“Aphelia! I admit you’re a mighty warrior. Your name will echo forever in Asgard. From now on, Asgard has no Valkyries—only Aphelia!”

Odin’s eyes were pale blue like winter sky; the earnest weight in them didn’t waver. Aphelia, fingers clamped on Sigdrifa’s throat, blinked, then let out a helpless smile like thawing frost.

He finished speaking, then took the two and stepped into the rift, sure-footed as a mountain cutting into stormcloud.

“Don’t regret this…”

As his silhouette slid into the crack’s ink-black mouth, Aphelia breathed the words like mist fading at dusk.

The pull ahead swelled like a tide; the Crimson Fire guttered against it like a candle in gale. In moments, the rift would drink her down. Its depths felt like a thicket of knives, but so what? Her nemesis was already in her grip; all she had to do was drag her in.

“Aphelia, you know what to do. I can’t aid you anymore…”

On the golden clock, three hands drew together like migrating birds converging. The Reaper’s outline broke into shards, flowing into the golden afterimage like sparks into a forge.

“Mm. I understand.”

Her steady answer fell like a stone into calm water. The Reaper relaxed as if setting down a scythe, closed her eyes like folding night, and shattered completely. Ash scattered and vanished with the golden clock’s ghost, like stars snuffed at dawn.

Aphelia watched the Reaper and Odin depart. She faced the rift, and a smile bloomed like a winter flower.

If this is the final way to kill Sigdrifa…

For a heartbeat, her chest felt unbound, like chains falling into grass.

The Crimson Fire went dark, the dazzling Bracer Gauntlets faded like fireflies at daybreak. She stopped channeling power; the rift’s pull took her whole. She slipped into the black seam, dragging Sigdrifa, both erased like ink washed by rain.

In the instant she didn’t notice, a pure-white silhouette that had been split away clung to her back like quiet frost.

With their disappearance, the black crack closed like a healed wound. Niflheim stilled; everything broken returned, like a mirror reformed, as if nothing had ever happened.

Beneath the World Tree’s roots, a pure-white figure stepped from a weave of threads, like snow walking out of cobweb light.

“I… what is this? Shouldn’t I have already—”

Urd stared at her untouched body, whispering in surprise like a leaf catching wind. She lifted her gaze across whole Niflheim, and bitterness rose like brine in her throat.

“You still chose that road…”

In the endless void, as Aphelia was swallowed, her five senses went dark like lamps in rain. Time slipped like sand. Pain spiked in her skull, and she felt life again like a spark catching tinder.

“…”

Something breathed by her ear, like water under stone.

“Ao…”

Is that… calling me?

“Aphelia…”

The whisper struck her shore like a wave. She woke. Warm afternoon sunlight poured on her face like honey. She sat at a desk; girls in matching uniforms rippled around her like a field of lilies. A mature woman at the front called her name, brows knit like tight thread.

Warmth held her like a blanket, and an ache of déjà vu yawned like an old canyon. The drop between worlds stunned her; she sat there, adrift.

The teacher sighed, tapped the desk with her pointer like rain on wood, and kept her tone flat.

“Aphelia, this is the fifth time you’ve slept in my class this week. Go stand in the back. I’m sure you’ll be eager to talk after.”

Asleep in class? The fifth time this week?

Wait. What’s happening to me? Illusion like heat-haze? Or a brand-new time, like a door in fog?

“Sorry, ma’am… could I ask what day it is?”

The teacher almost laughed from anger, like steam escaping a kettle. She stared at Aphelia, helpless, then answered.

“It’s July 15th, 2100. Our dear Aphelia. Did you sleep-travel? Need me to wake you up?”

Travel… then maybe that’s it…

She thought it like a pebble in a pond. She stood, whispered an apology, and walked to the back under a rustle of whispers, like sparrows in eaves.

Silver hair drifted over her shoulders like moonlight, messy enough to veil her eyes. She didn’t care. Black irises swept the room like a night tide.

Here, there was no war.

