advance chapters on my Patreon
patreon.com/mati6x
The Odinforce floated in the air like a golden nebula, pulsating and alive. Filaments of pure energy twisted and danced, searching, yearning for a new vessel. The power that had defined Asgard for millennia was unanchored, ownerless, waiting.
Vidar slowly extended his hand, palm open and facing upward.
"Come," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper that somehow echoed throughout the ruined hall.
The Odinforce responded.
First came a thin thread of golden light that touched Vidar's palm. Then another. And another. Within seconds, torrents of energy flowed into him like rivers of pure power, being absorbed by his body with a voracity that made reality itself tremble.
The throne hall began to vibrate. No— it wasn't just the hall. It was the entire palace. All of Asgard.
The Nine Realms trembled as one.
The order Odin had imposed for millennia was collapsing.
And something new was being born.
Vidar screamed.
It was not a cry of pain, but of absolute transformation. The Odinforce surged into his body in ever-stronger waves of energy, but it did not remain unchanged. When the golden energy touched his essence, something happened.
It transformed.
The gold merged with his silvery power.
Pure power intertwined with balance.
Vidar's body began to shine with a light that was half golden, half silver, creating a unique radiance never before seen in the cosmos. His hair, once golden, began to change from the roots. Silver strands emerged, spreading rapidly until all his hair gleamed like liquid silver beneath starlight.
His eyes, already golden, intensified until they became miniature suns. Yet within that gold, silvery filaments danced like lightning, forming a hypnotic pattern that hurt to look at directly.
His skin emitted a faint glow, as if it were made of solidified light. Ancient runes—symbols no one in Asgard recognized—briefly appeared across his flesh before fading away.
The energy around him formed a vortex that lifted debris from the floor. Fragments of the shattered throne, pieces of armor, even parts of the cracked columns were torn from their foundations and began to orbit Vidar as if he were a planet with its own gravity.
And then, in an instant, everything stopped.
Silence fell like a hammer.
Vidar opened his eyes, and the power contained within that gaze made even Hela step back half a pace. He was no longer simply a god. He was something more. Something the universe had never seen before.
He slowly lowered his hand and looked at his palm, where small sparks of energy danced.
"You are no longer the Odinforce," he said softly, his voice resonating with harmonics that should not exist. "That name carries the weight of conquest, tyranny, imbalance. There is no reason to remember the one who corrupted you with his arrogance."
He closed his fist, and the energy in his palm solidified for a moment before dispersing.
"From now on," he declared, his voice filling every corner of Asgard, "you will be the Vidarforce. The power of true balance. The force that restores what was broken."
A pulse of energy emanated from his body— invisible yet omnipresent. Everyone in the hall felt it: a pressure, a certainty, an absolute truth that could not be denied.
The universe had accepted his declaration.
As this happened, Odin lay against the far wall of the hall, his body trembling violently. The moment the Odinforce left him, something terrible began to occur.
His body aged.
The transformation was horrific to witness. The firm, golden skin he had maintained for millennia began to wrinkle. His hair, abundant only moments before, turned completely white and brittle. His musculature, once that of a warrior in his prime, withered as if centuries of age had fallen upon him in seconds.
His armor, once perfectly fitted, now hung loosely on his shrunken body. Deep lines carved into his face, and his one remaining eye— once bright and fierce— became dull and sunken.
Odin looked exactly like what he was: an ancient god whose life had been artificially extended by the power he had now lost.
"Odin!" Frigga ran to him, tears streaming down her face. She knelt beside her husband, her hands trembling as she tried to assess his injuries.
"I need to… take him to the healing chambers," she said with a breaking voice, looking around for help. "Guards! Help me!"
Several guards, who until now had been frozen in shock, rushed to obey. They began carefully lifting the fallen All-Father, but before they could move, Odin spoke.
"No…" His voice was barely a rasping whisper, weak, nothing like the roar it once was. Yet his words were filled with pure venom. "No… this… doesn't end… like this…"
With an effort that seemed superhuman given his state, Odin turned his head to look directly at Vidar. His single eye burned with hatred so intense, so absolute, it was almost tangible.
