CHAPTER 285: CHAPTER 43

Nordic Universe.

The sky above the Nine Realms shimmered as a rift tore through the layers of space, rippling like a wound in the firmament.

From that radiant breach stepped Lugh, the God of the Sun, the King of the Celts, and the proud King of the Tuatha Dé Danann.

His eyes, bright like burning dawns, swept over the vast expanse beneath him.

But what he saw made his heart tighten.

The Nine Realms, once vast and alive, brimming with divine light, proud cities, and lush lands that rivaled even the Celtic Isles, were now but a pale shadow of their former glory.

Worlds that once pulsed with divine life now floated as broken husks in the endless void.

Fragments of shattered realms drifted like corpses of forgotten stars, each one faintly glowing with the remnants of ancient magic.

Only two realms still stood firm amid the devastation, Asgard, the once-proud kingdom of gods, now scarred and bound by endless runes of repair, and Helheim, the realm of the dead, eerily stable under the control of the pale queen who ruled it with calm indifference.

The rest, Midgard, Alfheim, Vanaheim, Jotunheim, Svartalfheim, Nidavellir, and Muspelheim, were gone or in various stages of painful reconstruction.

From where he stood, Lugh could see floating fragments of their former lands, rune circles glimmering faintly as divine builders and dwarves worked tirelessly to stitch existence back together.

Lugh’s fist trembled faintly as he exhaled, his expression darkening.

"...So this is what’s become of the Norse," he muttered to himself, voice laced with restrained fury and disbelief.

He remembered the last time he visited this place. The World Tree, Yggdrasil, had shone like an emerald sun, its branches stretching into the heavens, connecting all realms with divine harmony.

Now, it looked weary, its once vibrant leaves dulled, bark blackened in patches, faintly weeping sap that shimmered like dying starlight.

Just then, the space beside him rippled again, and another portal tore open, its golden radiance cutting through the void.

From it stepped a man clothed in resplendent robes of pure gold, intricate hieroglyphs glowing faintly along the edges.

His aura was sharp, refined, almost surgical, as if he was wisdom and precision incarnate.

He wore a golden ibis mask that covered the upper half of his face, but even through it, his divine presence could be felt.

The man glanced at Lugh, then gracefully lifted the mask, revealing a handsome face with silver-gray hair, sharp features, and piercing gray eyes that seemed to measure everything at once.

The newcomer bowed slightly, his voice calm and articulate.

"Tuatha De Lugh. It is an honor," he said. "I am Thoth, scribe of Ra, voice of wisdom and judgment of the Egyptian gods."

Lugh offered him a nod. It was curt, polite, but distant, after all he wasn’t in the mood for courtesies.

"So why did the Egyptians sent you?" he said coldly. "Does Ra plan to profit from this predicament?"

Thoth smiled faintly, not taking offense.

But before he could respond, the void shuddered again, the space rippled, and another portal opened.

This time, soft white light spilled out as a man stepped through, wearing a flowing robe of pristine white that seemed to glow faintly with divine warmth.

His hair was long and pure silver-white, his demeanor calm and humble despite the quiet power radiating from him.

He looked around, taking in the broken fragments of the realms, and sighed, his tone soft but filled with genuine melancholy.

"So... this is what remains of the Norse?" he said quietly, almost to himself.

Then, noticing the two others, he smiled and gave a respectful bow. "Greetings, I am Nuska, attendant and divine aide of Lord Enlil, of the Mesopotamian Pantheon. It is a pleasure to meet you both."

Thoth inclined his head in polite acknowledgment while Lugh simply gave a grunt.

Three gods, from different three universes, standing over the ruins of a fourth.

Before more could be said, the heavens trembled.

A pulse of golden energy erupted from Asgard, spreading across the void like a divine heartbeat.

Then, from the realm below, a single figure rose, a figure that is radiant and heavy with authority.

Odin, the Allfather of the Norse, ascended from the sacred halls of Valaskjálf, Gungnir resting across his shoulder.

His one remaining eye glowed like a storm trapped in gold, his cloak of ravens swirling behind him as he stepped into the void before them.

Even wounded, even burdened, Odin’s presence filled the air with an ancient, immutable power, the kind that had once commanded gods and giants alike.

He looked at the three gods gathered before him, his gaze steady but tired.

"Lugh, Thoth, Nuska..." Odin said, his deep voice resonating across the cosmic winds. "What brings the gods of foreign skies to my shattered halls?"

"You already know why I’m here for, old friend." Said Lugh.

Odin sighed, "I know. But this isn’t the place to talk. Come, follow me."

He turned, his cloak sweeping across the space as he gestured for his guests to follow.

They descended to Asgard and to his palace, the halls still shimmered faintly from the recent decorations from the party between the Greek and Norse.

The three visiting gods, Lugh, Thoth, and Nuska, walked behind him in silence, each step echoing softly against the hall of the Allfather.

They passed through corridors once filled with laughter, now heavy with the weight of countless losses.

Statues of the fallen stood along the sides, warriors, gods, and heroes immortalized in stone, watching them with cold, silent eyes.

Finally, they arrived at a grand chamber.

The meeting hall of the Nordic gods—a circular room of shimmering stone, with a great round table at its center.

