Myth: The Ruler of Spirituality-Chapter 992 - 416 Celestial Changes
Chapter 992: Chapter 416: Celestial Changes
Chapter 992: Chapter 416: Celestial Changes
Sasa…
The sound of wind rustling through the leaves echoed intermittently as the towering Thunder God walked through the dense forest.
[Yan Grepel] was fitted onto his hand, protecting his palm from the searing heat of [Mjolnir]’s haft.
A belt imbued with the authority of [Strength], wrapped tightly around his waist, further accentuated the majesty of this deity whose [Divine Power] was unmatched.
In the Asgard Divine Domain, if God King Odin was the King of All Gods, combining the wisdom and cunning of a monarch, courage and might, fidelity and majesty, then Thor was the unparalleled warrior, the invincible vanguard.
The serpent encircling Midgard could not stand against him. Even the Titans of Muspelheim were well-acquainted with his illustrious name.
The Rainbow Bridge connecting the Nine Realms had once been unable to withstand his valor, reminiscent of Zeus’s omniscience. Even without counting his formidable [Divine Artifacts], Thor’s raw strength alone nearly overshadowed the Nine Realms.
Yet at this moment, walking along this woodland path, Thor’s steps were heavy, an air of frustration and unease inexplicably weighing on his shoulders.
Not long ago, he once again received his father’s final decree—the King of the Aesir Tribe, ruler of Asgard and even the Nine Realms for tens of thousands of years, remained unwavering in his decision.
As with the countless millennia past, he firmly believed in the [Prophecy], trusting in the inevitability of fate, the end heralded by the Twilight of the Gods—though this was far from an expression of timidity or abandon.
In fact, quite the opposite: he too possessed the courage to confront the Day of Dusk head-on, even if all his efforts were predestined to amount to naught.
There was inherently nothing wrong with this belief—even Thor himself endorsed such an approach. After all, compared to Odin, who sacrificed an eye to obtain wisdom, the Thunder God admitted he might not pierce through the fog of fate and destiny. But this did not mean he would bow and submit to so-called inevitability.
He extolled his father’s actions in [Hall of Valor], where mortal heroes were trained, and shared in their hearty feasts and sparring matches. He had once boasted confidently before all gods that he would smash fate’s chest with his hammer and, alongside his father’s indomitable [Divine Lance], triumph over the inevitable Dusk. Concerning the final battle foretold by destiny, Thor had entertained countless ideas.
But he had never expected that Odin would suddenly change his original plans.
Thus, Thor left Asgard, following the trunk of the World Tree Yggdrasil downward. He ultimately arrived here: the location of the World Tree’s first and most vital root system, which sustained the Nine Realms.
According to Odin, as the King of the Aesir Tribe, he would accomplish his great undertaking here.
He would pierce through destiny’s canopy and obliterate the threatening glow of Dusk.
Every [Deity] rejoiced over this pronouncement, yet a faint unease spread within Thor’s heart.
“This is Niflheim, the land forever shrouded in ice and mist,”
“It marks the beginning of fate’s Twilight of the Gods, and it is where you will prepare to conquer it fully…”
“But, Father, have you already forgotten? You once pointed at the sacrifices offered by humanity and told me—mortals pray to gods only because they are gripped by [Fear] of nature and natural disasters, and thus pin their hopes on the gods looking down from the clouds.”
“They hope that gods might rescue them, place their faith in fleeting luck, yet true heroes would never act this way.
“They learn the will of the gods, study their martial skills and [Wisdom], then apply these to overcome difficulties. But they would never treat the love or wrath of the gods as the lifeline of their survival.”
“Only those who dare to challenge nature with their own [Strength] are heroes, and only heroes are worthy to step into the Hall of Valor… That is what you once taught me, and I have always considered it true.”
“But Father, now your actions—how are they any different from those mortals who beg for divine favor?”
“To place the hope of overcoming fate on something intangible, will this truly yield good results? …And even if by some stroke of luck it succeeds, at what cost will we achieve it?”
Sasa…
In Niflheim’s skies, Yggdrasil’s root systems stretched from the horizon. Its lower fringes dipped into the frigid [Fountain], drawing from the primal life essence buried deep within the spring.
Wisps and tendrils of breath emanated from the roots of the Divine Tree, and even the faint strands of life-force spreading from it gave rise to this forest, distinct from all other realms.
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Treading on fallen leaves by the forest’s edge, the wind of winter whistled ‘whoosh, whoosh’ around his ears. Leaving this sunlit grove behind, the mist-laden country unveiled its apocalyptic visage before his eyes.
Expansive glaciers, storms, and acid rain enveloped most of the heavens. A peculiar race of humans known as ‘Nibelungen’ migrated across the [Earth] like ants.
Twelve great rivers coursed through the world, akin to the blood vessels of a living creature, pulsating with a strange vitality.
It is said that long ago, a Black Dragon named ‘Despair’ once curled around this place but was temporarily repelled by Odin’s indomitable [Divine Lance].
At this moment, all that appeared before Thor’s sight were Yggdrasil’s damaged, sap-oozing roots and the looming black platform under construction.
“Clang—”
“Clang—”
“Clang—”
…
Giants struck hammers; the Deity Race carved inscriptions. The Dwarves, temporarily drafted for this work, directed the local ‘Nibelungen’ who swarmed over the obsidian-made scaffolding like ants.
An endless flow of divine materials was transported here, used to construct this stage almost as vast as the root systems of the Divine Wood.
Staring at the bustling scene before him, Thor found himself reminded of the days when the walls of Asgard were built.
Yet, compared to the defensive walls erected to fend off the Vanir, this place exuded greater solemnity and grandeur.
“Thor, what’s this? Are you again troubled by His Majesty’s orders?”
“Hmm? Sif?”
A subtle shift in expression eased a fraction of the worry etched in his brows and eyes.
The Thunder God tilted his head slightly, his gaze catching sight of a golden-haired goddess slowly approaching.
She was Thor’s wife, the Goddess of Plowing and Harvest. Her long, waist-length golden hair had been renowned in the world until it was irreversibly marred by one of Loki’s schemes.
“I suppose… Sif, you know how I’ve always harbored doubts about my father’s orders.”
“Using sacrifices to the world to delay the approach of the Day of Dusk… It sounds feasible, but I can’t help but feel this doesn’t align with the style of the Deity Race.”
While claiming it was out of style was a pretense, the unease in his heart was undeniably real.
Recently, after Odin returned from an excursion, the King who had ruled the Nine Realms for ages underwent a drastic change.
He not only transitioned from composed and steady to radically aggressive but also displayed new streaks of cruelty within his character.
Standing here, Thor stared at the altar under construction. Countless living beings swarmed its surface like ants, with others falling off it constantly—either slipping and plummeting down or being struck to death by debris dislodged by the giants’ blows.
