Bertinus woke before dawn, his heart thundering even louder than the roar of the distant Asgardian waterfalls. The sky outside his window was still deep blue, the first hints of morning just curling at the edges.
He sat up, the weight of Mjolnir beside him like a silent promise. He ran his fingers along its handle, feeling its warmth, its strange pulse — almost like it had its own heartbeat.
A knock came at the door. A young warrior stepped in, eyes wide and shining with respect.
"Lord Thor… the All-Father waits in the courtyard," the young man said, bowing so low his hair nearly brushed the floor.
Bertinus nodded, trying to steady his hands. He stood, pulling on the heavy armor laid out for him; shining silver plates with gold edges, and a deep red cloak that seemed to glow in the half-light.
He caught his reflection in a polished shield propped against the wall. A stranger looked back at him, strong and proud, but deep inside he still saw the ordinary man he used to be.
With Mjolnir in hand, Bertinus stepped into the courtyard. The air smelled sharp and electric, charged with a heavy tension. Rows of Asgardian warriors stood at attention, their armor gleaming like stars.
At the front stood Odin, his one eye shining under the morning sun. Beside him, Lady Sif and the Warriors Three watched, their faces full of both hope and worry.
"Today," Odin's voice rolled across the courtyard like distant thunder, "we march to the Frost Fields. We do not go only to fight — we go to protect the realms, to protect our people, to protect the beating heart of Asgard."
His gaze landed on Bertinus, sharp and heavy.
"And today… Thor leads us."
A shocked murmur rippled through the soldiers. Bertinus felt a wave of fear rise in his chest, but he stepped forward, raising Mjolnir above his head.
Lightning sparked and danced across the hammer, crackling around his armor. The warriors fell silent, eyes wide and shining.
"For Asgard!" Bertinus shouted, his voice echoing off the golden towers and out beyond the shining walls.
A massive roar rose in answer, shaking the very stones. Spears slammed against shields, swords lifted in salute. The army began to move, pouring through the great gates like a river of fire and steel.
The march to the Frost Fields was long and cold. Bitter winds bit at their faces, and ice cracked under their boots. Bertinus led them from the front, each step strong and sure.
As they neared the fields, a wave of cold so deep it seemed to freeze their bones washed over them. Shapes moved in the distance –huge frost giants, blue and cruel, their eyes burning like frozen stars.
The giants roared, lifting massive ice weapons high.
Bertinus gripped Mjolnir tighter, sparks jumping across his hands. He felt every eye on him, waiting to see if he truly was Thor.
Without thinking, he charged, his red cloak whipping behind him like a flag.
"FOR ASGARD!" he screamed, Mjolnir lifted high.
A giant swung a massive axe down toward him. Bertinus leapt, crashing his hammer into the axe mid-air, shattering it into a thousand icy shards.
Thunder boomed overhead as lightning shot into Mjolnir, flowing through his body and exploding into the giant's chest. The giant fell, crashing to the ice in a roar of pain.
Behind him, the Asgardians stormed forward, their battle cries tearing through the frozen air. Steel clashed, shields shattered, frost and fire collided in bright flashes.
Bertinus moved like a living storm. Every swing of Mjolnir turned night into day for a heartbeat.
But even as they pushed forward, Bertinus felt something deep inside him shift. A warning, sharp as a blade.
He turned, scanning the field. Beyond the giants, past the fighting, deep in the shadows — he saw it. A tall, dark figure, cloaked and still, watching.
Bertinus felt his blood go cold.
He lifted Mjolnir again, planting his feet on the cracked ice, lightning crawling over his shoulders like snakes.
"For Asgard!" he roared one more time, trying to push back the fear rising in his chest.
As the sun dipped behind the frozen ridges, a chill sharper than any wind washed over him. The dark figure stepped forward slowly, its shape shifting like a black flame.
Bertinus's breath caught. The figure raised a single hand and pointed at him.
In that moment, the ground cracked beneath his feet, a bright blue light shooting up, swallowing him in a blinding glow.
Before the world went white, Bertinus heard one deep, echoing voice in his mind:
"Your true trial begins now."
And then ...Darkness.