Fearing it was a mirage, she peeked through her hair like leaves. The girls were neatly dressed; their hands held no weapon-calluses, only soft palms like petals. Most of all… besides a thin breath of Aether in the air, no other power stirred, like a lake without wind.

The girls chatted and laughed, glancing back with teasing glints like foxfire. On the platform, the teacher kept shooting looks at Aphelia, sighing, then continued her lesson like a brook that won’t stop.

Is this ordinary to them, this life, like bread and sun?

It was just a class, yet Aphelia closed her eyes and floated in its quiet like a leaf on water. After the bell, she followed the teacher to the “office.” She promised many things she barely grasped, like signing in a dream, and was finally released.

The sky stayed blue like enamel. The air held no blood.

Her old strength lingered like embers. When no one watched, she vaulted to the rooftop like a shadow. She leaned on the railing; sunlight spilled through her fingers like sand. She stretched her battle-sore body, and a soft sigh escaped like steam from tea.

Peace pooled around her; faint birdsong trembled like silver wire. The breeze stroked her cheek like a palm. She closed her eyes and folded her senses and power away, like sheathing a blade, an ordinary girl for a breath.

She was so tired. Bone-tired.

Mind and flesh had never rested, like drums beaten without end. Wherever she went, it was fight, then fight, then fight, like waves against rock. She couldn’t slip. One slip, and she fell; the taste of blood and dust clung like a second skin.

First the Demon King, then the Eldritch Gods, then Sigdrifa…

The once-ignorant youth had walked so far, like a road unrolling under moon. When she looked back, only dark red stained the path, and everything had changed like seasons.

Betrayal. Plots.

She remembered too much, like drawers flying open.

Since fate set me in a world this peaceful, if there’s a god, I beg you—let me rest a while, like a stone in shade.

Under warm sun and soft wind, she closed her eyes by the rail like a cat in a beam. Sleep began to bloom—until the rooftop door burst open like a kicked drum. A wine-red-haired girl sprinted over like a spark.

Habit woke like a coiled spring. Aphelia’s eyes snapped open, fist lifting like a hammer. Before she could move, a breath of fragrance brushed her, like flowers in rain.

“I heard that old spinster dragged you to the office. You okay, Aphelia? She didn’t bully you, right?”

Aphelia stared at the girl, and light filmed her eyes like dew.

“Hey, hey, say something. Don’t tell me you’re scared stupid—eh?”

The red-haired girl found herself crushed in a tight hug, warm as a hearth. Feeling Aphelia tremble against her chest, she froze, then sank down and hugged back. She stroked that long hair, gentle as tide, and murmured.

“It’s okay now, Aphelia. It’s okay…”

As if the bloody fights and edge-of-death scrambles were only a dream, like smoke in morning. Only the girl in front of her was real, like earth underfoot.

If there is a god, then hear me pray. Even if this is a dream, let me dwell a little longer in this light.

“Vio… let…”

Aphelia couldn’t hold her heart together; tears fell like beads from a broken string. She wanted to speak, but her lips shook like leaves.

“I’m right here, Aphelia…”

Violet had never seen Aphelia break like this. She combed her hair with soft fingers, as if lifting weight from her shoulders like snow from a branch.

They held each other, wordless, like two trees leaning in the same wind. From different times, yet hearts answering like echoes.

Aphelia the Hero had walked so far. It was time to stop, wasn’t it? The load on her back was a mountain; it had crushed her heart long ago. Numbness alone carried her, like a ghost walking.

Meeting Violet again in this strange world shattered the dam. Feeling spilled without brakes, like spring flood.

Time blurred. A minute. An hour. Two. Who knew? Aphelia only knew she cried herself empty, like rain wrung from clouds. Before Violet, she shed every guard like armor falling.

She slept in Violet’s arms, as if nothing could touch her while Violet watched, like a lantern at night. Stored fatigue burst open—mind and body—like a dike giving way. In that warmth, she wished to sleep there forever, like roots in earth. And yet she wished to wake soon, to look longer at Violet’s face and smile, like a pilgrim at dawn.