《The Tale of Týr: Omen Of Midgard》 Chapter 1 – The Weight of Strength THE HUNT The rain had not stopped for hours. A boy standing in the darkness of it all soaking wet the boy¡¯s cloak was, turning dirt to mud beneath his bare feet. Yet, he stood motionless¡ªwatching. The beast before him, a towering bear, exhaled mist into the cold air. Its fur was thick, matted with rain and grime, but its eyes burned with primal hunger. It had sensed him, yet it did not fear him. A mistake. Draven tightened his fists. His breath was steady, measured. The hunger in his stomach no longer mattered. The cold nipping at his skin faded into nothing. There was only this moment. The bear roared, its voice shaking the trees, and then it charged. Draven didn¡¯t move. The beast swung a massive paw, its claws like curved blades meant to tear flesh from bone. But before the strike could land, Draven was already gone¡ªhis body slipping past the attack like water flowing through cracks. And then he struck. His fist met the bear¡¯s ribs with a force that sent a shockwave through the air. The beast stumbled, coughing out a breath as the impact left a deep indentation in its side. But it recovered quickly, its survival instincts overriding pain. Draven watched, expressionless. The bear lunged again, its jaws wide, aiming to crush his skull in one bite. This time, Draven stepped forward. With a single uppercut, his fist met the bear¡¯s lower jaw. The sound of the impact cracked like thunder through the storm. The beast was lifted off its feet¡ªits massive body hurled back several feet before crashing into the mud with a sickening thud. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Silence. Draven stood over it, his breath slow and controlled. The beast twitched but did not rise. It was over. He did not feel pride. No joy. Just hunger. --- THE FIRE "Draven dragged the bear through the storm, his destination clear. A cave, nestled deep in the mountain, where firelight promised warmth. He set to work." The flames crackled softly, their warmth fighting against the cold. The scent of cooking meat filled the air, but Draven paid it little mind. He sat cross-legged before the fire, staring at the bubbling stew. Two bowls. One at his side, untouched. He was waiting. A gust of wind disturbed the flames, yet the fire did not flicker. The air itself seemed to bend, as if reality had become uncertain. And then, he was there. The angel sat beside him, his presence both peaceful and terrifying. He did not belong to this world¡ªhis very existence warped the air, bending the fabric of reality around him. To an ordinary man, the sight would be unbearable. But Draven was not an ordinary man. The angel reached for the bowl, his hands impossibly still. As he lifted it, the weight of his presence pressed down, like the air itself carried judgment. Angel (calmly): **"A bear this time? You grow bolder with each passing season, Draven."** Draven (serious): **"Bears are strong. I wanted to know if I was stronger."** Angel: **"Strength without wisdom is a blade without a handle. It will cut you first."** Draven listened but said nothing. His eyes flickered toward the darkened trees beyond the fire¡¯s glow. Angel (claps his hands): **"Where are you wandering off to?"** Draven: **"I often wonder why I was brought here¡­ what my purpose is."** The angel set his bowl down, his gaze deep, unreadable. Angel: **"The world is not as simple as strong and weak, Draven. There is evil, and there is good¡­ but sometimes, they wear the same face."** Draven¡¯s grip on his spoon tightened. He did not look away. Angel: **"You are afraid of the world. I see it in your eyes. But you are also drawn to it. You want to know it, to understand it. That is not weakness¡ªthat is what makes you different."** The rain continued to fall, but the fire did not die. Angel: **"Many seek strength to destroy. You seek strength to see. That is why you struggle, why you push yourself even when no one is watching."** Draven exhaled slowly. Angel: **"But know this: knowledge is not without cost. The more you learn, the heavier the burden. Are you ready to carry it?"** Draven (firmly): **"I don¡¯t know."** A small smile flickered across the angel¡¯s face, as if he expected that answer. Angel: **"Good. A fool is certain. A wise man doubts. Let your doubts drive you forward, but never let them stop you."