She stood in a different age, wind of time tugging her sleeves; maybe the figure before her wasn’t truly Uroboros.

A chill pricked first, then thought exploded; Aphelia’s remade mind surged faster than before, like sparks racing through dry grass.

In a heartbeat, countless ideas streaked through her head, a flock of swallows she couldn’t possibly rein in.

“Don’t guess. I’m Uroboros.” Her voice had a playful lilt, like ripples on moonlit water. “I woke earlier for… special reasons. Saw a war, came to lend a hand.”

Uroboros owned it without a blink, mischief glinting in her eyes as she watched Aphelia, waiting for the splash of her reaction.

Aphelia’s chest tightened, words stumbling like pebbles on a slope. “B-but…”

“No buts. You’ve got heavier stones to lift, don’t you?”

Uroboros flicked a glance at Odin, then darted behind Aphelia like a shadow slipping under a tree, her gaze weighing both of them.

“Relax. My soul-source still rests in your sea of consciousness. You’re safe.”

Resignation came first, then a small helpless smile; Aphelia shrugged and looked to Odin.

“Seems she really is your backup. But this darkness... it feels like cold tidewater.”

Odin studied the Uroboros behind Aphelia, brow tightening like a storm front; then, seeing Aphelia’s state, she let sunlight into her smile.

“Forget it. As long as you’re safe, Aphelia.”

Blinding Thunder thinned into the air like mist after rain. Odin patted her shoulder and eyed the Silvery Armor, a subtle curve touching her lips, an Azure gleam flickering in her gaze.

Heat rose, then unease; Aphelia felt stripped by a clear wind, as if Odin’s sight brushed every seam of her.

Her voice drew taut like a bowstring. “What happened just now? Why were so many giants attacking you?”

“Leave first, talk later.” Odin’s tone was low, like night water. “The giants sent legions to hunt me. If they sense anything off, more champions will come.”

Heaviness landed first, then urgency; Odin looked around at the blooming blood-flowers on soil and stone, and spoke fast.

“Right… but we can’t go back to the forest.” Aphelia’s throat cooled like iron. “Where’s safe, Odin?”

“Come with me. I know a place.”

Azure Aether flowered at her side and sharpened into a spear of light, then streaked afar like a comet.

Aphelia and Uroboros met eyes, a spark passing; they roused their Aether and followed along Odin’s bright trail.

Even at their near–thousand-league pace, they flew almost a whole day, crossing a long ocean like a slate of night, before reaching Odin’s safe haven.

Ruin rose before them, desolate as bone under winter sun.

Led by Odin, they entered the ruins. A vast ward of Aether unfurled, like glass bells settling over them, and their chests eased.

“Since your power’s back, Aphelia, I need to tell you how this world now stands.”

Warmth steadied her first, then focus; Aphelia nodded. “Go on. I’m all ears.”

Odin sat before them, placed a golden fruit in each palm, and began to speak, voice like embers.

Aphelia hesitated, lips cooling; Uroboros had no qualms and simply absorbed the fruit, essence and all, leaving a thin peel like shed skin.

Her eerie power turned the fruit’s force into flesh, satisfaction softening her face; clearly, it wasn’t a common fruit.

“Until shortly before you arrived, the old order held.” Odin’s words fell like slow rain. “The Asgardian Realm sheltered humans, fought giants, guarded the World Tree, and kept the world turning.”

“Recently, humans struck some bargain with giants.” Her jaw hardened like granite. “They drove giant legions into the Asgardian Realm. They wielded a strange force, and our Rune power couldn’t match it. As realm’s lord, I… failed to return in time, for reasons from my past.”

A bitter smile ghosted her lips, like frost on steel.

“Sometimes I regret my childishness, yet there’s no medicine for regret. Not being there spared me a calamity.”

“If I’d stood there with only Runes, I’d likely have choked on regret and died.”

