On the battlefield at sunset.
Frigg rushed through the burning columns and crumbling earth to find Freyr before the Vanir formations.
She said almost nothing, simply pressing into his hand a long sword radiating a warm light—the Sword of Victory.
"Freyr... For Baldr's sake, for everything that was in the past..." Frigg's voice trembled, her eyes filled with pleas and a final farewell.
The moment the hilt touched his hand, the divine sword, which had been silent and subdued in Frigg's grasp, suddenly blazed with an unprecedented, brilliant golden light in its owner's palm.
The golden-bristled boar Gullinbursti roared, carrying its master and charging into the King of the Fire Giants like a golden meteor.
However, Surtr was the embodiment of primordial flame, the master of Múspellsheimr.
With every swing of his blazing sword, he carried the power to burn all things, and the space around him melted.
Despite the blessing of the Sword of Victory and his outstanding martial skills, Freyr was still at a disadvantage in the face of absolute power and destructive heat.
His golden armor was scorched and deformed, his hair curled and charred, and every encounter was fraught with danger.
Immediately after a narrow dodge, Freyr seized a fleeting opportunity!
He thrust the Sword of Victory with all his might, and the blade exploded with dazzling bright light, like a second sun!
This light instantly robbed Surtr of his sight and even briefly hindered his perception of the flames.
"Now!"
Freyr did not choose to strike with the Sword of Victory.
He knew that even if he could stab him, he might not be able to completely destroy this ancient giant king.
He drew the magical sword he always carried with him—Tyrfing!
The blade was dark, as if thirsting for more divine blood.
Freyr used all his strength to hurl Tyrfing like a javelin!
The dark shadow of the sword cut through the burning air, penetrating with great precision into Surtr's completely unprotected heart!
The massive body of the Fire Giant King suddenly tensed, and he looked down in disbelief at the sharp hilt in his chest; the destructive force drained from his body like a receding tide.
"Ugh... In the end, it was... such filth..." Surtr let out a dull, angry roar, and his enormous body began to tilt.
But just before his complete fall, the Fire Giant King displayed his final terror.
He opened his burning arms with the resolve to die together and suddenly embraced the exhausted Freyr!
It was as if a star had exploded in the center of the battlefield!
All of Surtr's remaining divine power and the origin of the Eternal Fire were completely released at this moment!
A huge, expanding ball of fire engulfed the figures of the two gods.
The golden-bristled boar let out a final cry and turned to ash in the flames.
The light dissipated, leaving only a huge, vitrified crater on the spot, and Tyrfing, which seemed to hum with satisfaction after drinking the blood of the Giant King and the God of Abundance.
Almost simultaneously with the surge of energy when Freyr and Surtr died together, Narcissus (Hades), who was far away at the edge of the battlefield observing the overall situation, slightly raised his eyes.
"Enough," he calmly whispered, but his voice was clear to every member of the Vanir and the Legions of Hades.
"Time to withdraw."
The order was given, and the well-trained legions showed no love for the fight.
Through the 'Rainbow Bridge' built by Athena, the Vanir and the warriors of Hades began to evacuate with astonishing efficiency.
In an instant, the formed divine army vanished from the burning battlefield, like a receding tide, starkly contrasting with the Æsir gods and giants still fighting desperately.
Without the relatively orderly force of the Vanir, the battlefield completely descended into the most primitive chaos and slaughter.
And at this moment, the eternal fire Loki had ignited at the base of the World Tree spread wildly along the veins of Yggdrasil to the land of Ásgarðr!
The monstrous flames were no longer invaders from Múspellsheimr, but the rage and collapse of the world itself.
The flames were like a living tsunami, flooding temples and consuming plains, engulfing the still-fighting gods and giants, turning them to charcoal and ash.
Atop the towering, yet beginning to crumble, Golden Palace, Odin, the Father of the Gods, had lost his spear, his ravens, all his sons, and most of his comrades.
He was no longer the majestic God-King, but simply an old man sitting wearily and without dignity on the ground, watching the sea of fire surging with his one eye, a look of relief and deep weariness in his gaze.
The flames converged before him, writhing and condensing into a vague, humanoid silhouette—it was Loki.
He could not utter a sound, but his flame-covered face clearly conveyed endless sarcasm, pleasure, and a slight, victor's sorrow.
Odin looked at the shadow of revenge transformed from his former blood brother. At first, he was silent, and then—at first softly, then loudly, and then even a little madly!
"Ha ha... Hahaha... Come on, brother! Come on!"
Instead of resisting, he spread his arms and met the fiery embrace.
Under Narcissus's indifferent gaze, Odin tightly embraced the flame avatar of Loki.
The God-King's body burned rapidly in the eternal fire, and his divine power, wisdom, and everything he was became the last fuel for this final blaze.
His laughter abruptly ceased in the flames, transforming into a pillar of light soaring into the sky, and then completely disappeared.
Loki's flame avatar also fully integrated into the sea of fire, as if satisfied after completing this final revenge, and no longer had an independent form.
Odin's fall was like the final signal.
Ásgarðr, having lost its support, accelerated its collapse, and the fire of the World Tree, spreading from below, finally burned away all the barriers of the realm.
The entire World Tree, Yggdrasil, the magnificent tree supporting the Nine Realms—from its roots to its crown—was completely enveloped in golden eternal fire.
It was no longer a tree, but a torch standing in the void, indescribably large.
Then, in silent stillness, it collapsed and crumbled, turning into countless scattered sparks and pervasive ash, and finally returned to silence and void.
The old world, along with its gods, giants, resentments, and legends, had completely become history.
On the throne of Chaos's Hades, he slowly opened his eyes.
In the depths of Hades, the immense energy erupting from the ruins of the entire Norse world gradually calmed, transforming into a solid foundation supporting his own world.
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