** The silence stretched between them. The flames flickered, casting shadows that twisted and danced. Then¡ª A distant sound. Low. Deep. Almost unnatural. Draven¡¯s head snapped toward the treeline. A roar. But not from a bear. Something else was out there. Watching. His fingers twitched with the need to move. To find it. To see. The angel followed his gaze, but his expression remained unreadable. Angel (softly): **"Time to rest, Draven. Tomorrow¡­ we train."** Draven hesitated, his mind still lingering on the sound. But he nodded. The fire crackled. The rain continued to fall. And in the depths of the forest, something stirred. "This is an original work by [Keanu Chandler Hendricks/Keanu Chandler]. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce, distribute, or adapt without permission." Chapter 2 - The Conquest For Control "The world is not kind... nor fair. The strong shape the land with their will, while the weak are trampled beneath it. Kingdoms rise on the backs of the enslaved, and gods sit on their thrones of gold, unmoved by the cries of those who suffer below. But power is a fickle thing. Legends say the world was not always like this. That once, before the hands of false gods wove their rule into the bones of creation, there was balance. Justice. Meaning. But that is just a story whispered by the dying. Now, only one truth remains¡­ "Might is law." A law written in blood, carved into flesh, and bound in chains. But in the depths of¡ª" The words blurred. The voice, once firm, began to dissolve into whispers, swallowed by an unseen force. The dream was slipping, fading into nothingness. Then¡ª "Draven. Draven. Draven!" A sharp inhale. A gasp for air. Draven''s eyes snapped open. His body tensed as if expecting a fight, but instead of an enemy, his gaze met the familiar sight of the cave¡¯s stone ceiling. Morning had come. The air was cool, damp with the scent of earth and embers. A presence loomed beside him. Angel: "Finally awake?" Draven blinked, the weight of the dream still clinging to his mind. His heart pounded¡ªnot from fear, but from something deeper. Something unknown. Angel (grinning): "Good. Time to train." THE FORGE OF STRENGTH The angel led him to a clearing where a blackened anvil sat in the center. A forge with roaring fire blazed nearby, its embers glowing like dying stars. This was not the first time Draven had forged a weapon¡ªbut today, something was different. "Take the hammer," the angel instructed. "Today, you forge with purpose." Draven grasped the worn handle, feeling the weight settle into his hands. The hammer was heavy¡ªheavier than it had been before. The angel must have done something to it. "What am I forging?" Draven asked. The angel gestured to a lump of raw metal beside the anvil. "A blade. One of your own making." Draven nodded and set to work. He placed the metal into the fire, waiting for it to glow red-hot. Sweat beaded on his brow as the heat wrapped around him, but he did not back away. He had learned long ago that the forge demanded patience. The moment the metal was ready, he pulled it from the flames and placed it on the anvil. He raised the hammer high¡ª CLANG. Sparks burst into the air as metal struck metal. Draven gritted his teeth, adjusting his grip before striking again. CLANG. CLANG. CLANG. The force of each blow traveled through his arms, rattling his bones. His muscles burned, but he refused to stop. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. "Again," the angel ordered. "A warrior must know his weapon like he knows his own heartbeat." Draven worked tirelessly, shaping the metal, folding it over itself, hammering out every imperfection. His vision blurred, sweat dripping into his eyes, but he kept going. Finally, after what felt like hours, he had something resembling a blade. It was rough, unpolished, and uneven¡ªbut it was his. The angel examined it, then nodded. "Not bad. But it is unfinished. A dull blade will not save you in battle." Draven groaned but picked up the grindstone, beginning the slow, painstaking process of sharpening his creation. By the time he finished, his hands were raw, his body aching. But as he held the completed blade in his hands, something stirred within him. Pride. He had forged this. He had endured. And next time, he would do even better. THE TRIAL OF PERCEPTION Night had fallen by the time the angel led him deep into the forest. The trees loomed high, their twisted branches casting eerie shadows against the moonlight. The angel laughs and he vanishes, erasing any trace that he even existed, a chilling feeling is felt through Draven as if something touched his soul. Angel: "Where am I Draven?