"Huff, huff."
In the pitch-black universe lay a strange region, like a chaotic asteroid field. Countless rocks of all sizes filled the void, bearing what looked like the ruins of buildings as they floated silently through space.
It was like a graveyard.
The largest fragment resembled an inverted pyramid. Upon its smooth underside sprawled a broken, charred tree, and carbonized dust occasionally drifted free from it, scattering in the weightlessness.
The tree was unimaginably enormous. Even dead, it still radiated terrifying pressure. Anything vast and boundless made people feel small, especially when they could see it but could not begin to describe just how large it was.
It was there, yet at the same time, it was not. Its sheer immensity defied all language. Calling it sky-piercing and earth-reaching was merely a form of self-comfort, an evasion of the question.
However, Odin, panting beside the blackened roots, did not care about any of that. The Yggdrasil of a Parallel World was not his.
One hand braced against the trunk as he stood, while the other used Gungnir as a cane to keep himself steady. A thread of red blood slowly flowed from beneath the armpit on one side of his Golden Armor. The severity of his wound was unclear, but the All-Father's expression was far from good.
Opposite him stood a monster. If the one Deathstroke had found was merely an offspring, then this should have been the original body.
It had originally worn the appearance of Freyr, blond-haired and blue-eyed, clad in Vanaheim's classic fur armor and holding a burning sword.
But in the next instant, countless bubbles rose across its body as though it were boiling. Like a rotting heap of garbage overturned to release its stench, it instantly transformed into another shape.
It was now a towering,