At that moment, Odin, dressed in casual clothes, strode in slowly.
He glanced at Skurge, who was sitting on the floor, then at Homelander's awkward expression. A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes.
Homelander coughed and swiftly put on his usual approachable smile.
He hurried over, grabbed Skurge by the arm, and hauled the still-shaken man to his feet.
"Sorry, buddy."
Homelander reached out and brushed the dust from Skurge's trench coat, his tone apologetic.
"Well... I mistook you for someone else. The way you were dressed just now... you looked too much like an old friend I used to know."
Skurge steadied himself and nervously rubbed his smooth scalp.
"Is that how you greet your old friends...?"
"Of course. That was the blazing friendship of hot-blooded youth," Homelander answered with a straight face.
Standing off to the side, Odin had taken in Homelander's momentary loss of composure.
He looked at Homelander with an amused half-smile and teased, "I never expected the fearless God of Humanity to get so nervous over someone."
"Everyone has a past, Odin." Homelander was unconcerned. "Even gods get a little neurotic now and then. That's perfectly reasonable, isn't it?"
Odin chuckled but did not press the matter further. Instead, he turned his gaze toward Skurge.
"Then, my warrior." Odin's voice regained the majesty of the Allfather. "You went to such lengths to come to Midgard. What exactly happened?"
"Great Allfather! Heimdall sent me to report an emergency!"
"Nidavellir is under attack!"
"The Black Order's army has surrounded the Star-ring Forge. The dwarves are being slaughtered, the entire realm is in grave danger, and..."
Odin's single eye narrowed slightly, his expression turning cold.
Skurge continued his report nervously.
"Prince Thor and Prince Loki happened to land right in the middle of the battlefield through the Bifrost.