Story One: Gruff
Mount Aetna
Hephaestus' Workshop
Long Ago
In the middle of the day, Hephaestus sat at a metal desk, busily typing away on a hard-light keyboard with his left hand, his eyes scanning the hard-light screen in front of him. In his right hand, he was twirling a hammer as the image slowly came into focus. Behind him, in the center of the workshop, on an old, torn-up couch, was Baldr. He looked the same as he did in his future battle with Samson: short and blonde with black eyes and yellow irises. His hair buzzed at the sides, with the remaining hair held in a pristine top-knot that matched the careful care of his trimmed, thick moustache. His upper body was bare, but he wore a pair of thick brown shin-high boots and blue pants held up by a brown belt. Hephaestus turned in his swiveling stool to him as the image finished loading, revealing a gray, mechanical arm.
"Is this what you asked for?" Hephaestus asked. Baldr rose and walked over to the monitor. He glanced at it and nodded.
"Perfect, but the color may need work," Baldr answered.
"Color? The hell does color have to do with it?"
"That arm is depressing as hell. No one would wear that."
"Nuada wears one in that same shade!"
"Nuada also dresses up in armor and only shows the hand. This will be front and center all the time, so it needs to look amazing."
Hephaestus blinked at him. "…You're serious?"
Baldr nodded. "'Course I'm serious. Make it gold. I think gold suits him."
Hephaestus shook his head as he typed away on the screen. He tapped one last button, and the gray slowly turned into a glossed gold. Baldr nodded and grew a smug grin under his moustache.
"Lord, that's gaudy as hell."
"But it's perfect."
"Sure…" Hephaestus turned back around. "Alright, payment."
Baldr pulled out his tablet and tapped on it a few times. A notification popped up on Hephaestus' monitor. "There, as promised. Dwarven runic smithing techniques, along with my research notes. Heard the stubborn bastards kept it from you despite the goodwill you offered."
"They're probably upset about my changes to your gauntlets." Hephaestus opened the notification and made a light snort. "Nice…"
"Yeah, they can right fuck off for all I care." Baldr pulled out a small silver tube and wiggled it in his hand. "Those modifications you made make it possible to carry them around without issue."
"You're welcome, by the way."
"I thanked you then, Ass. I'm not ungrateful."
Hephaestus smirked. "And make sure you stay that way." Hephaestus straightened up on his stool. "Who's the arm for?"
"Týr."
"We got medical equipment up here that regrows limbs. Why the hell does he want a prosthetic? Why's he not askin'?"
"Personal reasons, and would you ask the dad of your crush's best friend to make you an arm? It'd look like he's trying to suck up to you and Pan."
"Uh-huh. That's what it is." He turned back to face Baldr. "You know, I could decline this if you're not shootin' straight with me. I'm doin' you a favor since you got me that info, but this arm you're askin' for is a custom project—"
"Don't play that with me. All your shit's custom. It's your slogan."
"Damn right, it is. My point is, Týr's goin' to the bottom of the list of six hundred customers if you don't tell me why I should put it above guys like Susano'o or Huitzilopochtli."
Baldr sighed. "Not even the data gets him to the top?"
"Top two hundred at best."
"Ass...," Baldr whispered. "Fine, I convinced him." Hephaestus leaned back and wore a bewildered expression. "Look, Týr was in bad shape after the last battle with the Jotnar. Lots of pissing and moaning about not being up to snuff with Thor and me."
"Or Vidarr."
"Fuck Vidarr. He and the rest of our crapshoot family are half the damn reason Týr's so hard on himself. The other's Brünhilde."
"Puppy love."
"Don't start that. Anyways, I…may have recommended wearing the prosthetic instead of regrowing his arm as a way to…take ownership of his screw-up instead of hiding it. That way, no one else can use it against him." Hephaestus eyed him. "What?"
"Sentimental shit," Hephaestus smiled. "You like to act tough and rugged, but you're still the soft-hearted, pretty boy you've always been!"
"Oy, bite me!"
"Mr. Hot-body Heaven here! 'Course, back then you had long hair and didn't wear that god-awful moustache."
"It took four years to grow this, and it is exquisite."
"Pan's still pissed at you for beating her in that beauty contest as kids!"
"…I only got pulled into that, because Hilde thought I looked like a girl! Lord, she had a dress picked out…" Hephaestus burst out laughing, dropping his hammer. It clanged on the floor as he slapped his desk. He started tearing up a little. "Stop laughing," Baldr said barely above a whisper.