-look for me, search for my presence." The angel moves as if he is in multiple places at one time his voice came from everywhere and nowhere. Draven staggered back, confusion twisting his expression. "What is happening? What is this?" Angel: "Close your eyes Draven and look, where am I?" Draven: "How do you expect me to do that?" Draven¡¯s brow furrowed as he shut his eyes, focusing. He had to listen¡ªnot just with his ears, but with something deeper. The angel had told him this before. "Where am I?" A whisper, closer this time. Draven took a slow breath. His senses reached outward, stretching into the dark. He could feel the warmth of the sun against his skin, hear the rustling leaves, the insects buzzing¡­ but nothing else. He gritted his teeth. "Where am I?" This time, the voice was behind him. He turned, lunging in that direction, but his hand met nothing but empty air. Laughter. Draven¡¯s eyes snapped open in frustration. The angel stood several feet away, arms folded, his usual amused smile in place. "You rely too much on your sight, Draven." The angel¡¯s tone was calm. "A warrior cannot always trust what his eyes tell him. They deceive, just like the world around us." Draven frowned, glancing down at his hands. He knew the angel was right. Every time he tried to listen, to sense something beyond his normal reach, he failed. "Again." The angel¡¯s voice was firm. Draven took a deep breath and closed his eyes once more. This time, he tried not to think. He let go of frustration, of impatience. Instead of searching for the angel, he focused on what was missing. The wind moved freely. The leaves rustled naturally. The world had a rhythm, a pulse¡ªuntil one part of it didn''t. Draven''s lips parted. "There." He turned suddenly, pointing toward the trees. And for the first time, the angel gave him a nod of approval. "Better. But still too slow." Draven huffed. He was getting tired of this. The angel stepped forward. "You lack patience, but you¡¯re improving." He reached out, placing a hand on Draven¡¯s head. "Now, tell me¡ªhow have the past six months been treating you?" Draven hesitated before answering. "Whenever you leave, I feel alone¡­ but I remember what you teach me about survival, and it doesn¡¯t seem so bad anymore." The angel studied him for a moment, then gave a small smile. "There¡¯s a reason I leave every six months. You need to grow stronger without relying on anyone but yourself. Soon, you¡¯ll be strong enough to rival me." Draven¡¯s eyes flickered with determination. He wanted that more than anything. But strength wasn¡¯t just about fighting. Over the next few days, the angel put him through brutal training¡ªhis body ached from endless sparring, his hands were raw from forging weapons, and his mind strained to solve riddles. Some he got right. Others, he struggled with. Angel: "Strength is not merely power. It is wisdom, will, and something else," the angel said one evening as they sat by the fire. "Tell me, Draven, what is the third piece?" Draven thought hard, as he studied a book on forging. "Wisdom, will¡­ What else matters?" He frowned, frustrated. He wanted to say power, but that felt wrong. Then he remembered something the angel once said¡ªabout how a weapon was only as strong as the hand that wielded it. "Control," he muttered. "You need to control your strength, or it means nothing." The angel raised a brow. "An interesting answer." Draven waited, expecting to hear whether he was right or wrong. But the angel simply leaned back, gazing at the sky. "One day, you will understand the full truth." Draven frowned. He hated when the angel was vague like that. But as he sat there, he realized something. Even after months alone, he was still here. Still fighting. One day, he would stand on his own. And when that day came, the world would know his name. And for now, that was enough. But in the shadows of fate, something waited for him¡ªwatching, waiting, inevitable. Chapter 3: Hunger From Within A place, a hidden dimension with extreme weather conditions¡ªwhen it rains, places that once were land become lakes; when it snows, the world becomes a frozen tundra; when the wind blows, its sheer force sends giant trees flying everywhere, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake. A place that our mysterious friend calls home. Eight years have passed, and Draven is now 19. He sits on a mountaintop with a raging waterfall next to him, holding a giant battle axe that rests on his shoulders. His eyes reflecting the sunset as you see how battle-hardened he has become. With age, he grew wise. Familiar footsteps can be heard from behind him. Angel: "You¡¯ve been sitting there for hours. Have you finally mastered the art of always losing to me?" Draven''s face twitches