I Was Reborn in Another World, But I Awoke Inside a Corpse

Chapter 128: The Weight of Judgment

The Council Hall was quiet, emptied of its usual spectators. Only a few lingered—Sylvalen, Lira, Aelira, and Brynhildr, who stood before the thrones like a sentinel of silver flame.

Her armor shimmered faintly with divine resonance, and her wings were folded at her back. Still. Watching. Waiting.

Isaac stepped forward.

"I'll face him," he said.

Brynhildr's head tilted slightly. "Beelzebub?"

"Yes."

A pause.

Aelira looked up sharply. Sylvalen's eyes widened.

Even Lira blinked. "You're not even going to pretend to hesitate?"

Isaac shook his head. "No point. If we wait, the World Tree dies. And the longer we delay, the more he feeds. I've fought worse."

Brynhildr studied him silently. Her voice, when it came, was low and even.

"Do you know what you're offering?"

"I do."

"Beelzebub is no ordinary demon. His essence corrodes the spirit and warps time. His hunger eats identity. Even Freya would not challenge him alone without reason."

Isaac met her gaze without blinking.

"I'm not alone."

For a moment, silence again.

Then, Brynhildr nodded once.

"Then prove it."

She stepped forward, and the divine circle at the center of the hall began to glow—pulsing with celestial script and ancient oaths. A practice arena, etched by gods themselves, formed around them. The barriers shimmered, isolating their presence from the rest of the chamber.

Brynhildr summoned her spear from thin air. It gleamed like a shard of dawn forged into a weapon.

Isaac remained still.

"You may draw your weapon," she said.

"I don't need to."

She frowned slightly. "Then show me."

Isaac's eyes flashed.

"[Soulpiercer Sight – Rank A]."

The world shifted.

A window opened in his vision, detailing Brynhildr's status—and Isaac's eyes flicked across the values.

Strength: 2,180Agility: 2,490Endurance: 2,230Intelligence: 2,050Willpower: 2,350Charisma: 2,000

'As expected,' he thought. 'A divine-level warrior. Stronger than any mortal I've seen so far.'

And yet—

He moved.

Not with fury.

Not with magic.

Just presence.

In a blur of speed that even Brynhildr barely tracked, Isaac appeared in front of her.

He didn't strike with a blade.

He tapped her wrist—barely a push.

But it was enough.

The Valkyrie's grip shattered.

Her spear clattered to the floor.

Before she could react, he was behind her, two fingers resting lightly against the back of her neck.

Her breath caught.

The barrier flickered—and faded.

Everyone stared.

Brynhildr turned slowly, eyes wide—not with offense, but with realization.

She touched her neck, her hand trembling slightly. Not from fear. From awe.

"…That was not strength born of the body," she said quietly. "That was control."

Isaac stepped back.

"I told you I've fought worse."

Brynhildr looked at him—truly looked at him—for the first time not as a mortal, or even an anomaly.

But as something that stood on the edge of divine.

"…I believe you," she said at last.

Later, in the quiet of the Council sanctum, she approached him privately.

"You concealed your full power."

Isaac shrugged. "Would you have trusted me if I hadn't?"

"No," she admitted. "But now I trust you enough to say this."

She placed her hand over her chest—a formal gesture of oath.

"You will not face Beelzebub alone. I will guide you to the Abyssal gate beneath Yggdrasil. And if needed… I will follow you into the dark."

Isaac nodded once.

Then, quietly, he smiled.