The laughter slowly died, and Hephaestus wiped a tear out of his left eye. "Ah…sorry, bud. Sore spot for you, still?"
"How'd you like being called the pretty one when your older brothers are the strongest Norse Warriors? Fuck, not even getting Svalinn's Shield changed anything. Not even cutting my hair or growing this exquisite moustache changed anything." Baldr pointed both index fingers at his face
"Better than bein' an ugly cripple." Baldr's eyes widened, meeting Hephaestus'.
"The hell, man? I'm not here trying to one-up you in misery."
"I'm not, either, genius. However, those shits don't hold a candle to us. Laugh and jeer all they want; they couldn't do what you did saving Týr, or outdo me here."
"I know that, but still—"
"Hey, whose opinion matters? Theirs or Týr's?"
Baldr looked off to the side for a moment, then looked to the ground. "That dumbass'."
"There ya go. A pretty boy can be a warrior, and an ugly cripple a genius." Hephaestus rose. "Now I'm goin' to get started on this. I should have it ready with the stuff you gave me in a day or so."
"Really?"
"If…what you gave ain't shit."
Baldr shook his head, smiling. "Bite me, ya old shit." Baldr turned around and walked to the workshop's entrance. He pulled open the door and passed through, closing it behind him. Hephaestus turned back to the monitor, eyeing the arm as the Tiwaz Rune appeared on the top-right of the screen.
"Worrywart. Now…how do I want to do this?"
Story Two: Wedding Gift
Valhalla
Esagila
Far from Mount Aetna and a few millennia later, at the floating tower Esagila, a great hurdle had arisen within the household of Marduk and Sarpanitu. Despite the illustrious, yet simple, stone tower from which one could see all of the Heavens being the object of envy for many Gods across many Pantheons, for one God, it became a near-unbearable Hell.
High up in the tower's upper floors, in a large open room lined with massive open windows and no furniture, stood that aged, suffering God. His long black hair was disheveled and sticking out at odd ends, his white robes hung haphazardly off his body, barely held on by a blue sash. His olive skin looked like it barely held his body together as his bloodshot eyes squinted at the other, older, white-haired God in blue robes who stood across from him.
"Marduk," Metatron said. "I am guessing your anniversary night was…fun?"
"Ugh…" Marduk groaned. "Maybe? I can barely remember it….Hold on…" He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes. "I think I saw Nergal and a few of the guys in a drinking contest with one of the servants."
"And you joined them."
"Maybe, I don't know."
"No, I am saying you did. I saw you run over there after your dances with Sarpa and join them. Got to say, not a great way to celebrate a wedding anniversary by losing to one of the help in a drinking contest."
"That…yeah…" Marduk sighed. "How pissed was Sarpa?"
"I do not know." Metatron looked out to the horizon somberly.
"Oh no…"
"She ran right after you and joined you. She outlasted all of you, except the servant."
Marduk blinked his bloodshot eyes a few times. "Wait, wha?"
"You seem to forget water deities have an absurd tolerance for alcohol. She was finishing up a run as I arrived."
Marduk grumbled.
"For what it is worth, you definitely lucked out with her." Metatron smiled. "She meshes well with you."
"Can't deny I'm a lucky guy, though there'd be two if you'd talk some of the ladies giving you the eyes last night."
"I am a widow. Only one woman had ever had my heart, and she is all I will ever need." He heard footsteps echoing from the staircase to his right. "Many are not so lucky. Cherish her," He whispered.
Marduk nodded as a barefoot Sarpanitu ran into the room. Her silver hair was done in a braid, and she wore a sleeveless gray shirt and blue, cuffed pants. Her blue eyes darted from Metatron to Marduk and back. "Am I late?" She asked.
"Nope. We were just shooting the breeze for a moment." Metatron turned to face the couple. "Now that you are both here, it is time…" Metatron's smile widened as an excited look grew across his face. "For your wedding present!"
The couple exchanged glances, with one slightly suffering more than the other, and looked back at Metatron. "Uh…okay? Where is it?" Sarpa asked. "Is it more words of wisdom? Cause you gave us a lot of those back when we got married."
"Snark: a lesser's attempt at humor. You are better than that, Sarpa." Sarpa shot him a quick, listless leer, but Metatron looked unfazed. "Moving on, I started talking with Buddha recently, and he showed me a technique that amazed me: Samavadhāna, or Common Destiny. It is a technique for allies to share their power. I thought to myself, 'Who would love such a technique?' And I thought of you two."
