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Chapter 8 – Ragnarök

The skies of Asgard trembled once more after a thousand years of silence.

In those moments, when even time recoiled in fear, a darkness lingered around the sacred towers. It was not a void, not a mere absence, but a herald of a slow and inevitable collapse—one that carried its essence from another reality. The lights of Asgard still gleamed like gold, but beneath that glow, a cold shiver echoed.

And before Bifrost could shine, a crack split open in the sky.

The crack opened not with light, but with shadow. Colors faded. Even silence lost its meaning. And then… he came.

V emerged, walking out of the darkness. No portal, no triumphant procession—just soundless steps upon ancient stone. The cloak upon his back seemed woven from shadows; it moved not with the wind, but with his will. Every step he took made the ground remember the seals of the old gods—and fracture. In his eyes burned a rage steeped in loneliness—a claim far beyond rebellion.

Asgard was silent. But its walls, towers, and libraries—all recognized him.

The first to sense his return was Queen Frigga.

She was in the garden, meditating in a quiet temple surrounded by silver charms. But at that moment, she opened her eyes—because a mother’s instinct is stronger than any prophecy.

Then, the grand doors of the throne hall swung open.

Only a handful were gathered in the palace. Thor, Sif, Fandral, and the young guards who had taken Heimdall’s place. They were confused—but when their eyes turned to the figure standing tall before the throne, a fear beyond words crept into their hearts.

Thor stepped forward first. His eyes locked on the shadowed figure.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice firm but cautious.

V gave no reply. Instead, his gaze slowly turned to the throne. It glowed with a dull light—but it was empty.

Until that voice was heard:

“That voice… still echoes through Asgard’s veins.”

The words came from the lips of an old, yet still imposing man. As he entered, the silence deepened. Time itself seemed to halt in reverence to his steps.

Odin.

He wore a black cloak embroidered with silver. Every tap of his staff on the ground stirred the memory of ancient spells. One of his eyes remained empty, but the other—was filled with depth, longing, and regret.

Thor immediately turned to him.

“Father, who… is this?”

Odin remained silent. He looked at V. After a long pause, his lips finally parted.

“Welcome home… my son.”

Chaos erupted in the hall. Thor’s face darkened, Sif’s eyes widened, the guards stepped back.

But the one who trembled the most—was Frigga.

V bowed his head slightly.

“Home?” he said. “Do you remember sealing me away because I was a curse? Do you remember erasing me from an entire people’s memory?”

Thor whispered, “No… this… this is impossible…”

Odin took a step forward.

“You were born of darkness. That’s what the prophecy said. But I loved you… before anything else, I loved you as my son. I did it to protect you.”

V’s eyes glimmered—not with emotion, but with a fury so deep it could shake the sky.

“You call it protection. But I was condemned to solitude. It was you who forgot me. And now—why didn’t you call me back? Why?”

Frigga stepped forward gently.

“Because… there was no light left to bring you back. Every path led into darkness. But I thought of you every night. I kept you in the deepest part of my heart.”

V stepped back, as if afraid to look at her.

“I was a child above all else. And what you gave me… was abandonment.”

Odin approached.

“Enough.”

V turned to him.

“Yes. Enough. Because I will no longer be silent. I stand before a kingdom that forgot me. And I want to show them… what the forgotten has become.”

Thor finally summoned Mjolnir. Lightning cracked. But V only stared. That was all.

“Mjolnir doesn’t even recognize you,” he said in a low voice. “Because it only knew you as a child born into light. I… was born from shadow. And I walked through it.”

At that moment, a rumbling crack shook the palace windows.

Odin drew a talisman from beneath his robes and gently pressed it to the floor.

Suddenly, the palace walls twisted, turned, curled inward.

The Mirror Dimension opened.

Thor, Frigga, and the others were pulled into it like beams of light, carried into another dimension within the folding of reality.

Odin only whispered:

“To fight here would destroy Asgard. But he is still my son. And I must… stop him.”

V did not resist. He stepped into the dimension. The elegant geometric patterns of the Mirror Realm swirled into vast domes. The ground turned into sky. Gravity unraveled. The rules of reality shattered.

But he stood firm—as though even this dimension bowed to the chaos within him.

“How strange,” he murmured. “A prison trapped in beauty. But beauty… was made to break.”

The texture of the Mirror Dimension was as delicate as sacred marble, but beneath it boiled an energy so complex it could challenge even the gods. The floor turned to sky, the horizon bent inward, and infinity collapsed into a circle. Here, reality flowed only where will commanded. And now, two wills would clash.

Thor hesitated for a moment. His eyes saw V not as a monster, but as what might have once been a brother. Yet now, standing in his place was a storm born of ash and shadow.

“Enough!” Thor roared and hurled Mjolnir.

The sky split open.

Lightning encircled V, thunder coiling in madness. But V did not move. The flying hammer, in his eyes, looked like a childish threat. He raised his hand—in slow motion—and caught Mjolnir mid-air.

The tremor ceased. Lightning halted. Light froze.

Thor’s face went pale with a mix of fear and disbelief.

“Impossible…” he whispered.

But the impossible was only beginning.

V looked at the hammer in his hand.

“This… symbol,” he said in a deep, echoing voice.

“A toy of godhood. A caricature of power. Not the will that bends reality… merely a relic inherited from it.”

He clenched his fist.

And Mjolnir, forged from sacred Asgardian metal, hammered from the heart of the sky—shattered.

Its fragments scattered like stardust. Even time held its breath.

Thor fell to his knees. “No… no, this can’t…”

V approached him.

“Your godhood was a gift, Thor. Mine… was carved barehanded into the heart of darkness.”

And then the battle began.

Odin slammed his staff to the ground. Lights descended from the heavens, shattering against the Mirror Dimension’s surface. Spells forged over a hundred thousand years were awakened. The fabric of the dimension trembled. The first shockwave of war cracked the walls of reality.

V surged forward. Each step warped gravity, unraveling the veins of energy. Thor made a final strike with a sword, but V’s dark power bent time itself, flinging him back. Odin fought with sacred spells woven from cosmic energy, turning the air into a glowing poison. Every blow struck with the weight of a planet’s lifespan.

The Mirror Dimension collapsed.

Its boundaries shattered. The battle flowed like a river through broken mirrors—until it spilled back into Asgard. Reality tore. Time fractured. Asgard was pulled into the sky.

The war now raged at the heart of the sacred realm.

Frigga cast protective rings to shield the people. Sif and the guards charged with infinite courage. But V… was on another level now.

He had become a phenomenon—a force that made the universe tremble with every movement. Every strike caused dozens of deaths, unraveled souls. Asgard’s golden towers fell one by one. The stars in the sky went out.

Odin cast one final spell—offering a piece of his own essence. But V, laughing within the darkness, approached.

“Your age will end without a gravestone, Father.”

And with a rising wave of energy from his chest, he destroyed Odin.

Frigga screamed through tears.

“My son! Please… stop…”

But it was too late.

V turned to her. His eyes wavered for a moment—but darkness prevailed.

“Your love couldn’t protect me from death. Now… join it.”

And Frigga fell.

The energies converged. V absorbed the essence, the screams, the memories of every fallen god. Each one added another layer to his being.

Mid-Level of Tier 6.

Peak of Tier 6.

Tier 7.

In Asgard’s place, there was now a massive vortex of energy.

Tier 8.

Tier 9.

The sky fell silent. All light faded.

And V stood alone—within the shadows.