Odin, too, returned to his Divine Domain of Asgard.
Asgard lay within a world deep in Chaos.
Within that Divine Domain stood magnificent golden palaces, smoke of war that never dispersed throughout the year, and battle songs that echoed between heaven and earth.
At the center of that Divine Domain stood a majestic hall.
It was the Hall of the Einherjar.
Within the Hall of the Einherjar dwelled countless spirit warriors who had fallen on the battlefield.
Day and night, they drank, sparred, and honed themselves within the hall, awaiting the arrival of Ragnarok.
Odin landed before the Hall of the Einherjar, a cold gleam flashing in his single eye.
Leaning on his ancient spear, he slowly spoke, his voice bleak and ancient, like a battle song carried from endless ages past:
"Gods of Asgard, warriors of the Hall of the Einherjar! Come before me at once!"
His words echoed through the Divine Domain of Asgard like ancient war drums.
Within that Divine Domain, countless figures converged from every direction-
There was Thor, brandishing Mjolnir, thunder cracking all around him as he roared down from the clouds.
He was tall and mighty, like the embodiment of thunder and strength, and Mjolnir seemed ready at any moment to smash invading enemies to dust.
There was Tyr, sword in hand, stepping out from the battlefield with murderous intent surrounding him.
He was a man of few words, yet seemed the embodiment of war and courage, his aura of slaughter inspiring dread in all who saw him.
There was Fire God Loki, his movements elusive, an air of cunning surrounding him as he quietly emerged from the shadows.
An inscrutable smile hung at the corner of his mouth, as though every scheme and uncertainty lay within his grasp.
There was Freyr, brimming with