"Uh…okay?" Marduk said. "But why now, and why a wedding present? Kind of late for that."
"Yes," Metatron cleared his throat. "In my alone time, I have done a great deal of thinking, and I did you two a disservice." Metatron rubbed his hands together. "When Tiamat and Apsu attacked your homeland eons ago, I said some rather harsh words to you in the hopes you would see that Ea needed you back here rather than picking fights with Zeus. I failed to see that you were stuck between your desires to aid your father and your responsibility as an heir to keep the Pantheon alive, should anything happen, and I mistook that you were acting like a stupid, spoiled brat."
"Kind of harsh, but I didn't do myself any favors. I should have fought harder to tell my dad he needed me back then. No harm done!" Marduk said, trying his hardest to smile despite the sun's rays starting to shine into the room and his eyes. "Blasted sun…" He murmured.
"Fair, but I carry some of that, too. Especially," He looked over to Sarpanitu. "since it wasn't just the two of you anymore." Metatron clasped his hands together as he exchanged a soft glance with her. "So I wish to make that up to you by helping you two learn a technique that will prove that your love is not only a genuine blessing, but a power that none can rival…and make up for the fact that I forgot to get you two a real wedding present. May I?"
The couple locked eyes, and Marduk reached out his hand. Sarpanitu took it in hers. "We will be able to fight together?" Marduk asked
"And be all the stronger for it."
"My Moon and Stars." Sarpanitu blushed at the name. "I want to keep my promise to you, and I think this may be the best way possible." He turned to face her and took her other hand in his. "Will you? With me? Again…and for the first time?"
She smiled softly. "If I didn't, you'd still get into fights, my Sun."
"Yeah!" He smiled, his gaze softening despite the sun's rays. "But with you I'd win them."
She sighed. "Then let's do it." The two let go of each other and turned back to Metatron. "So, how does this work, exactly?"
Story Three: Preparation
Einherjar Barracks
Leo's Workshop
Six Months Before Ragnarök
Deep within the Barracks for Humanity's soon-to-be champions, a small cadre found themselves within a vast, well-lit hangar. Its walls were lined with various massive machines of different shapes and sizes, and at the foot of the one closest to the hangar's elevator was a large assortment of gym equipment ranging from free weights, weight machines, benches, cable machines, and treadmills.
Standing with this large assortment of equipment to his back was Leonardo Da Vinci in black sweat pants, yellow tennis shoes, and a yellow hoodie, his red hair tied back in a ponytail. Across from him stood Ghulam Butt, Li Shuwen, Teddy Roosevelt, Yi Sun-sin, Johannes Lichtenauer, Arash, and Samson. All of them wore the same outfit as Leo.
"Greetings, Gentlemen!" Leo said, trying to sound confident. "Thank you all for accepting my offer to meet today—"
"Why did you say we needed to wear these outfits?" Yi asked.
"Huh?"
"You sent these to us, saying we needed to wear these before we arrived. I had to convince Li and Johannes to wear them."
"…Team-building?"
"Works for me!" Teddy said, flexing his muscles under the hoodie. Yi sighed despondently.
"What's the point of this?" Li asked, squinting at Leo. Leo could see him fidgeting slightly in the outfit.
"Ah! Fair. I wanted all of us to have a chance to meet before any of us were selected."
"If we're selected," Lichtenauer added. He looked over at Li and smirked slightly. Worth wearing this to make you squirm a bit! He thought.
"…Yes, if. So, allow me to start things off! I'm Leonardo Da Vinci, Italian Polymath."
Arash waved his hand up. "Hi! Arash Kamangir: Soldier in Shah Manuchehr's Army and defender of Persia."
Teddy clapped his hands. "Theodore 'Teddy' Roosevelt, gents. 26th President of the United States of America."
Yi looked over at him and smirked. "I am Yi Sun-sin. Admiral in the Korean Navy and Duke Chungmu."
"This is ridiculous," Li whispered.
Ghulam snorted and flexed his muscles. "I am Ghulam Mohammad Baksh Butt. Kushti of Punjabi, India. I am more known as the Great Gama!" He flexed his muscles, stretching the fabric. Tadakatsu whistled. Ghulam looked over at Li and Johannes, staring blankly at them without blinking. The silence in the air dragged on until Johannes sighed.