in frustration. Draven: "What do you mean!? I made you dodge once and I was just... thinking." Angel: (snorts) "Sure you did. Let me guess¡ªthinking about all the great battles you¡¯ll have once you leave this place?" Draven: (exhaling slowly) "¡­So it¡¯s almost time, then?" Angel: "Midgard is waiting for you. But don¡¯t fool yourself into thinking you¡¯ll be some unstoppable force when you get there. This realm kept you hidden, but it also kept you away from warriors that won''t think twice to kill you." (glances at Draven) "You¡¯re strong, but you¡¯re not the strongest¡ªnot even close." Draven: "I figured. But that¡¯s fine. I don¡¯t want to be invincible¡ªI want to see the world you always speak of, and seek out the purpose you say I have there, plus I cant wait to battle strong people." Angel: (grinning, slapping Draven on the back) "Good answer! Im glad you still remember our talks about Midgard. You¡¯ll meet plenty of people there¡ªwarriors, thieves, nobles, killers¡­ and women, Draven. So many women." Draven: (smiling) "I knew this was coming." Angel: (mock offense) "What? You think I¡¯d let my only student go into the real world without at least some wisdom about the finer things in life?" (leans in, whispering) "The trick is to¡ª" Draven:(laughing) "I swear, if you finish that sentence, I¡¯m throwing you off this mountain." Angel: (laughing, hands raised in surrender) "Alright, alright. But seriously, Draven, when you get to Midgard, you¡¯re going to feel weak. You¡¯ll struggle. And if you want to survive, you¡¯ll have to grow even more. This was just preparation¡ªthe real challenge starts the moment you step out of here." (pauses, his usual smirk softening) "Are you ready?" Draven: (silent for a moment, then stands, slinging his axe onto his back. His eyes reflect the shifting sky.) "I don¡¯t know. But I¡¯ll find out soon enough." Angel (staring into the distance): "I know that you are capable Draven so, remember your training in tough times. With that... (turns away) I will be taking my leave." Draven watches him go. Draven: "See you in six months." Angel smirks over his shoulder Angel: "Oh, and Draven there is something waiting for you deeper in the forest, you can finally fight it. Have fun." The angels laughter fades as he leaves. Then- This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. A deafening shriek rips through the forest. The ground trembles, trees shaking violently, flocks of birds fleeing into the sky almost if it''s intention was to lure Draven to the depths of the forest. Draven''s lips curled into a smile, his heart pounding steadily. He knew this beast was unlike the other creatures that roamed the realm. This one was different¡ªstronger, more dangerous. The angel hadn¡¯t just left; it had left him a final test, a monster powerful enough to push him to his limits. Draven (excitedly thinking to himself): "You gotta be shitting me. That cry... other times, it roared¡ªnow it''s a shriek. That has to be its true voice(his eyes narrow) it''s... heavy, I can finally fight after all these years. I need to prepare." A few days passed. Draven reforges his axe, mended his armor, and ensured he had a backup sword. But there''s something he knows he was forgetting. He journeys deeper into the forest, further than he ever has before. With each step, the air grows thinner, harder to breathe. Draven: "It''s like im on a mountains peak." The earth smelled damp the ground breaking away from decay... Draven (serious): "Rot." THE WELCOMED GUEST Before Draven knew it, something fast was hurtling toward him. Instinct took over¡ªhe ripped his axe from his back and braced for impact. The force of the attack was relentless, driving him backward through a multitude of giant trees, their trunks splintering like brittle twigs. In the chaos, Draven caught a glimpse of what he was blocking¡ªa massive, gaping maw. His muscles strained as he shoved himself aside, breaking free from the crushing pressure. Landing on his feet, he finally got a full view of his opponent. A gigantic snake. FIRST SIGHTING Draven (angrily, spitting blood): "That damn angel... he loves me so much. Look at this ugly thing." The serpent''s body coiled, gliding across the earth like living chains. Its head rose¡ªso massive that no beast Draven had ever seen could compare. Its dark scales shimmered with scarlet, lined with veins of sapphire blue, pulsing with power. Power that felt eerily familiar¡ªsomething only the angel had ever radiated. Magic. The creature moved, coiling, watching, shifting its body. Then, it let out a shriek so powerful it sent shockwaves through the air, an unseen force crashing into Draven. Draven couldn¡¯t move. Succumbed with fear. His hands and legs shaking. Then the serpent lunged. Its speed was unnatural for its size. Draven barely dodged, gripping his axe as he ran away. The serpent immediately gave chase, slithering with terrifying precision. Draven (glancing back while running): "That wasn¡¯t normal fear¡­ it did something to me." Little did he know, the serpent had another trick up its sleeve. A thick, poisonous gas began seeping from its mouth, spreading across the battlefield. Draven skidded to a stop, realization dawning. Draven: ¡°It wasn¡¯t chasing me. It was herding me.