CHAPTER 33: CHAPTER 33 - THE TRUTH [LL]

"Odin was missing? What does that mean?" Mikail asked, his voice edged with disbelief.

Baldur didn’t answer right away.

For the first time, the calm mask he always wore cracked. His expression shifted, just slightly, but enough for Mikail to notice. The ageless eyes that had once seemed unshakable now shimmered with something colder, something deeper.

It wasn’t fear. It was uncertainty.

"...It means," He finally said, voice low and deliberate, "that the one who binds the Realms together... The one who was the axis of order, and prophecy... Simply vanished"

He looked to the horizon again, where the sky shifted in uneasy colors.

"One day he was there, and the next, gone. Even the Norns, who see all threads, cannot find his strand anymore as if he is not in this universe anymore"

A long silence stretched between them.

He looked back at Mikail, his voice now darker. He wasn’t just explaining, he was warning.

"... That’s when things began to unravel. The Vanir started whispering of rebellion. The giants stirred in Jötunheim. And the Shadows... They grew bolder, clawing their way into places they never dared touch before"

Baldur stepped closer, his presence suddenly heavier, like a storm pressing down on the air. The faint glint of divine light in his eyes had dimmed, replaced by a shadow of unease.

"Odin’s disappearance wasn’t an accident," he said, his voice low and deliberate. "It was a move. A declaration in a game that none of us remember starting. And now, Midgard... Midgard is beyond our reach"

The silence that followed was thick, almost oppressive. Mikail stood still, his mind racing as he tried to digest the weight of Baldur’s words. The air felt colder now as if the world itself was reacting to the truth being spoken.

"But..." Mikail finally said, his voice uncertain, "Why now? Why wait this long? Isn’t it already too late? The Shadows... They’ve already made the real world like their own"

His words hung in the air, trembling with a mix of fear and frustration.

Baldur stepped closer, his voice softer now, but heavy with something unspoken.

"My son... You’re not the first. There were many before you, each brave, each touched by fate. But..." He paused, his gaze lingering on Mikail with a quiet weight. "It’s only you who made it this far. That’s why I decided to meet you"

There was no pride in his voice. No warmth. Only a quiet acknowledgment, like a god admitting that even destiny sometimes chooses differently than expected.

"... They what did you expect me to do?"

Baldur exhaled slowly as if letting go of a burden he’d carried far too long. He turned his gaze back to the horizon, where the sky rippled like a wound refusing to close.

"I expected you to die," he said flatly.

The words struck Mikail like a blow, sharp, cold, and unflinching. There was no hesitation in Baldur’s voice, no softness. Just brutal honesty, delivered like a verdict.

"I expected the Shadows to consume you like the others. To break you. To twist you. Fate has not been kind to those marked by prophecy..." He took a slow step forward, his voice dropping into something more solemn. "Or by Odin’s blood"

Mikail’s breath caught. His legs stiffened, and he instinctively took a step back, as if distance could shield him from the truth pressing down on his chest like a stone.

"Then... Why save me? Why meet me now?" He asked, his voice hoarse with confusion and rising pain.

Baldur’s gaze returned to him, piercing, ancient, and immovable. Like the gaze of a god who had seen too much and trusted too little. His eyes were steel-sharpened over centuries, and when they locked onto Mikail, it felt like they could carve through time itself.

"Because you didn’t die. Because something... Someone is guiding you beyond the weave I once trusted. And because even I no longer know what’s coming... And that changes everything," He paused, then added quietly, "The game has changed. The board is unfamiliar. And pieces we thought were removed... Are moving again"

A breeze stirred around them, unnaturally cold. A whisper on the wind, too faint to understand, yet unmistakably watching.

"And if Odin isn’t dead..." Mikail said slowly, piecing it together, "Then he’s hiding. Or worse... Planning?"

Baldur’s expression darkened like thunderclouds rolling in.

"Exactly"

Then, silence. Not just the absence of sound, but the kind of silence that precedes collapse.

"...Then what now?" Mikail asked, his voice steady despite everything. "What am I supposed to do?"

Baldur stepped forward once more, and this time, there was resolve in his gaze.