"Fine…I am Johannes Lichtenauer. I am a Fencing Master from Lichtenau, Germany, and the creator of the Zettels, which none of you will get unless you earn them."
"Wow…a swordsman," Samson said, twirling his right index finger in the air. "Impressive…"
"And you?" Johannes leered at him.
"Samson. Judge of Israel," He answered, wearing a smug grin.
"Ah, that explains the attitude," Johannes remarked.
"The hell you say—" Tadakatsu cut in between them.
"Honda Tadakatsu." He poked his left bicep with his right thumb." Daimyo of the Ōtaki Domain and Vassal to Tokugawa Ieyasu. Oh! And from Japan."
All of them turned to Li, who met their gazes. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I am Li Shuwen of Cangzhou, of the Heibei Province in China. Bajiquan master, and unless there's a point to this besides introductions, I am leaving."
"Please wait, Li-Sifu," Leo said. Li raised an eyebrow, but Leo could not tell if he had just insulted or respected him. "I called you guys here because I need help." He pulled up his hoodie and white undershirt, revealing his flat stomach. "I…am not ready for Ragnarök. I know nothing's set in stone, but I know we are among the candidates. I signed up because I want to protect Humanity and give it a chance the Gods don't give a damn about. But I admit I don't know the first thing about fighting, or physical training, or weapons. So I called you all here to teach and train me…if you're willing."
Li exhaled and turned around. "I decline. I can't teach you anything within such a short span of time." He started walking towards the elevator. "The others are better-suited for this."
"Same," Johannes added. "A sword in your hand is more of a danger to you than a God. However, I do applaud your resolve. Gents, I have a feeling," He looked at the other six, "he's in good hands." Johannes turned and started walking to catch up to Li.
Leo looked at the others, doubt showing on his face. "…What do you say?"
"You're serious, huh?" Samson said, stepping up to him. He looked down at Leo, standing over forty centimeters taller than him. Samson nodded. "That's what I'm talking about."
"Forget those two old dogs," Ghulam added. A quick burst of aura from near the elevator shot out. "Think one of them heard me," He said, smirking.
"I don't think I can teach you how to use a bow, but I think I can show you routines and such I used to build my strength!" Arash added.
"I'd appreciate that," Leo said, smiling.
"No, you won't after you do this for a while!" Arash grew a snide grin.
Tadakatsu walked over to Leo and rested his massive hand on his massive hand on his shoulder. "We're a team now, and we're going to help you with whatever you need. However, I do think we deserve some compensation."
"Don't worry. I'm already on that," Leo said. He pulled out a tablet and tapped on the screen, bringing up a file. "In this file is a list of schematics I've been working on for each of us. Brünhilde has a plan to get us weapons, but if you guys are willing to work with me, I think we can brainstorm some ideas to make your weapons much more powerful." The elevator groaned to life in the distance.
"As long as the bow doesn't break, I'm game," Arash added.
"Fantastic! So what should we do first?"
"Oh, none of that," Ghulam added.
"Huh?"
"We're going outside. Can't work in here. It's too…stifling."
"Couldn't agree more," Samson added.
"Huh?" Leo repeated.
"Alright, where should we go?" Tadakatsu asked. Teddy and Yi exchanged wry, but devious, smiles.
"Got a place I train not too far from here," Ghulam added. He looked over at Leo. "Anyone got an issue with me overseeing all this?"
"Huh?" Leo repeated, color now fading from his face. They all shook their heads, and Ghulam grew a wild, nasty grin and look in his eye. "Oh, no."
Up in the rafters, far from the polymath and his newly regretted choices, Hohenheim looked down at the group of muscular juggernauts leading their newest friend to the recently returned elevator. He pursed his lips, trying not to laugh. To his right, in his purple suit, sky-blue shirt, and brown derby, was Saint Germain, carefully eyeing the group.
"I think Leo's going to regret his choice," Hohenheim said. "Don't you?"
"At the start, probably, but he'll get used to it," Saint Germain answered without looking away from them.
Hohenheim looked over at him. "That's a look I've seen a lot."
"Hmmm?"
"Nostalgia. Does it remind you of something?"
Saint Germain blinked a few times. "Better days. Knew a rowdy bunch like them," Saint Germain said, smiling. "It's a nice surprise."
