Asgard is a realm that knows no twilight. It is a land bathed in eternal radiance, a symbol of sanctity that can never be tarnished. Though its creator, the All-Father Odin, fell during the cataclysm of Ragnarok, his supreme divinity has been flawlessly inherited by Baldur, the current Sovereign of the Aesir.
Amidst this perpetual glory, the fortress of Örvarborg stands as a sentinel, encircling the Palace of the Gods. It is the heart of the Heavenly Army's command. Viewed from the heavens, the fortress reveals its distinct strategic geometry: a massive, jagged six-pointed star.
This bastion was conceived and constructed under the direct supervision of Vaali. While widely feared as the God of Vengeance, Vaali is equally revered as the Great God of the Bow. The fortress's design—with its six sharp, star-like salients—was not merely for aesthetic grandeur. Its primary purpose was to maximize fields of fire, allowing archers and siege engines to rain devastation upon any foe daring to approach from the ground below.
Each point of this star bears a unique name and is governed by a specific commander. One of these wings is known as "Valhöllsvǫr," a name echoing the ancient legacy of Valhalla, the birthplace of the Valkyries. Fittingly, this wing serves as their garrison.
The Valhöllsvǫr Unit is of paramount importance to Asgard's defense, despite boasting only six Valkyries as its core members. Lylyth, a battle-hardened survivor of the Old Era, serves as the Supreme Commander. Her authority within the Heavenly Army is absolute, recognized without question as the right hand of Lord Vaali. Under her leadership, she and her five disciples have forged a reputation as the most distinguished unit in the post-Ragnarok era.
Inside the Conference Room of the Valhöllsvǫr Wing
The chamber was austere, furnished only with a heavy wooden map table and simple, sturdy chairs for the six warriors. At present, the five disciples sat in a tight circle, locked in a fierce debate over how to counter a monstrosity—a three-headed, six-armed beast—that was currently ravaging the desolate southern wastes of Midgard.
Inga, her long blonde hair falling over her armor, was visibly the most agitated. She drummed the shaft of her spear against the stone floor before her frustration boiled over.
"It is not that Nydia and I are cowards who fled the field!" Inga insisted, her voice rising. "But my spear strikes and Nydia's entire arsenal of magic were futile. That three-headed, six-armed abomination shrugged us off as if we were nothing."
Nydia, a petite Valkyrie with pink hair, sat curled up on her chair, hugging her knees. Though she possessed the stature of a child not yet ten years of age, she was a prodigy of terrifying potential. Even a master like Lylyth admitted that Nydia's raw magical power was second to none. Nydia sat with her eyes closed, but gave a small, solemn nod in agreement with Inga.
Ida, the blue-haired Valkyrie, interjected with a soft, empathetic tone. "No one accuses you of cowardice, Inga. Retreating when the enemy exceeds your current capability is not fear; it is tactical wisdom."
Lydia, the tallest and most muscular of the group, reached out to squeeze the shoulder of Inga, her closest friend, signaling her to breathe. Though Lydia and Inga shared a bond of sisterhood, Lylyth's tactical assignments always placed Lydia in the squad with Marin and Ida.
"If this beast truly exceeds our power, we may have to petition the Master to take the field herself," Lydia rumbled. Deep down, the brawny warrior believed that neither Inga nor Nydia was inferior to anyone. In fact, she viewed Nydia—the wielder of the cataclysmic Untora explosion magic—as the strongest among them all.
"Don't just sit there in silence, Marin. I want your opinion," Inga snapped, turning her gaze toward the Valkyrie with long dark-brown hair whom she considered her rival.
Marin lifted her head slowly. Her expression was contemplative and composed, a stark contrast to Inga's fire. Although she held no higher rank than her peers, her prudence and foresight often cast her as the natural leader in times of crisis.
"If even the Untora magic could not destroy Ashuran, then it is likely beyond our individual capabilities," Marin said, her voice accepting the gravity of the situation, while ensuring the group used the monster's proper name.
Nydia opened her eyes. Her small face twisted with dissatisfaction at her own failure. "Truthfully, I do not believe that monster could withstand the raw destructive yield of Untora. But because it possesses six hands and three heads, it can conjure spells faster and in greater volume than I can. It weaves layers of defensive barriers so rapidly that my explosion never even reached its skin."
Marin suddenly smiled. It was a serene smile, yet brimming with quiet confidence.
"To cast spells with such speed and volume is indeed a formidable defense..." Marin began. "But if all five of us coordinate our assault, surely a three-headed, six-armed beast cannot prevail against the five heads and ten arms of our sisterhood."
Nydia, the genius, listened to Marin's logic and felt an immediate wave of reassurance. She nodded vigorously, attempting to mimic the confident smile on Marin's face. Although Nydia knew her magical reserves dwarfed Marin's, she felt she lacked a certain essential quality—a composure that Marin possessed in abundance. Thus, the child-like prodigy often found herself imitating the older Valkyrie.
"However," Marin continued, shifting the map on the table, "apart from the matter of Ashuran, there is a second crisis. We must discuss the assassination of the leaders of the four major Dwarven clans."
