A faint blue glow flashed, and Sean strode out of the void. The spatial passage behind him rippled like water before gradually shrinking and vanishing.
Mountains came into view. This was Norway's Lofoten Islands, which meant "lynx's foot" in Norwegian, while also referring to the line of steep islands rising abruptly from its territorial waters.
Looking into the distance, the island chain known as the Lofoten Wall formed a massive barrier stretching one hundred and sixty kilometers between the western strait and the North Sea, blocking the biting cold winds.
Sean stepped onto the lush green grass. This island standing in the bay offered an expansive view, with low hills behind it. He slowly walked to the edge of the cliff, where the boundless sea shimmered beneath the reflection of the azure sky and white clouds.
The damp sea breeze rushed toward him. Sean looked at the one-eyed old man sitting atop a pile of rocks. The King of Asgard, who had come to the mortal world, wore neither majestic golden armor nor held the powerful Eternal Scepter.
The legendary eight-legged steed Sleipnir was nowhere beside him, and the two fierce wolves Geri and Freki were nowhere to be seen. Nor did the divine ravens Hugin and Munin, who flew across the Nine Realms, perch upon his shoulders to tell him of the changes and sights from around the world.
At that moment, Odin looked like an old man in the twilight of his life. His weathered eyes were full of reminiscence, as though he felt nostalgia and regret.
What a magnificent and turbulent life he had led. While still young and strong, he had inherited the throne from his father, King Bor. At that time, Asgard had only recently defeated the Dark Elves and claimed its place as ruler