Hohenheim smiled. "Good! You need to be a bit more positive. Why not join—"
"Oh, that's not happening."
Hohenheim shrugged his shoulders. "Alright, but don't say I didn't recommend anything." He stepped back a few steps. "Want to get some coffee? Could kill for a cup right now."
Saint Germain looked over at him. "That sounds like a plan. My treat." The two started walking to the entrance and departed the workshop.
Story Four: Sit Down
Einherjar Barracks
Hohenheim's Lab
Two Weeks after Leo's Regret
A few weeks later, back in the massive laboratory lined with tall shelves full of glass instruments and an assortment of chemicals, Hohenheim and Brünhilde were busy at work. Hohenheim was reading the contents of a vanilla folder while leaning against one of his cleared-off tables. Two large piles of vanilla folders sat behind him on the table, while Brünhilde was busy typing away at a monitor to his right.
"Hilde, how long have you spent researching these people?" Hohenheim asked, looking in the folder. "Some of these guys and gals are…interesting."
"A few years now," Brünhilde answered. "Some of them I've had in the back of my mind for a while, but the more digging I did, the more I found."
"Hmmm…Dandara dos Palmares…Revolutionary and Capoeirista." His eyes darted around for a moment. "Randgriz? Hlökk? Alvitr?"
"That's what I was thinking too, but there's competition for those three, and I have to take into consideration who the Gods may choose."
"Hmm. I see." He put the folder on top of one pile, then grabbed the top one from the other and opened it. "Julie d'Aubigny La Maupin? Her?"
"I need a strong sword master. It's between her, Okita Souji, and Johannes Lichtenauer. If Oya gets picked, she's going."
"I don't know who that is, but I trust your judgment." He closed the folder and placed it on the other pile. He sighed and nodded his head. "Hilde, why am I here?"
Brünhilde looked up at Hohenheim and stood. "Doctor, I need your help. These two piles are all the possible candidates I collected to build our Roster, and I need you to look through them and help me pick the ones you think would be best."
"Hilde, you flatter me, but I am woefully underequipped and unqualified for this."
"You say that, but there's something you possess that makes you perfect for it."
"How easy I am to buy off with coffee?" A slight clink occurred behind Hohenheim. He turned and saw Mist holding a tray and placing a steaming cup on the table a meter away from the folders. She smiled and walked over to Brünhilde. Hohenheim grew a defeated smile. "Mist, you're exceptional but not helping!"
"I try," She answered as she placed another cup next to Brünhilde before she took her own off the tray and sipped it.
"And so you succeed," Hohenheim said, grabbing his cup.
"Not that, but it does help. It's more about your ability to read people. Your focus on studying alchemy and medicine gives you a perspective on people that few can match. I need you to use that skill to interview each of these fighters and determine their viability how they would mesh with my sisters."
"I feel kind of like a matchmaker. You sure Freud or Jung wouldn't be better suited? I'm an alchemist, not a psychiatrist or psychoanalyst."
"No one reads people with the level of grace and kindness you do." Brünhilde took a sip. She immediately spat it out. "What is this?!"
"Kaffegök," Mist answered before draining her cup.
"Yes, it's gross, but what's called?!"
"Kaffegök," Hohenheim answered. "It's a Swedish drink made with coffee and schnapps." Hohenheim sniffed it, then drained the cup. He smacked his lips before he shook like a bolt of lightning shot up his body. "Oh…that's strong! Thank you, Mist!"
"Not to your liking, Hilde?" Mist asked. "I thought it would be perfect since you like Salmiak Pies."
"Now that sounds like a treat!" Hohenheim said.
"Ugh…not right now," Brünhilde said.
"Hilde." Brunhilde looked at Hohenheim. "You're asking me to pick people whom we intend to send to die. To fight with your sisters at their sides. There are at least one hundred sixty options here. You're asking a lot of me, and I don't know if I quite agree with you about my qualifications."
"I trust you," She answered, smiling.
"I know you do, but if you want me to do this, I need something from you."
"What?"
"After I do my comb, I want you to go through these with your sisters. They deserve a say in who they pair up with, and may die with." He glanced over at Mist. "You're a family and a team. This is where you get to show what it means when the Gods underestimate the Valkyries."
Brünhilde smiled softly. "What makes you think I wouldn't do that?"
"Your Habits." He smiled. "Plus, I wanted to say it. I'm in your corner, Hilde."