"Now, you walk the path Odin once carved in secret. Through shadow. Through blood. Through truths even the gods buried"

He touched Mikail’s chest, not hard, just enough to feel the quiet spark that lived within.

"And if you make it through..." Baldur’s voice was barely above a whisper now, yet it carried the force of prophecy. "Maybe this time, the end won’t be Ragnarok"

He placed a hand on Mikail’s shoulder, not as a god, but as a family.

"My son... Mikail. Midgard is in your hands now. Find the others, the Harbingers. Gather them. Earn their trust. Because of this burden... It’s too great for one soul to carry alone"

A silence followed, vast and sacred. In that moment, it wasn’t just the fate of gods or mortals that trembled, but the world itself.

--------

Mikail’s consciousness faded again.

There was no pain. Just a sensation of being pulled, not by force, but by purpose. Something or someone was guiding him. And then, light. Blinding and soft, like the sun through a curtain. It flooded his senses.

Then.

Air.

Sound.

Life.

His eyes snapped open.

A familiar ceiling stared back at him, its quiet stillness grounding him in a reality that felt distant just moments ago. The soft weight of a blanket wrapped around his body, its warmth seeping into his bones like a silent reassurance.

The faint scent of tea drifted into his nose, earthy, comforting. Then came a sound, gentle but clear. A voice. Low, steady, and unmistakably familiar. The kind of voice that didn’t just speak, it healed. A voice that stitched broken pieces back together, one word at a time.

"... Ughh"

The groan slipped from his lips before he even realized he was awake. His throat was dry, his body heavy, like he’d been asleep for days or years. His hand instinctively reached for his forehead, brushing against a sheen of cold sweat.

The scent of tea grew stronger. Warm. Inviting.

"Kail," The voice came again. Not loud. Not urgent. But steady, like a hand gently catching you before you fall. "You’re awake"

He turned his head slowly toward the sound.

A woman sat quietly beside the bed, a porcelain teacup cradled in her hands. Her natural silver hair was tied in a loose braid draped over one shoulder, and the soft lines on her face spoke of years lived with quiet strength and enduring wisdom. Her presence alone felt like home, steady, unwavering.

"...Grandma, why-"

"!!!"

Mikail’s eyes snapped wide open. Panic surged through him like a jolt of lightning. He threw the blanket aside, the warmth forgotten, and leaped to his feet.

"G-Grandma! Where’s Moona?! What about Melisa?!" He demanded, voice rising, desperation cracking through every word like a dam ready to burst.

Before his grandmother could respond, a voice came from the doorway, soft, steady, and unmistakably familiar.

"We’re here, Mikail"

He turned sharply.

There, standing just beyond the threshold, were Melisa and Moona. Tired, a little worn, but alive.

The weight in his chest loosened all at once, leaving behind something raw, something close to tears.

"Thank goodness... I thought-" He couldn’t finish. The words caught in his throat, tangled in the knot of fear and relief still clawing at his chest.

Melisa stepped forward, her voice gentle but firm.

"We’re okay, Mikail. Thanks to you... You fought tooth and nail to protect us." She gave a small glance toward Grandma, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. "And thanks to a certain someone, we managed to get out of the Zone safely"

Moona nodded, her voice softer, almost shy.

"Yeah... Just like Melisa said. We’re all safe... because of you, Mikail. Thank you"

A faint blush dusted her cheeks as she looked at him, eyes warm, lingering just a moment too long.

"No, I just did what I ca-wait!" Mikail’s eyes widened as the memory surfaced like a flicker of light in the dark. "I remember someone... Someone was there, right before I lost consciousness. A woman. Do you guys know who she is?"

At his question, both Melisa and Moona exchanged a glance. Their eyes, uncertain for a heartbeat, slowly drifted toward Grandma.

Not a word was spoken, but the air shifted, quiet, dense with unspoken meaning.

Mikail noticed the change instantly and turned his gaze to his grandmother.

She set her teacup down with careful grace, her expression unreadable.

"Kail," She said softly, her voice like a ripple across still water. "There’s something you need to know"

....

...

..

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