The rainbow descended.
Seven radiant colors struck the ground before the store, and a complex Asgardian rune bloomed across the doorway like a seal.
Thor emerged first.
Behind him stood a squad of Asgardian warriors clad in golden armor, weapons gleaming with restrained divinity.
Thor wore his great red cloak, Mjölnir resting comfortably in his grip.
His smile was broad and sincere as he looked toward Garfield and the gathered figures at the door.
"My brother." Thor said warmly, voice ringing with joy, "I have come to bring you home."
Garfield nodded calmly. "Mm. Let's go."
Thor glanced at the others, Garfield's family and attendants, and gestured generously.
"Then let us all depart together."
Garfield shook his head. "They're staying. Someone has to watch the shop."
He paused, then added, "And Lilith and Vivienne aren't suitable for Asgard."
Thor blinked.
Only then did he remember. Demons.
Asgard, as a realm of the Light Protos, naturally radiated divine light at all times. For lower-ranking demons, simply existing there would be torture, if not outright fatal.
"I see," Thor said, nodding. "My mistake."
He straightened, excitement quickly returning. "Everything is ready."
"Father has prepared the grandest welcome ceremony in centuries. Elves and dwarves have already arrived."
As Thor enthusiastically listed the guests, Garfield's expression remained composed, but inwardly, he understood the implication.
This was not a private affair.
This ceremony would be witnessed by multiple major races across the Nine Realms.
If Garfield ever acted against Asgard's interests, he would not merely be criticized… he would be condemned universally.
Worse still, it would inevitably affect Kamar-Taj as well.
Odin Odinson… truly an old fox.
To be feared was one thing. To be watched was another.
✦••┈┈••✦••┈┈••✦
The great celebration hall of Asgard was filled to capacity.
Golden-armored warriors lined the aisles. Nobles and emissaries from allied realms gathered in clusters, their presence heavy with meaning.
Among them, the most striking were the dwarves.
Towering figures, most exceeding three meters in height, their bodies dense with power and forged resilience. They stood like living anvils among gods.
Nidavellir, the star-ring forge, was their homeland. Garfield knew well that the dwarves were far more than the simplified versions depicted in mortal stories.
They were called "dwarves" only in comparison.
In ancient times, they had been measured against giants.
According to Norse myth, Odin slew the progenitor of the ancient giants. From the giant's corpse, maggots were born.
Those that evolved under divine guidance became elves, bright and fair. Those twisted by corruption became dwarves… unyielding and enduring.
History, like truth, depended on perspective.
Seated upon the throne, Odin watched the hall with measured calm.
The reason he had invited so many factions was precisely what Garfield suspected.
He hoped that, when Asgard stood at a crossroads, Garfield would extend a helping hand, rather than exploiting weakness or standing aside.
Frigga leaned toward him gently. "My husband… I am still worried about Hela."
Odin's gaze softened, just slightly.
"Perhaps this time." He said quietly, "Things will truly change."
Frigga sighed. "Fate appears malleable, yet remains elusive. It takes countless coincidences… and sacrifice… to alter it."
"Yes." Odin nodded. "And this time, it all hinges on that orange cat."
Frigga smiled faintly. "The preparations are nearly complete. Should Thor and Loki bring him back today?"
Odin considered briefly. "Yes. Thor's presence puts me at ease."
"And Loki?"
Odin sighed, weariness seeping through. "I hope… that one day, he will understand."
"It isn't fair to him." Frigga said softly.
"No." Odin admitted. "But I still hope he will understand."
Loki did not understand.
He stood at the edge of the hall, watching the extravagant preparations with clenched fists.
Such a ceremony, this scale, this reverence he had not seen in a thousand years.
And it was not for him. Nor for Thor.
But for an orange cat.
What was Garfield, truly?
To Loki, the answer was simple. An obstacle.
That damned cat had already been placed squarely in the path toward the throne he desired.
Stinking cat, Loki thought coldly. Do not think I will allow you to block my ascent.
His ambition did not waver.
His footsteps toward the throne would not stop, no matter who stood in his way.