Compassion rose first, then resolve; Aphelia’s voice warmed. “You still have a chance to change it, don’t you? I’ll help you. Uroboros… will help too.”

Aphelia sent Uroboros a gentle look; Uroboros sighed like a tired tide and nodded.

“Mm… Aphelia, thank you.” Odin’s gratitude was a quiet flame. “I’m sorry I dragged you in. Without you, I’d have died in that forest, and wouldn’t hold this power.”

Aether gathered in Odin’s hand like spun silk; though newly claimed, she wove it with the ease of an old artisan.

“Do you have a plan to take back your realm?” Aphelia’s tone settled like stone.

“I do. A first draft.” Odin stilled, Azure eyes softening like dusk. “Your earlier answer burned hot. What comes now is near-certain death.”

Hope glowed first, then restraint; she seemed to want an answer, yet not want to ask.

“Will you join me in this mad vengeance? Even if death is the likely gate?”

“Of course. Even if it’s nine chances to die, one to live.”

Aphelia smiled without a tremor, and Uroboros shook her head, amused like wind in tall grass.

Odin’s eyes blurred, like glass fogged by breath; she lowered her face and hid the moment.

“Then my plan begins with the shape of this world.”

Azure Aether lifted them in an instant to the sky’s dome; from tens of thousands of meters up, they looked down on the living map.

“We stand on the first layer of this world.” Her hand swept the horizon like a wing. “The uppermost level, where the Asgardian Realm stands—the crown of the World Tree.”

“This was once Valhalla, palace of the einherjar.” Her voice dimmed like overcast sun. “Now it lies in ruin. As the tier most bathed in the World Tree’s power, the Aesir can draw Runes by birthright. We rose to lead, balancing humans and giants.”

At Valhalla’s name, Odin’s face shadowed, then steadied; she pointed toward the ocean they had crossed, a slab of dark glass.

“That’s the Sea of the Underworld.” Her words chilled like night spray. “It was my kin Hela’s domain. She fell asleep tens of millennia ago. No call can wake her. But if anyone invades those waters, they’ll learn what ‘Underworld’ means.”

Aphelia swallowed her question about seeking Hela’s aid, the thought sinking like a stone; she glanced at the somber ocean, and without Odin’s words, she’d never have guessed its funereal depth.

Uroboros yawned like a cat by the hearth, unbothered.

Seeing that, Odin led them over the sea to the forest they’d known. From high above, clarity cut in; every colossal tree cradled faint lights like lanterns in fog.

Softness came first; Odin’s Azure eyes warmed. “This is Alfheim, realm of the fae. I hid there because they’re friendly to the Aesir.”

“When giants first invaded, the gentle fae were powerless in open battle. Under their queen, they chose sleep as the price.” Her voice drifted like leaves. “They raised a ward to shield the Aesir, severing giants from humans.”

Sorrow rippled first; Odin sighed. If that ward still held, she wouldn’t have been found or cornered.

“I don’t know how they fare. Their queen hid them from giant and human eyes. I only hope they’re unharmed.”

A long breath, then motion; Odin guided them to the Golden Plain, waves of wheat like frozen sunlight.

“This needs little telling. I first met Aphelia on this Golden Plain.” Her gaze burned like a furnace. “It stands for harvest and plenty. It’s the field that sustains the Aesir. But giant blood polluted it. Who knows when it’ll heal.”

Pain rose first, then iron resolve; Aphelia sighed. Such deep-cut hatred will be paid in blood. Till giants are torn to shreds, the grudge won’t sleep.

“And there, in the distance, the Asgardian Realm.” Odin’s voice narrowed like a blade. “We can’t spook giant champions. We won’t drop into the realm unannounced.”

Following her line, they saw golden palaces standing in the far light, like suns cased in stone.

With Aphelia’s and Uroboros’s keen sight, few things ever hid. Yet those palaces wore a strange sheen—either the realm cloaked them, or some blessing guarded that gold.