SSS Class Mythic Beast Master-Chapter 394: Nine Realms (5)

Is this the realm you wanted to make? It's so beautiful and amazing. Reinhard thought with a sigh as he stared in a daze. But then what happened to it?

Nine realms, each one exploring different aspects of consciousness. All connected through Yggdrasil, the cosmic tree that would serve as living architecture for reality itself.

Wait a minute… That tree does look similar to that golden pillar before… But it's still different. Reinhard thought as he recalled when he took on Odin form and ran up a golden pillar with Fenrir chasing behind. For a second, he thought that it was the same pillar, but its color and features were different.

And more importantly, there were no nine realms surrounding it like this.

But he was brought out of his thoughts when he felt a smile appear on Odin, one filled with pride, relief, and joy.

"Finally, it's complete." Odin whispered, voice barely audible across cosmic distances. "My beautiful new world."

Then his expression shifted, becoming more businesslike despite exhaustion, as there remained one final task before he could rest.

"Now then," Odin said, straightening despite his body's protests. "Let's put the others in places where they will flourish."

His hands rose one final time, preparing to unseal the Frost Giants and determine where they would fit in this new reality he'd created.

The dream wavered, making Reinhard frown, but he then realized this was an Odin state.

Did he really have to do this creation while he was injured? Reinhard thought with a sigh as he saw darkness creeping up.

Before darkness could claim the vision, Odin's attention fixed on what remained suspended in the void. Ymir's leftover essence, the fragments too small to form realms, and particles carrying memory of the First Ruler's indestructible body.

The substance that had withstood even the Void-Splinter Spear, and had required the First Flame's blade to finally divide.

Perfect material for what came next.

Odin closed his eyes, and Reinhard felt intention form into command. His hand rose, fingers spreading wide, and then clenched into a fist.

The leftover essence responded.

It rushed toward Odin's damaged body, drawn by a will that wouldn't be denied. But instead of healing his wounds, the fragments began arranging themselves over his form. They began building, layering, and creating something that did not exist yet somehow had always been there.

A paradox born of rewriting fate itself.

The breastplate materialized first.

Hjart.

The name resonated through Reinhard's consciousness as the armor piece took shape across Odin's chest. Dark material that defied categorization, neither ice nor bone nor stone, but something that predated such distinctions. Its surface was jagged, uneven, as if mimicking the moment Ymir's chest cavity had cracked open.

Blue lines blazed across the breastplate in intricate patterns, then shifted to gold, then back to blue in rhythm with Odin's heartbeat. The patterns weren't decorative but were actively constantly writing and rewriting reality around them.

Reinhard felt the power radiating from it. The right to impose form upon formless, the Sovereign will be made manifest. When this armor decided something should be, he could feel the void bending itself to accommodate that decision.

Fate-threads froze into obedience, hostile magic went silent before it could fully form, and time itself could be stopped within arm's reach.

And beneath it all, a sound.

Distant groaning, like mountains dying under accumulated ice. Ymir's final moments, preserved and eternally echoing.

The gauntlets formed next.

Skjald.

They materialized around Odin's hands, marrow from Ymir's fingers taking shape as armored gloves. As the gauntlets sealed, Odin flexed his fingers experimentally. The sound that emerged was glaciers colliding, ice sheets grinding against each other, and the void itself shuddered.

Reinhard understood their nature through the connection. These could grip more than physical objects. They could seize spells mid-flight, hold wind in clenched fists, capture the intention behind an attack before it manifested.

They could grasp a being's name and hold it hostage.

Abstract things became something physical that he can grab and interact with.

The greaves followed.

Gjlaffet.

They encased Odin's legs from knee to foot, forged from compressed frost-storms bound within. When Odin's feet touched nothing, the greaves still rang out as each step spread frost that lingered long for a couple of seconds before fading.

Reinhard felt how they worked.

The greaves didn't just protect, but they anchored. While wearing them, Odin could stand unmoved regardless of the force applied against him. The world itself would brace beneath his feet, reality reinforcing his position.

The helm descended last.

Halmr.

It formed from the upper curve of Ymir's shattered skull, that dome which had housed the universe's first thoughts. The material solidified consciousness, the boundary where a giant's dream had condensed into bone.

It settled over Odin's head, just enough opening for eyes, but shadows filled that space so completely his features disappeared. Two great horns curved upward from the sides, spiraling upwards.

Power flooded through the helm into Odin's mind. Reinhard felt it rush in, his dominion over memory, dream, strategy, and the hidden meanings inside others' words.

In addition to death-sight that revealed approaching endings, that exposed weaknesses in any being, that showed true shapes when masks fell away.

And most uniquely, the weight of kingship itself. The recognized authority of the universe's own accepted that this was the one who had defeated the First Ruler, therefore this was the one who commanded.

Finally, the cloak manifested.

Natt.

It billowed into existence behind Odin's shoulders, woven from the last steam rising from Ymir's corpse. The fabric was tattered, edges constantly dissolving and reforming, but its length was trailing endlessly.

The cloak moved with life independent of wind. It wrapped around Odin protectively, then spread wide like wings, then settled into elegant folds.

Reinhard understood. This granted invisibility in storm or shade, silent travel across worlds, dominion over night-winds, and all forms of concealment. Protection from unwanted gazes, whether mortal or transcendent.

Odin stood complete as he clenched his fist, the armor set of the World-Cutter fully manifested. Every piece carries fragments of the First Ruler's indestructible nature combined with Odin's transformed essence.

Dark jagged armor covered in lines that glowed blue and gold. Horned helmet hides his face in shadow. Long tattered cloak trailing from shoulders, its edges dissolving into the void.

So this is where he got the armor… I didn't know when I fought Fenrir, I was wearing such an absurd thing. Reinhard thought, already knowing he was vastly too weak at the time to truly tap into its power.

He looked less like a transcendent being and more like a fundamental force given form. Not a being who wielded power, but power itself choosing to wear a shape that beings could perceive.

He felt like the Towering Black Being.

Then everything froze.

The completed vision held for one perfect eternal moment.

Odin armored in Ymir's essence, standing before Yggdrasil with its nine nested realms, the new world spread out in cosmic magnificence.

The image shattered into countless fragments of light that scattered across infinite darkness, and Reinhard felt himself falling away from the dream at last.