The world around Bertinus vanished. No ice, no giants, no thunder ; just an endless white nothingness.
He tried to move, but his limbs felt heavy, like they were tied down by invisible chains. His breath came in quick, shallow gasps, echoing in the empty space.
Then, a shape started to form in front of him. A dark figure, tall and shifting, like smoke caught in a wind that didn't exist.
"Who… who are you?" Bertinus called out, his voice thin and trembling.
The figure didn't answer. Instead, it drifted closer, a cold, powerful energy rolling off it. Bertinus shivered, his fingers tightening around Mjolnir's handle even though he wasn't sure it would help here.
Finally, the figure spoke, its voice deep and smooth, echoing from everywhere at once.
"You are not Thor," it said. "And yet… you carry his power."
Bertinus swallowed hard. "I… I don't understand. I only wanted to help, to protect Asgard."
"You wear his face, swing his hammer," the voice continued. "But your heart is still human. Weak… afraid."
Bertinus felt his knees start to buckle. Every part of him screamed to run, but there was nowhere to go.
"Please… if this is a test, let me prove myself," he said, his voice cracking. "I won't fail them."
Silence hung heavy for a long moment. Then, the figure raised a hand. In its palm, a small, glowing orb appeared — a swirl of blue and silver light.
"This is the Heart of Storms," the voice said. "The true source of Thor's might. If you want to keep this power, you must claim it with your own soul. You must face your deepest fear."
The orb floated closer, and Bertinus felt a sudden, sharp pain in his chest. Memories flashed before his eyes , his old life as a normal man, the loneliness, the feeling of never being enough.
He saw himself standing alone, small and helpless, watching his loved ones leave him behind.
"No… please… don't show me this," he whispered, tears burning at the edges of his eyes.
"You cannot run from who you are," the voice boomed.
Bertinus fell to his knees. His hand slipped from Mjolnir, and he pressed his palms to the cold ground.
"I'm not a god… I'm just… me," he gasped.
The orb hovered above his head, growing brighter and brighter until it felt like the sun was sitting on his shoulders.
Then, in that blinding moment, he heard a new voice. Soft, warm, like a gentle breeze in summer.
"You don't have to be perfect," it said. "You just have to be true."
Bertinus looked up slowly. In the light, he saw a faint image , his mother, smiling at him. His old friends, cheering. Even Odin, nodding with a rare look of approval.
The warmth spread through his body, chasing away the ice in his veins.
Bertinus stood, trembling but steady. He reached up and touched the orb.
A shock ran through him, almost knocking him down again, but he held on. Slowly, the light sank into his chest, burning but bright, filling every corner of him with raw power and deep peace all at once.
When the light faded, he opened his eyes. The figure was gone. The white void had vanished.
He stood once more on the battlefield, frost giants lying defeated around him, Asgardian soldiers looking up in shock and awe.
Bertinus gripped Mjolnir tightly, feeling its true weight ,and its true power ; for the first time.
He lifted the hammer high, lightning dancing up his arms and crackling in the sky above.
"For Asgard!" he shouted, stronger and clearer than ever before.
A chorus of cheers rose around him, echoing off the icy cliffs.
But far at the edge of the battlefield, hidden in the mist, a pair of dark eyes watched him carefully. A slow, wicked smile spread across unseen lips.
The real battle had only just begun.