Back on Earth, Leo headed straight for an internet cafe. His first order of business was to research his chosen weapons.
The Spear of Longinus: the holy lance that pierced the side of the Son of God. It was said to grant its wielder invincibility but carried a curse: lose the spear, and you die instantly. A double-edged sword.
Fragarach, the "Answerer" or "Retaliator": a sword of the Tuatha Dé Danann. It could cut through any armor, and its wounds could not be healed. Powerful, but required close-quarters combat, not his strong suit.
Gungnir, the "Swaying One": the spear of Odin, crafted from a branch of the world-tree Yggdrasil. It was inscribed with powerful runes and, when thrown, would never miss its mark. It also enforced any oath sworn upon it. This was the one.
He nodded to himself. He would take all three.
Leaving the cafe, he found a secluded alley, ensured there were no cameras, and transformed into a streak of light, rocketing out of Japan and across the ocean. He stopped high above the frigid waters of the North Sea. He took out the Yata Mirror and created a duplicate of himself. Then, he commanded the duplicate to transform.
He considered the form of a giant wolf, but discarded it. He needed something more… biblical. More awe-inspiring. He settled on a serpent.
The duplicate plunged into the sea, its form swelling to a monstrous size. Its new, immense body and the pressure of its demigod essence sent the marine life fleeing in terror.
"Let the performance of Jörmungandr, the World Serpent, begin," Leo announced to the empty sky.
On the deck of the Yggdrasil, a massive factory trawler jointly operated by Japanese and Nordic fishing conglomerates, a Japanese sailor named Teru Yoshii was performing a small ritual. He placed a miniature torii gate on the deck and poured a ladle of fresh water into the sea as an offering.
"What are you doing, Teru?" asked a burly black sailor named Sam.
"He's praying," a white sailor named Finn chimed in with a laugh. "Like we do at mass."
"Praying? I thought you weren't religious, Teru."
"That was before," Finn said, nudging Sam. "Haven't you heard? Their gods are real now. Showed up and did miracles. The whole country's gone god-crazy."
"No way. There's no such thing as God," Sam scoffed.
"That's what I thought," Finn said. "But everyone who comes back from Japan says it's like a different country now, like the Vatican. Shrines everywhere, people praying in the streets."
Teru's face darkened. Before the miracles in Kyoto and Nara, he would have agreed with them. His trips to the shrine were for luck, not out of faith. But now, he was a believer. And their mockery was blasphemy. He glanced at Sam's muscular frame and recalled Finn's reputation as a brawler. He held his tongue.
The great Ame-no-Minakanushi would punish these heathens. He didn't need to lift a finger.
The men continued their banter, oblivious. But another sailor shouted from the bridge, his voice sharp with alarm. "Hey, guys! Does something feel... wrong to you?"
"Wrong? Sky is blue, sea is calm," Sam said with a shrug.
"It's too quiet," Teru said, his anger momentarily forgotten. He pointed at the water. "This is the North Sea, one of the richest fishing grounds in the world. Look at the surface. Where are the fish?"
The other two fell silent, a sudden chill running down their spines. It was true. The sea was unnaturally still, like a dead thing.
Suddenly, another sailor shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at the water below. "L-look! Down there! There's something in the water!"