She nodded. "Then I'll leave you to it. Looking forward to it!" She walked past the two, headed towards the lab's entry, and departed.
"She's still trying too hard," Mist said.
"It comes with being the oldest. I've seen it a lot."
"Will she be okay?" Mist looked back at the entrance. "I know I can worry myself into a mess, but it's Hilde. She's a lot like our dad: carrying things alone because she feels like a failure if she can't."
"That's a dangerous mindset, and poisons the soul in one of the worst ways possible with love. Self-destructive love." Hohenheim turned to the piles. "Guess I should start."
"I'll get more Kaffegök and help you."
"A Saint as always, Mist." Mist blushed a little at the compliment.
"Let's see…" He grabbed the next folder. "Michel Nostra—nope. Nope. Hell, no." He snapped the folder shut and placed it on the other pile. "My God, Hilde. Him? Who's next, Vlad the Impaler?" He grabbed the next folder and opened it. "…Well, I set myself up for that one…"
Story Five: Sorority
Valhalla
Eastern Chapel
Four Months Before Ragnarök
"Rommie, do you think they'll come?" Skalmöld asked, standing outside the chapel, Romulus by her side. Brünhilde stood a few meters in front of them with her back to them, staring out into the open field.
"I'd like to think so, but you never know. It's a wild plan, and I'd think you'd be pulling my leg if anyone suggested it besides Hilde," Romulus whispered. "Declaring Ragnarök? A rational person would think it's just delaying the inevitable."
"When have we been rational?" Skalmöld asked, smiling coyly.
"Can't argue with you there." They looked out in the same direction Brünhilde did, and caught sight of nearly a dozen figures in the distant sky. "I think that's them." He kissed Skalmöld on the crown of her head. "I'll be inside with Georgios if you need me."
"Why would I—wait, Geir's coming. Along with Hlökk and Alvitr…yeah, please be ready."
"Deal." He turned around and walked into the chapel as the figures flew closer.
Skalmöld walked up and stopped next to Brünhilde. "Hilde, how sure are you about this?" They could start making the figures out: a near dozen Pegasi. On a few of their backs rode a group of familiar maidens.
"Doesn't matter if I am. We need to do this," Brünhilde answered. "For Humanity." Skalmöld looked at her sister's face and saw the cold, sharp gaze.
"For Sieg, Pan, and Epi, too."
"…You can't tell the others about that, Möld. Please."
"I'm not going to. This is your plan. You can tell them when you're ready."
"Thank you…"
"Does Göll know at least?" Brünhilde turned to her.
"Göll?"
"You're going to ask her to fight, too, right?"
"I didn't invite her. Not to this."
Skalmöld flinched. "Wait, why?!"
"This conversation is about her, too." The Pegasi started landing in the field. "We'll talk later."
What the hell, Hilde? Skalmöld thought.
Brünhilde and Skalmöld walked over to the group as they got down from their mounts. Hrist, Thrud, Randgriz, Geirölul, Reginleif, Mist, Göndul, Hlökk, Alvitr, and Radgridr grouped up and marched towards their sisters.
"What's going on, Hilde?" Geirölul asked.
"Yeah, it's been a while since you got us all together," Alvitr added.
"Everyone, I know it's short notice, but we need to talk as a group, and this subject needs to be in-person," Brünhilde said.
"Is it about Göll? Randgriz asked. "Is it time?"
"Is it about Skeggöld?" Göndul asked. "We've been coming up short on our ends."
"No, not yet. Something else has become a priority," Brünhilde answered. "The other day at Asgard, I saw Set."
"That asshole? What'd he want?" Geirölul asked.
"He was collecting the votes for the Extermination Council and wanted to inform Odin…that the results will be unanimous in favor of Humanity's destruction."
Dread enveloped the group. Speech escaped them as they exchanged glances, save for Radgridr, who raised her hand. "So…Humanity will be eradicated? Completely?"
"Yes."
"But…what about the souls already here? They already died…so they're safe at least, right?"
"What're you getting at, Raddy?!" Alvitr shouted.
Radgridr flinched. "I was just trying to look at the positives…"
"Alvitr," Randgriz said, staring softly at her younger sister. Alvitr looked away and shirked.
"Sorry…"
"Thank you." Randgriz turned to Brünhilde. "So does that include the souls here now?"
Brünhilde nodded. "Every last trace of Humanity will be destroyed. The living and the dead. I don't think it will include all the Gods that were once Human, but the fact they lost their vote on the Council doesn't bode well."