…
The Bifrost descended once more.
Garfield, Thor, and the accompanying Asgardian warriors vanished from the street the moment the Rainbow Bridge withdrew.
They all knew the procedure.
Where the Bifrost landed, a residual magic circle would remain, an unmistakable Asgardian signature. Garfield had anticipated this long ago.
Before anyone could ask questions, he calmly instructed Queenie to scrape away the remaining traces, seal them, and dump everything into the open training space in the basement for later disposal.
As for the damaged pavement?
Kumatarō and Kumajirō were summoned without hesitation. A brief application of ninjutsu later, the street was restored as if nothing had happened.
No loose ends.
Within the Bifrost itself, Garfield stared at the flowing seven-colored light with restrained curiosity.
He did not reach out to touch it.
He was not stupid.
Scratching around inside a spatial teleportation conduit was a very good way to end up lost somewhere in the universe, or worse… split across dimensions.
This era was already chaotic enough.
The purple sweet potato was still running rampant across the cosmos. The Kree and the Skrulls were locked in endless war.
The Nova Corps' combat effectiveness was… questionable at best.
The universe was a mess.
As a weak, pitiful, and helpless orange cat, Garfield felt it was wiser not to wander off-world unnecessarily.
Besides, Earth food was still vastly superior. He missed it already.
The Bifrost control room came into view.
Garfield stepped out and immediately saw Heimdall standing guard.
In comic books and myths, Heimdall was the most handsome man in the Nine Realms.
Here, he had successfully evolved into a towering, dark-skinned guardian with a presence that crushed silence into the floor.
Garfield briefly recalled that after Asgard's destruction, Heimdall would later get a job driving ships for the family next door, before being beaten by two bald beasts and falling into the sea, completing his transition into true Heimdall.
While Garfield was evaluating Heimdall, Heimdall was also studying Garfield.
Those golden eyes, capable of seeing across worlds, locked onto the orange cat.
And frowned.
Strange.
No matter how hard Heimdall focused, all he could perceive was… an orange cat.
No hidden divinity or visible fate threads.
Garfield's soul was completely shrouded, wrapped in a fog that even Heimdall's all-seeing gaze could not penetrate.
A blessing?
Or a curse?
For the first time, Heimdall felt uncertainty regarding one of Odin's decisions. The future around this orange cat was… unclear.
Thor clapped Garfield on the back, snapping Heimdall from his thoughts.
"Come, brother!"
Under Thor's guidance, Garfield boarded the Asgardian transport and flew toward the grand celebration hall.
At the entrance, rows of golden-armored warriors stood at attention, faces expressionless, posture flawless.
Their eyes followed Garfield's arrival with disciplined curiosity.
The ship landed.
Garfield disembarked and looked up.
The hall towered nearly ten meters high, vast and imposing. Then he looked down at himself.
A small orange kitten.
A terrible mismatch.
If he walked in on all fours, padding across the hall like a housecat, wouldn't that be… awkward?
But flying in?
That felt arrogant.
Standing frozen in place, Garfield hesitated.
Thor noticed.
He crouched beside him and asked gently, "Brother, are you nervous?"
Garfield pointed toward the hall.
"Thor, be honest. If I walk in like this, won't everyone just think I'm a pet?"
"The third prince of Asgard… a frail orange cat. That isn't majestic." He sighed.
Thor's eyes widened. He immediately swung Mjölnir.
"Whoever dares say that about my brother." Thor declared loudly, "I will personally educate them on the weight of Mjölnir!"
Garfield nodded, satisfied. "Good brother. Then how do I enter properly?"
Thor didn't even think for a second. He pointed to his shoulder.
"How about I carry you?"
"…That works." Garfield levitated lightly and settled onto Thor's shoulder, squatting comfortably.
Thor straightened.
Garfield's field of vision expanded instantly.
Thor strode forward with pride, a god among gods, leading a formation of golden-armored warriors, carrying an orange cat into the heart of Asgard.
꧁𓊈𒆜༺⚜༻𒆜𓊉꧂
PhantomDream