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[POV - Odin] [Meeting Dome - Neutral Territory]
THUMP. THUMP.
My heart — old, tired, but still stubbornly alive — beat twice when I finally looked directly at him.
Yuuki Rito.
Nothing.
I used my vision. The one that cost me an eye. The one that allowed me to see through layers of reality, penetrate veils, glimpse truths that other gods only dreamed of comprehending.
And I saw... nothing.
WHOOSH.
As if there was a hole where he stood. Not a dark void. Not a threatening absence. Just... nothing. As if my eye simply refused to process what was before it.
Impossible.
I didn't become the All-Father just through strength or authority. I conquered my knowledge through sacrifices so profound they shaped the very spirit of Norse mythology.
First, I sought wisdom at Mimir's Well. Mimir, guardian of ancient wisdom, didn't give knowledge for free. To drink from that water which revealed mysteries of past, present, and future, I had to pay a terrible price.
SPLASH.
I let my eye fall into the well. I gave up half my physical vision to achieve much greater spiritual vision.
But that wasn't all.
CREAK... CREAK...
Desiring to understand the secrets of the runes — symbols that contained power, destiny, and magic — I made a second sacrifice even more brutal.
I hung myself on the World Tree. Yggdrasil. Pierced by my own spear. I remained there for nine days and nine nights. Without eating. Without drinking. On the edge of death.
Alone.
At the limit between life and void, I finally had the revelation. The runes appeared as if the universe itself had decided to deliver its secrets.
True knowledge requires renunciation. Pain. Surrender. Transcendence.
And now, after all that...
NOTHING.
I couldn't see the boy.
Ophis? I saw perfectly. That small creature eating cookies in the corner, with infinite power emanating from her like a black sun. Great Red? If he were here, I'd see him too. Dragons were visible. Measurable.
But Rito...
Invisible.
As if he didn't exist. As if my millennial wisdom simply stopped functioning when trying to process him.
In all my vast years of life — millennia upon millennia — this was... surprising.
TAP.
— All-Father — a soft voice came beside me.
I turned. Brynhildr. Leader of the Valkyries. One of my most trusted warriors.
And she was trembling.
TREMBLE... TREMBLE...
— Do you feel it? — she whispered, voice tense as a bowstring about to snap.
— I do — I confirmed.
It wasn't just Rito. It was the entire celestial faction.
HUMMMMM...
A low hum, almost inaudible. As if the air itself vibrated at a frequency that shouldn't exist.
The angels.
Michael, Uriel, Raphael, Gabriel — all the Archangels gathered. Each radiating power that would make stars seem like candles. But it wasn't aggressive. It was... contained. Controlled. Like an ocean held behind a fragile dam.
And the Super Angels...
CRACK.
Brynhildr gripped her sword hilt so hard the leather creaked.
— All-Father — she said, voice barely controlled — those golden wings...
— I see them — I murmured.
Seraphiel. And the other twelve that Rito had created. Standing in perfect formation behind him. Thirteen points of golden light that made even my remaining eye hurt when I looked directly.
— They're stronger than us — Brynhildr admitted, and there was shame in her voice. — Much stronger.
I didn't respond. Because she was right.
WHOMP.
I felt when Göndul — another Valkyrie, one of the eldest and most experienced — approached. Her face was carved with centuries of battle, but now she was pale.
— Odin-sama — she said, formal and controlled despite the tension. — The celestial faction... they're at their peak. Stronger than they've ever been. Stronger than records indicate they ever were.
— Because the Father returned — I said simply.
SILENCE.
The silence that followed was heavy as lead.
All the Norse gods present — and there were several, scattered through the crowd — could feel it. Thor, somewhere in the back, was probably gripping Mjolnir hard enough to crack stone. Freya, goddess of beauty and war, observed with eyes gleaming with a mixture of fascination and caution.
Heaven had recovered its king.
And with him, all the power it had lost in the Great War.
The balance has shifted, I thought grimly.
— What do we do? — Brynhildr asked quietly.
I looked at her. At Göndul. At the other Norse around us.
— Nothing — I said finally. — We observe. We learn. And we hope he continues being... reasonable.
Because if the Creator decided to stop being reasonable?
There would be no Ragnarök.
There would only be the end.
[POV - Lugh] [Same Location - Celtic Perspective]
HUMMM...
I let my power flow. Just a little. Just enough to feel the currents of energy around.
And almost immediately regretted it.
WHOOOOSH.
It was like putting my hand in a river of liquid light. It burned. Not physically. But spiritually. As if my own divinity recognized something... superior.