¡± His grip on the axe tightened. He turned, rushing toward the beast with no wasted movement, swinging for its head. The serpent barely moved¡ªtilting its skull just enough for the blade to whistle past its face, missing by inches. Then, it shrieked again. Draven staggered. His vision blurred. His knees nearly buckled. His instincts screamed at him, and his mind burned. Then the serpent struck. Its sheer mass slammed into Draven¡¯s torso. A sickening crack. Draven was launched backward, crashing into the dirt. The impact knocked the air from his lungs. He rolled, coughing, feeling his ribs ache. The poison gas thickened filling the area. His heartbeat pounded. The poison was working, slowing him down. The snake advanced. It wasn¡¯t in a rush¡ªit knew Draven would weaken. It wanted him to struggle, to feel his body failing him. Draven coughed blood. FIRST SIGHTING Draven filled up with rage, thinking of the fact he might die even before he reached Midgard. But something arose within him¡ªa hunger. A red aura pulsed violently from his body. Draven stood up with the help of his axe. It seemed as if his body was healing¡ªall cuts and bruises vanishing slowly. A menacing expression contorted on his face. Draven felt more powerful and faster. All his battle senses were heightened, and unfortunately, so was his desire to fight. The snake lunged again. Draven didn''t dodge. He stepped in, axe already swinging, intercepting the beast mid-motion. The blade bit deep into its jaw. The serpent screeched¡ªnot to attack, but in pain. Draven¡¯s lips curled into something almost like a grin. A battle-hungry fire surged through his veins. It felt good. He yanked the axe free, his stance lowering. He could feel his pulse racing, his instincts flaring, his hunger to fight growing. The serpent reared back, sensing the change. But it was too late. Draven charged. The next exchange was pure violence. His swings came faster, sharper, every movement calculated and brutal. His axe found the serpent¡¯s wounds again and again, tearing through its thick hide with surgical precision. The beast coiled, desperate now, trying to trap him in its massive body. Draven let it. The coils snapped shut¡ªonly to find empty space. Draven had already leaped above it. With a final roar, he brought the axe down onto the creature¡¯s skull. The blade buried itself deep. The serpent convulsed, its body thrashing wildly. It tried to shriek again¡ªbut this time, its voice failed. The fear it had instilled in him¡ªthe creeping dread¡ªit faded. The coils fell limp. The poison mist began to clear. Draven stood there, chest heaving, blood dripping from his axe. His hands trembled¡ªnot from exhaustion, but from something else. The hunger was still there. And it terrified him. It was something that, given the chance¡ªwould control him. Draven began walking away from the now-slain beast and fell to the ground, realizing that the poison still lingered within his body. He checked his pouch for medicine that would neutralize the poison¡¯s effects or at least slow it down. Draven (chuckles): "That''s what I was forgetting." As Draven tried to lay his head down, he remembered a lesson the angel had given him. Angel¡¯s words: ¡°Draven, knowing your plants and herbs can one day save your life¡ªor your heart. But for heartbreak¡­ drown in booze.¡± (laughs) Draven (steadily lifts his head): "I can''t give up now. I don''t want to die." Draven looked deeply into his surroundings, his eyes blurring more and more. Then, he saw a familiar sight¡ªa medicinal plant from a book the angel had given him. Draven crawled toward the plant, mixing a few of them together and squeezing the bitter remedy into his mouth, swallowing it. Minutes passed. The pain faded. Draven let out a breath, then started laughing. He lived. Chapter 4: The Hymn Of War SIX MONTHS HAVE PASSED Draven carries on as usual, completing his daily training and tasks. He tests his proficiency with the sword and shield, axe, and scythe, and engages in battles of raw strength, using nearby mountains as punching bags¡ªstriking the hard surface until he creates doorways big enough for him to fit through. As Draven drives his fists into a mountain, the wind shifts. Turning, he sees the angel¡ªbut something is different. A feeling Draven cannot yet describe settles over him, hollow and unfamiliar. Yet he knows¡ªit is empty. The angel¡¯s presence is dimmed by an unspoken sorrow. This is their final time together. Angel (sarcastically): ¡°My baby is all grown up.