As guardians of Asgard, their duty extended beyond mere monster hunting; they were the overseers of order across the realms.
Inga sighed, her voice dripping with boredom. "It is likely another plot by the High Elves to cripple the support for Gods Modi and Magni."
The five of them were well aware of the endless friction between the High Elves—backed by the God Vidar—and the faction of Modi and Magni, who had aligned themselves with the Dwarves, Forest Elves, and Humans.
Marin nodded once. "That is the likely conclusion. But this time, a new variable has entered the equation. A new Dwarven figure has emerged. It is said he is an heir to the Drakavaldr clan, the ancient rulers of the now-fallen kingdom of Ósigrheimr."
Inga crossed her arms, unimpressed. "Dwarven kingdoms rise and fall like the tides. I can't keep track of them all."
Marin ignored the dismissive tone, her focus remaining on the strategic implications. "The Drakavaldr clan is not hard to remember, Inga. The name literally translates to 'Dragon Rider'. Do not forget that the combat capabilities of the Dwarves escalated massively only after this specific clan succeeded in taming and training dragons."
Ida, who had been silent, voiced a thought. "I heard rumors that humans have also learned to train dragons and utilize them for war."
Marin shook her head slowly. "In Midgard, finding even a single dragon egg is an arduous task. Only the Dwarven armies are the true masters of draconic warfare."
Nydia spoke up, returning to the individual in question. "And this dwarf of the Drakavaldr clan... does he intend to restore his kingdom, or does he harbor another purpose?"
"The dwarf goes by the name 'Mikillfr Drakavaldr'. Intelligence suggests he is currently attempting to gather support troops within Dabalinn's Keep," Marin explained.
Nydia frowned in thought. "Restoring a kingdom is a fool's errand right now. Dabalinn's Keep is already in turmoil; I've heard there are too many rival warlords in that region."
"But in reality," Marin countered, "if we exclude famous clans like the Dragon Slayers, the entire western territory of Svartalfheim was once under the dominion of the Drakavaldr. Their name still holds power."
"If that is the case, the appearance of this Mikillfr Drakavaldr must be a seismic event in Svartalfheim," Nydia concluded.
"Precisely, Little One," Marin said, using her affectionate nickname for the girl.
"So, what are we to do about this?" Lydia asked bluntly. She was a woman of action, not politics. Her tone carried a heavy question: Are we to protect this heir, or assassinate him?
Marin, acting as the anchor of the meeting, replied, "Even though we are the Guardians of Asgard, matters involving the conflict between God Vidar and the brother gods Modi & Magni require a direct decree from Lord Vaali. We cannot interfere in divine politics without orders. Therefore, the only matter we are authorized to handle right now is the beast, Ashuran."
The hierarchy was clear. Vidar, a son of the former All-Father Odin and half-brother to King Baldur, held a station far above Modi and Magni, who were merely the sons of Thor—nephews to the throne. When spoken of together, Vidar's name always took precedence.
"Well, you never know. The Master has gone to meet with Lord Vaali and hasn't returned yet. There might be other urgent matters we must attend to first," Inga remarked, ever eager to challenge Marin's certainty.
Ida muttered into the air, staring out the narrow window. "The conflict between Vidar and the brothers Modi and Magni has festered for so long. I just hope it doesn't erupt into something irreversible."
Suddenly, the sound of urgent, heavy footsteps echoed from the corridor outside, shattering the quiet atmosphere of the Valhöllsvǫr wing. Since only six Valkyries resided in this sector and five were present, the footsteps could belong to no one else.
It was Supreme Commander Lylyth.
BANG!
The heavy wooden door, reinforced with iron, was shoved open with such violence that it slammed against the stone wall.
The five Valkyries turned in unison.
Lylyth stood in the doorway. Her face, usually a mask of calm composure, was twisted in an expression of panic rarely seen on a warrior who had survived the horrors of Ragnarok. The eternal light of Asgard streaming through the window seemed to dim in her presence. She looked unraveled, the shock etched deep into her features.
The five Valkyries stood up immediately, snapping to attention to salute their leader.
Upon seeing her students, Lylyth paused, struggling visibly to regain her breath and her composure. She steadied herself, but when she finally spoke, her voice trembled with turbulent emotion.
"Dismissed. Everyone, return to your quarters and prepare for war."
Marin stepped forward, the only one daring to break protocol. "Master... what has happened?"
Lylyth's eyes wavered, looking past them, before she delivered the news that would shatter the fragile peace of the Nine Realms.
"The God... Magni... is dead."
Silence, cold and absolute, descended upon the room. The five Valkyries were struck dumb with terror. The death of a god who had survived Ragnarok was unprecedented since Baldur took the throne. Although Thrudr, Thor's daughter, had previously perished by the fangs of the dread dragon Vulkanfang, the role and significance of Magni were vastly different.
Magni, the Traveler God, was the patron deity of Midgard. He was the enforcer of The Law of the Holy Hammer and the physically strongest hero of the Post-Ragnarok era.
But today, that strength had failed.
Who killed Magni? The brother gods are now left with only Modi... How will this universe endure the coming storm?