Its surface was carved with sigils representing every realm of the Norse cosmology.

The faint glow of Yggdrasil’s essence pulsed beneath the carvings, like the slow heartbeat of the universe itself.

Odin sat down first, his expression unreadable.

"Please, sit," he said simply.

The three visiting gods took their seats, Lugh opposite Odin, his spear leaned beside him, golden light flickering faintly from its tip.

Thoth to his right, calm and composed with a feather and tablet resting at his side.

Nuska to his left, hands folded politely, his eyes bright with quiet curiosity.

The silence hung thick for a moment, broken only by the low hum of divine energy resonating through the runes in the table.

Odin’s single golden eye moved between them, sharp yet weary.

"Now speak," he said at last. "Tell me, what business brings gods of three universes to my broken hall?"

Lugh didn’t hesitate. His chair scraped against the floor as he leaned forward, eyes blazing.

"You already know why I’m here," he said through clenched teeth. "Why have you allied yourself with that abomination?!"

His voice rang across the chamber, laced with anger and disbelief. "You, Odin, the Allfather, King of the Nine Realms, have you forgotten what she did to the Romans? To the Pantheon that once stood beside us when we were silently hiding from those things!?"

Odin met his fury with a heavy silence. He closed his eye, his brow furrowing slightly as though the memories themselves were painful to recall.

When he spoke, his voice was deep and measured.

"I have not forgotten," he said quietly. "And I never will."

He opened his eye again, and its golden light glowed with cold resolve. "But I am a king, Lugh. And a king who clings to pride over reason will condemn his people to extinction."

He leaned back, his fingers brushing the edge of the table. "Do you think I wished to bow before her? To ask her for aid? No. Every part of me burned with hatred as I did so. But tell me, Lugh—if you stood where I stood, if your world was being devoured by the void and all your gods cried for help... would you stand proud and let your people perish, or would you swallow your hatred to save them?"

The words struck like thunder.

Lugh’s jaw tightened. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, unable to find an answer.

His hands clenched at his knees as he growled, "You could’ve asked anyone else."

Odin’s gaze sharpened.

"I did," he said coldly. "Every pantheon. Every universe. I sent ravens to the Celts, to the Chinese, to the Hindus, to the Egyptians, to the Mesopotamians. I called upon every ally I had, every friend I once fought beside."

He leaned forward now, his tone heavy with a quiet accusation. "And not one of you answered. Not even you, old friend."

Lugh’s breath caught.

Odin’s words were not laced with spite, they were simply the truth, a truth that is heavy and bitter.

"I understand," Odin continued, softer now. "Each of you has your universe to protect. I do not blame you for your silence."

Lugh lowered his head in shame.

Odin’s eye dimmed slightly. "But understand this, when the void claws at my own realm, when the Outer Ones come for us... the who responded to my call for help was not you, nor them...but her."

The room fell still.

Lugh said nothing more. His anger remained, but it was hollow now, silenced by truth.

After a few long moments, Nuska quietly raised a hand, breaking the tense quiet. His voice was calm and clear.

"Allfather," he began, "Mesopotamia wishes to understand your intentions. What becomes of this alliance you’ve forged with the Greeks? What is your purpose in uniting two pantheons who have warred for eons?"

Odin turned his gaze toward him. The Allfather’s expression softened slightly, his tone turning grave and deliberate.

"My purpose...ah, no, Our purpose..." he said, "is not to unite gods under banners or names. It is to unite worlds."

The three gods exchanged brief glances, unsure if they had heard him correctly.

Odin clasped his hands before him. ’The Greeks and the Norse... we will merge our universes, forge them together into one reality. A vast cosmic fusion, creating what we call the Hyperverse."

He paused, letting the weight of that word settle. "A realm born from many universes, sustained by the combined essence of all within. Each pantheon, each reality, sharing power, sharing fate. No longer separate, no longer isolated. But united as one."

Lugh frowned, unsure. "You intend to fuse entire universes? That’s madness."

"Madness?" Odin’s lips curved faintly. "Perhaps. But rationality will not save us from those things. The Outer Ones devour universes one by one. Alone, no pantheon can resist them forever. But together, our combined might could match even the transcendent horrors of the void."

Thoth, who had been quietly taking notes upon his tablet, looked up.

"Fascinating" he murmured. "A multiversal convergence—a Hyperverse. It would rewrite the metaphysical laws of creation. However...I feel like you are still hiding something, Allfather.."

Odin smiled. "The fusion of two universe would provide sufficient energy enough to sustain the ascension of a god to a transcendent level."

There was silence.

"What!?" Lugh stood up, hands slammed on the table, "Is that the truth!?"

Thoth pondered for moment, before nodding his head. "Indeed. Theoretically speaking. But whether it succeeds or not is another matter."

"A transcendent being... A Hyperverse..." Nuska muttered, his eyes focused.

"This is not a lie." Odin stood up, "If one universe does not have an energy sufficient enough for a god to ascend...then two. If still not enough, then three, four, five, until you can evolve! It was such a simple logic, don’t you think?"

The chamber fell into silence once again.

The golden runes along the table pulsed faintly, as if Yggdrasil itself approved, or perhaps, trembled at what was to come.