"I… curse you…" he spat, golden blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. "Traitor… usurper… This will not… end well… for you…"
His breathing was uneven, every inhale a visible struggle.
"You may… have… the power…" he continued, each word a Herculean effort. "But you will never… never be… worthy… of it. The universe… will reject you. The realms… will rise… against you. And when you fall… when you finally… fall…"
A twisted, malicious smile spread across his aged face.
"…I… will be… watching."
"Enough, Odin," Frigga pleaded, her tears falling onto her husband's wrinkled face. "Save your strength. You need to heal."
But the hatred in Odin's eye did not diminish even as the guards finally lifted him. Even as he was carried from the hall, his gaze remained fixed on Vidar, burning with an intensity that defied his broken body.
Frigga cast Vidar a look impossible to read— pain, disappointment, understanding, all mixed together— before hurrying after the guards carrying Odin.
Only Vidar, Hela, Thor, and Loki remained in the hall.
The silence was deafening.
Thor was the first to break it. He stepped forward, Mjolnir clenched in his fist so tightly his knuckles were white. His face was a mask of confusion, pain, and something dangerously close to betrayal.
"What… what have you done, brother?" His voice trembled, not with fear, but with contained emotion. "That power was our family's legacy! It was the symbol of Asgard, of the All-Father! And you… you just took it!"
Lightning began to crackle around Thor, mirroring his turbulent emotions.
"I came here expecting answers," he continued, his voice rising. "Hoping to understand why you left, why you defied Father. But this… this is betrayal, Vidar. Betrayal of Asgard! Betrayal of our family!"
Thor raised Mjolnir, not in a direct attack, but certainly in a threatening gesture.
"Give me a reason! Give me one reason not to see this for what it is— a coup, a usurpation of power!"
Loki, by contrast, was unusually silent. He had moved to the side of the hall, his green eyes flicking rapidly between Vidar, Thor, and Hela. His mind worked at full speed, calculating, analyzing, searching for the angle, the hidden truth.
"Interesting," Loki finally murmured, his voice soft but clear. "Very interesting."
He crossed his arms and tilted his head, studying Vidar with the intensity of a scientist observing a fascinating specimen.
"All this time," Loki continued, "we always knew you were different, Vidar. Cold. Distant. Powerful in ways we didn't fully understand. But this…"
He gestured toward Vidar, who now practically radiated power.
"This surpasses even my wildest expectations. Defeating Odin in his own throne room. Taking the Odinforce— pardon me, the 'Vidarforce'— as if it were your birthright. Reshaping power itself to suit your nature."
A small, almost admiring smile appeared on his face.
"Either you are the most brilliant strategist I have ever known, or you are completely insane. Possibly both."
But beneath his light tone, there was something else. An unspoken question. A doubt. Because if Vidar could do this, what else was he capable of? And where did that leave Loki in the grand scheme of things?
"Though I must admit," Loki added, his smile fading, "that I'm curious. Thor asks why. I ask what comes next. Because no one does all this without a plan. So, brother…" his eyes narrowed, "what is your plan?"
Before Vidar could answer, laughter echoed through the hall.
Hela.
The Goddess of Death stepped forward, her heels clicking against the cracked marble. With each step, her power became more tangible. She was in Asgard, the source of her strength, and now that Odin's authority had been shattered, she could feel her own power growing without restraint.
Black swords began to materialize in the air around her— dozens of them— floating like a lethal crown.
"Finally," she said, her eyes gleaming with a hunger long held in check. "Finally, after all this time, someone in this damned family had the guts to do what needed to be done."
She stopped in front of Vidar, meeting his gaze without fear.
"Odin imprisoned me. Erased me from history. Made Asgard forget I ever existed, all because I dared question his methods, because I conquered as he taught me, because I was everything he wanted in an heir until he decided I no longer was."
Her voice grew harder, more demanding.
