to Vili. She then flipped him on his back, spreading his legs, exposing his hard, leaking dick, before placing the clawed finger around his shaft.

“!!!” Vili was trembling. His eyes were blank, his mind broken, the last shred of his will destroyed. He was now Morgana’s toy.

“Don’t worry, One-Eye.” She winked, the golden claw slowly sinking into his penis. “I’ll help you with his training.”

“NOOO!”

With a flick of her wrist, the Claw of the Unmaking tore.

“AHHHHHH!”

Vili’s scream shook the arena.

It was a scream without meaning. An inhuman sound that could split a mortal sky, a raw cry of agony. A broken wail of a man whose pride, body, and purpose had been ripped apart in front of all creation.

“See, I am a nice goddess.” Morgana stood up, flashing the severed cock to the Norse god-king. “He’s no longer a man.”

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