— Lugh — Morrigan appeared beside me, raven wings moving nervously. — Did you feel it?
— I did — I confirmed, voice more controlled than I felt.
Around us, other members of the Celtic pantheon watched. Dagda, the father-god, as old as Ireland itself. Brigid, goddess of fire and poetry. Nuada, king of the Tuatha Dé Danann.
All in silence.
All feeling what I felt.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
— They're not trying to intimidate us — Morrigan observed. — But...
— But they don't need to — I completed. — Mere presence is intimidation enough.
I looked at the celestial faction. Organized ranks. Angels with white wings shining softly. Archangels like pillars of light. And those thirteen...
The golden ones.
— Super Angels — Dagda murmured, voice deep as a distant earthquake. — I heard stories. Legends. Thought they were exaggerations.
— They're not — I said simply.
Brigid approached, flames dancing softly around her — unconscious manifestation of nervousness.
— And the boy? — she asked. — Yuuki Rito. Is he really...?
— The Creator — I confirmed. — Yahweh. The Presence. Biblical God. Call him what you want. He's real.
CRACK.
The sound of something breaking. Nuada had gripped his silver arm so hard that cracks appeared in the magical metal.
— This changes everything — he said, voice tense. — The entire power balance we maintained for millennia...
— ...is over — Morrigan completed.
I looked at her. At the others. And saw what everyone was thinking.
Fear.
Not the kind of fear you feel before a powerful enemy. But the kind of fear you feel when you realize the rules of the game have completely changed.
During the Great War, when God died, a power vacuum formed. The smaller pantheons — like ours — managed to breathe. Expand. Exist without Heaven's crushing shadow looming over everything.
But now...
WHOMP.
The shadow had returned.
— What do we do? — Brigid asked, looking at me as leader.
I thought for a moment. The weight of the decision pressing on my shoulders.
— We maintain peace — I said finally. — We make friends. We build bridges. Because the alternative...
I didn't need to finish.
Everyone understood.
The alternative was being swept away like dust.
[POV - Yuuki Rito] [Center of the Dome]
STEP. STEP. STEP.
I walked to the center of the dome, aware of every gaze fixed on me.
The four Satans to the left. Sirzechs smiled gently. Serafall waved with barely contained enthusiasm. Ajuka observed with scientific curiosity. Falbium seemed somewhat bored, but attentive.
The Fallen to the right. Azazel with that ironic smile. Baraqiel serious but respectful. The others in military formation.
And my faction behind me. Michael leading the Archangels. Gabriel radiant. The Super Angels in perfect formation.
HUMMM...
The air vibrated with so much concentrated power that normal humans would probably faint just being here.
— Well — Azazel broke the silence, because of course it would be him — how about we start this party?
CHUCKLE.
Some nervous laughter echoed.
Michael stepped forward, voice clear and firm:
— We are here — he said — to formalize the armistice between the three factions. Heaven, Hell, and Fallen. After millennia of conflict, we choose peace.
— And not just that — Sirzechs added — but to extend an invitation to other pantheons. To create an alliance that protects everyone against common threats.
Odin struck Gungnir on the ground.
THUNK.
— The Norse accept — he declared. — Ragnarök approaches. Alone, we will fall. Together... perhaps we'll survive.
Lugh took a step forward.
— The Celts as well — he said. — Under one condition: that we be treated as equals, not subordinates.
— Of course — Michael agreed immediately. — This is an alliance, not submission.
MURMUR... MURMUR...
Other gods murmured among themselves. Evaluating. Calculating. Deciding.
Yasaka, leader of the Yokai, bowed her head gracefully.
— Kyoto joins — she said, nine tails undulating. — For the Yokai and for peace.
One by one, the leaders accepted.
And I just observed.
Because that's what they needed. Not my interference. Not my crushing authority.
But space to make the right choices themselves.
WHOOSH.
Gabriel appeared at my side, whispering:
— You're proud of them.
It wasn't a question.
— I am — I admitted quietly. — They're growing. Learning. Choosing peace instead of war.
— Even knowing war is coming — she added.
— Especially because of that.
THUMP.
My heart beat hard.
Because somewhere, in the shadows between dimensions, I felt Vali watching.
And beyond him...
Something else.
Something dark.
Something waiting for the perfect moment to attack.
Soon, I thought.
Very soon.
The storm will arrive.
But for now?
For now, there was peace.
And I was going to savor every second of it.
Because I knew — better than anyone — how fragile and precious peace truly was.
CLINK.
Glasses were raised.
A toast.
To peace.
To the alliance.
To the uncertain future that awaited us all.
Cheers.