"I am the firstborn. I am the one who fought beside Odin when he built his empire of blood and gold. I am the one who conquered worlds in his name before Thor or you were even born. This realm…" she gestured broadly to the palace around them, "this power, this throne— they are mine by birthright."
The swords around her spun faster, reflecting her rising intensity.
"Odin stole it from me. Locked me away like an animal. But now…" a predatory smile crossed her face, "now that his power has been broken, now that his authority has been shattered by his own son, I claim what was always mine."
She stepped closer to Vidar, her eyes burning with ambition and determination.
"You have the Vidarforce. Fine. Keep it. But Asgard— the realm, the throne, the right to rule these golden halls— that is mine. I deserve that recognition as the rightful heir. Not as the shameful daughter hidden in the shadows, but as what I truly am: the Firstborn of Asgard."
Her presence filled the hall, defiant and glorious. She was a goddess in every sense of the word, and now that Odin's chains were broken, her true power was beginning to manifest.
"So, brother," Hela said, extending her hand as if already grasping the invisible throne, "what do you say? You have your power. Let me have my kingdom. We both get what we want."
Vidar observed them all— Thor with his confusion and sense of betrayal, Loki with his calculating curiosity, Hela with her hunger for power and recognition. The Vidarforce pulsed within him, singing with an energy that was both familiar and entirely new.
At last, he spoke.
His voice was calm, yet carried a weight that made every word feel as though it were being carved into the stone of fate itself.
"Thor," he began, looking at his brother, "your confusion is understandable. Your sense of betrayal justified from your perspective. But ask yourself this: what kind of legacy was the Odinforce really? Power used to conquer? To dominate? To impose order through fear?"
He turned slightly toward Loki.
"And you, Loki, always seeking the angle, always calculating. I'll give you a simple answer: my plan is to restore the balance Odin broke. Nothing more, nothing less."
Finally, his gaze settled on Hela.
He studied her in silence for a long moment, seeing not only the Goddess of Death before him, but the woman who had been unjustly imprisoned, used, and discarded when she was no longer convenient.
"Hela," he said at last, and something in his tone made her listen differently. It was not condescension. It was… recognition.
"You are right. You are the firstborn. Odin used you, taught you to conquer, then punished you for doing exactly what he trained you to do. That was unjust. That was cruel."
He paused, letting his words sink in.
"Your hunger for power is immense. Your desire for recognition, understandable. And your claim to Asgard…" he inclined his head slightly, "is not without merit."
Hela smiled, thinking she had won.
But then Vidar continued.
"However, I must ask one question: what would you do with Asgard? Resume the conquests where Odin left off? Use this realm's warriors to crush other worlds beneath your heel? Would you simply be Odin with a different name and face?"
Hela's smile faltered slightly.
Vidar stepped closer, his silver-gold eyes studying her intently.
"Your power grows here, in Asgard. The longer you remain in this realm, the stronger you become. It is your source, your anchor. Taking Asgard is not merely a desire— it is a necessity."
He nodded slowly.
"Very well," he said, and the entire hall seemed to hold its breath. "Fine. You may keep Asgard."
The words fell like stones into still water.
Thor's jaw dropped slightly. "What?"
Loki raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "An interesting decision."
Hela, for her part, looked momentarily confused before a triumphant smile spread across her face.
"I knew you would understand," she said, satisfaction dripping from every word.
But Vidar was not finished.
"You may keep Asgard," he repeated, "but under these conditions."
His tone hardened, becoming more authoritative.
"First: no more conquests without cause. If you attack, it must be in defense or to restore balance. Not for glory. Not for territorial expansion."
"Second: the realms Odin subjugated will be freed. They may choose to ally with Asgard or follow their own path. No more forced vassalage."
"Third: you will rule, yes, but not as a tyrant. This realm has seen enough tyranny. If you break these terms…"
The Vidarforce pulsed around him, a silent but unmistakable warning.
"…I will personally come to correct that imbalance. And believe me, sister, I will not be so merciful the second time."
He looked Hela directly in the eyes.
"Do you accept these terms?"
The hall fell into tense silence, waiting for Hela's answer.
END OF CHAPTER