"Shit…" Hrist whispered.
"This isn't right," Thrud said, towering over all her sisters. "There's no way we can just sit around and let this happen."
Reginleif stepped up to Brünhilde. "What can we do? The seal Dad put on our powers means we're too weak to fight back," She said. "Worse, Gabriel's at the mercy of the Council as the acting 'Chief God.'
"A useless title no different than a damn leash," Geirölul added.
Hlökk stepped a little forward. "But we can't sit around and do nothing. Hilde, do you have an idea?"
Brünhilde nodded. "I do, but it's risky, and it may not work." She said. She pulled out her tablet, tapped on the screen, and held it out, screen up. A small projection shot out and floated above the tablet.
RAGNARÖK
All the Valkyries stared at Brünhilde. "You're…insane, Hilde," Hrist said. "There's no way we can pull this off. The Gods are too damn strong, and there's no way any Human would sign up for this!"
"That's where you're wrong, Hrist." Hilde tapped the screen. Ragnarök vanished, and in its place…
Romulus
Theodore Roosevelt
Nikola Tesla
Saint Germain
Ramses II
Johannes Lichtenaur
Oda Nobunaga
Robin Hood
Georgios
David
Nai Khanom Tom
Samson
Ghulam Baksh
Bak Mei
Gilgamesh
William Bonney
Fuma Kotaro
Sundiata Keita
Tadakatsu Honda
Yi Sun-sin
Yasuke
Jeanne D'Arc
Lyudmila Pavlichenko
Leonidas I
Leonardo Da Vinci
Qin Shi Huang
Li Shuwen
Philippus Von Hohenheim
Simon Bolivar
Fu Hao
Charlemagne
Vlad Dracul Tepes
Rasputin
Simo Hayha
Arash
Hozoin Inshun
Dandara dos Palmares
Julie d'Aubigny La Maupin
Lakshmibai
Joachim Meyer
Arthur of Pendragon
Joseph Haydn
Sakata Kintoki
Muhammad Ali
Okita Souji
Shaka Zulu
Queen Seondeok
Khutulun
Stanislaus Zbyszko
Genghis Khan
Lagertha
Scathach
"These Humans are willing to fight and die."
Mist looked at the list and frowned. You did add him, Hilde...
"Holy cow…wait, Rommie?" Hlökk asked. She kept looking. "Georgios?! But they—"
"They know the risk," Skalmöld said. "Rommie is willing to side with us over his family, and Georgios is our brother in all but blood."
"This is all fine and dandy," Hrist said, her ruder side showing. "But how can they hurt Gods? We don't have access to Divine Weapons."
"We do," Brünhilde answered. "Through Völund."
Silence hung over them for a moment as the word floated around them. "Hilde, you're insane…"
"I know, but this is the only way we can save them. The only way we can give Humanity a fighting chance."
"Hilde," Thrud said. "But we don't know Völund. Dad never showed us."
"And if we do it," Mist spoke. "We die with them."
"You're right, Mist. Thrud, I found someone who could show me. The same one who taught Dad. I'll show you all how, but I need to know."
"Know what?" Randgriz asked.
"If you will all stand with me on this. I…can't go in alone. I'm asking something of you all that may be too mu—"
"Eat dung, Hilde," Geirölul said. "I'm in." She raised her middle finger. "Fuck those shithead Gods. The Primordials tried pulling this shit back then, and they think they're any better?! Fuck them!"
"I'm with Geir," Thrud said. "If we can do something, let's do it."
"Anyone want to say no? I won't hold it against you," Brünhilde asked.
They all exchanged glances. Some confident, others fearful, some confused. They all looked back at Hilde. "One family. One team. One Fight, Hilde," Hrist said.
Brünhilde felt something pull at her heart. She felt a weight both lift and fall on her shoulders. She nodded and smirked. "Excellent. Now, we need to figure a few things out here. Each of us will be paired with someone on this list—"
"I am paired with Rommie," Skalmöld said. All of them looked at her and her odd defiance. "Got it?"
"…Yeah?" Alvitr said.
"Because he's my husband."
"…We know," Hlökk added.
"And is a catch."
"Möld, no one wants to pair up with him. You two are the best fit for each other," Randgriz said. Skalmöld huffed and crossed her arms while she nodded. Why is she acting like this?
"Alright," Brünhilde said. "Let's pick our partners."