¡± Draven (laughs): ¡°Shut up.¡± Angel: ¡°You never stop, do you?¡± Draven shakes the dust off his knuckles. ¡°Training never ends, right?¡± Angel: ¡°How did your battle with the snake go?¡± Draven: ¡°It was strong, but I was stronger.¡± Angel: ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant. You felt it again, didn¡¯t you?¡± Draven (exhales sharply): ¡°This time, it wasn¡¯t just a flicker. I felt my true strength¡­ It¡¯s something I can¡¯t control.¡± Angel (laughs): ¡°I wouldn¡¯t worry if I were you. You¡¯ll get stronger, and eventually, you¡¯ll be able to use it at will.¡± The angel studies Draven for a moment, then opens his cloak. Reaching deep¡ªas if it hides infinite space¡ªhe strains to pull something out. The realm trembles for a moment as the angel finally withdraws a sheathed sword. Angel: ¡°Take this. A parting gift.¡± Draven takes the sword and unsheathes it, revealing a deep, glistening red blade. Gripping the hilt, he feels the perfect weight of the weapon. Draven: ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a red blade before. What¡¯s special about it?¡± Angel: ¡°This sword is a reminder of who you are and what you will become¡­ Hand it to me for a moment.¡± Draven hands the sword over. The angel grips it firmly and, with all his power, slashes through the air. A nearby mountain splits in half. Angel (smiling): ¡°I had to show you the strength you¡¯ll need for the future.¡± Draven (shocked): ¡°You were holding back all these years? No wonder I could never beat you¡­ that''s crazy.¡± Angel: ¡°I never thought this day would come. When you finally leave this lonely realm, I will open a gateway called Bifr?st¡­ and say my final farewell.¡± The angel reveals his true form. Two more arms emerge from his body, wearing a white cloak trimmed with gold. A radiant ring appears above his head. Raising his arms, the sky shifts¡ªclouds gather, lightning crackles, and ominous thunder roars. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. The realm has never shaken this violently before. A beam of light descends from the heavens, crashing into the ground. Everything around it begins to crumble, yet the sight is breathtaking¡ªa pillar of radiant energy, wrapped in the hues of a rainbow, pulsing with overwhelming magic. Angel: ¡°This is it, Draven. The day has finally come¡ªyou¡¯re leaving for Midgard.¡± Draven gathers his belongings: his axe, a satchel, and the sword the angel gave him. Carrying both the axe and sword on his back, he takes a deep breath. Draven: ¡°I never thought I¡¯d feel this way after wanting to go to Midgard so badly.¡± Angel: ¡°Oh come on just think about the lovely women you¡¯ll be able to¡ª¡± Draven (laughs): "I mean if they what you say they are...I''ll always remember my time here.¡± Angel: ¡°You won''t be disappointed, before you go, point your blade toward me.¡± Draven unsheathes his sword and raises it in the angel¡¯s direction. The angel grasps the blade, and his blood begins to flow onto the steel. Angel: ¡°Bloed Desm¨®s. This is our bond¡­ I will miss you, Raphael Draven Tyr. Be on your way.¡± Draven: ¡°Thank you¡­ for everything you¡¯ve done for me, you damn angel.¡± Both smile and laugh, sharing one final moment before Raphael Draven Tyr turns away, stepping toward his destiny. As he walks into the Bifr?st, the shimmering pillar of light hums with energy, casting a radiant glow across the realm. Each step carries him further from the only home he has ever known, yet closer to the unknown world awaiting him. The angel watches in silence, his smile tinged with sorrow and pride. The realm trembles one last time as the Bifr?st envelops Draven in its brilliance, its celestial light swallowing him whole. And just like that, he is gone¡ªforever. The Bifr?st roars to life, splitting through the skies of Midgard like a celestial spear. A brilliant pillar of light crashes down in the heart of an unknown forest, its radiance swallowing the land in an otherworldly glow. The air trembles, trees bend under the sheer force of its descent, and the very fabric of the world seems to shudder as if recognizing the arrival of something beyond mortal comprehension. Then, just as suddenly as it came, the Bifr?st begins to fade. Its blinding luminance dims into soft golden embers, scattering like fireflies before vanishing entirely. In its place, a massive crest is burned into the earth¡ªa symbol not of gods, but of something else. Something new. As Draven steps forward, the world greets him. A deep, resonant hum fills the air¡ªnot of voices, but of Midgard itself. A hymn, ancient and sorrowful, rises like a whisper carried by the wind. It sings of expectation, of the weight upon his shoulders, of a fate yet unwritten. The melody shifts, sorrow lacing its edges, as if the world itself mourns what is to come. Draven stands still, listening, feeling. The hymn fades into the rustling leaves, leaving behind only the quiet murmurs of the forest. He exhales, gripping the sword at his back. He has arrived. As Draven takes in his surroundings, a rare silence overtakes him. Before him unfolds a landscape so vast and untamed that it seems almost unreal. Ribbons of rivers weave through the land like veins, converging at the edge of a towering waterfall that plunges into a deep gorge where a giant lake reflects the bitter sun. The air hums with life¡ªtrees sway with a grace. The sky stretches endlessly, as if Midgard exists beyond the reach of gods and their corruption, a world still pure, still free. Little did Draven know it was not so. Draven: ¡°God damn¡­ he sure wasn''t lying about this place.¡± His awe is short-lived. A sly grin creeps onto his face, his thoughts shifting. Draven (lewd face): ¡°Now, I wonder what the women are like.¡± He shakes his head, chuckling to himself. Draven: ¡°Well, I guess I should begin my journey.¡± But before he can take his first step, something stops him. A strange sensation hums beneath his feet, a pulse of undisturbed energy exuding from the earth itself. He kneels, brushing his fingers through the blades of grass. The moment his skin touches them, tiny orbs of light rise into the air¡ªglowing, weightless, dancing like fireflies before vanishing into the wind. His eyes narrow. This was different. His realm had never possessed something like this. He looks up, scanning the land once more, but now with a sharper gaze. That¡¯s when he sees them¡ªcreatures unlike anything from his world. Translucent, shifting, amorphous beings moving sluggishly across the ground. Their bodies jiggle with each small motion, reflecting the sunlight in mesmerizing ripples. Draven: ¡°What the hell are these things? Slime? They seem¡­ alive.¡± Curious, he reaches out and pokes one. It quivers. Then, without warning, it splits cleanly into two, each identical to the first. Draven blinks. Draven: ¡°¡­Alright, I did not expect that.¡± He stares at his finger, then at the multiplying slimes, and finally exhales. Draven: ¡°Midgard is already weird as hell.¡± The slimes avoid him, instead moving toward sources that emit a faint magical presence, feeding on the energy they absorb. Draven realizes that his movements feel lighter, as if the gravity in Midgard is weaker than what he is normally used to. Draven: "They live off this stuff¡­ I wonder what it is. I guess I¡¯ll have to find someone to talk to." Draven travels deeper into the forest, feeling as if the trees themselves are watching him. He continues walking, but a strange sense of repetition nags at him¡ªhe¡¯s passed the same boulder for the third time. Then, the trees come alive. Roots tear free from the ground, twisted limbs pulling themselves upward. One of them lunges at him from behind. Draven dodges effortlessly, a grin forming on his face. Draven (laughing): "I had a feeling it wouldn''t be smooth sailing¡­ Time to test this blade." As Draven prepares himself, he places his hand on the sword and draws it. Immediately, the trees sense his vast experience in battle. Without any difficulty, Draven swiftly defeats the tree sentinels. Draven: "That felt good. It¡¯s almost like this sword is adjusting to me." As he ventures deeper into the forest, an uneasy feeling settles over him. The other animals and beasts keep their distance from a certain area, and even the tree sentinels awkwardly avoid it, as if sensing something unnatural. Then, he sees it. Not too far ahead, a massive troll trudges forward, a lifeless deer slung over its back. Its heavy footsteps send tremors through the ground. Both Draven and the troll stop suddenly, locking eyes in tense silence. Draven (disgusted): "What the hell are you?"