Several hours later, hundreds of councilors crossed the Rainbow Bridge, their boots echoing against the gleaming surface as they arrived on the continent of Asgard and entered the grand temple. Odin's complexion had returned to its usual, regal hue, and there was no visible trace of injury on his body.
As the gods settled into their seats, Odin rose slowly, gripping the Spear of Eternity with both hands. His voice carried across the hall, powerful yet calm.
"Councilors, we are facing an unprecedented disaster. The enemy from the Panlong system has invaded our territory through a newly formed wormhole. I require you to dispatch all available fleets to support us immediately."
A murmur rose from the assembly, growing louder by the second.
"Isn't the Panlong Galaxy located near the Milky Way?" one god asked.
"How did they get here? Weren't all wormholes sealed?"
"What sort of enemy forces the God-King himself to call for help?"
"Could the main god of the Panlong Galaxy have been killed? Otherwise, why would he invade us?"
"Impossible… how have we received no prior news of this?"
The voices rose, overlapping, a chorus of confusion and fear. Odin's eyes narrowed, and with a sharp tap of the Spear of Eternity on the temple floor—thump… thump—the murmurs immediately ceased. Silence fell like a heavy curtain.
Odin nodded, satisfied with the momentary quiet, and spoke again, his tone commanding:
"Each councilor must dispatch ten small warships and one medium-class vessel to Asgard for immediate support."
He did not mention large warships—only Asgard had the authority and capacity to build them. Any councilor attempting to construct one without explicit approval would be charged with treason, a punishment swift and unforgiving.
The gods' faces shifted from fear to outright dismay. Over the centuries of peace and prosperity, most had neglected their warships. Since the Asgardians had taken control of the galaxy, closing all wormholes and quelling rebellions, there had been no significant wars. Resources had been squandered on luxury, not warfare.
"My God King… my planet has long suffered from poverty. We have no resources to spare for such a fleet," one councilor lamented.
"Yes, mine as well. Only three ancient ships remain, relics from a thousand years ago," another admitted.
"Your Majesty… the recent rebellion destroyed our remaining vessels. We cannot comply!"
"You have done well… yet I cannot even build a palace, let alone a warship," a third added bitterly.
Odin's eyes darkened as he listened. The descendants of the once-mighty Asgardian gods had grown soft, corrupt, and complacent. The gods who would have once poured every resource into defending their realm now argued over the cost of ships, their priorities entirely misaligned with the crisis at hand.
With a shake of his head, Odin tapped the floor once more with the Eternal Spear.
"For those who cannot meet the requirements, I will send agents to collect the necessary resources. The meeting is adjourned."
He had originally intended to inspire his council, to offer rewards or distribute more planets as incentive—but such thoughts no longer seemed fitting. These lawmakers had disappointed him profoundly.
After dismissing the council, Odin immediately dispatched messengers to reach the surviving forces, instructing them to relocate to prevent Thanos from pinpointing Asgard's coordinates. Despite the exhaustion gnawing at him, he then made his way to Thor's palace.
Thor lay on the bed, pale and unconscious, his body battered beyond recognition. Beside him, Queen Frigga hovered, one hand holding a staff and the other channeling a soft white light. Her healing skills were not extraordinary, but she would not allow herself to hesitate. Her son's life was worth more than her own energy, more than her pride.
Thor's injuries were severe—only a sub-Father-level healer could have any chance of mending them. And in all of Asgard, Frigga was the only one who both possessed such power and knew the healing arts.
Odin's eyes softened briefly as he took in the sight of the Queen of the Gods, sweat gleaming on her brow, face taut with concentration. A pang of unease struck him.
"Why don't you take a rest?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.
Frigga's eyes flicked toward him, indifferent. She did not stop her spell, nor did she offer any acknowledgment. For her, Thor was the lifeline of her existence. Odin was merely her political and contractual partner, a tool in the grand machinery of Asgardian power.
Outwardly, their union had always appeared ideal—loving, harmonious, a model for all—but beneath the surface, resentment and pragmatism interwove with necessity. A millennium ago, her witch clan had been decimated by the other realms, leaving her no choice but to marry Odin for the sake of her people. Over time, as she aided him in ruling the Nine Realms, Odin began suppressing her bloodline and controlling her authority, even punishing her eldest daughter, Hela, for awakening her witch heritage.
Every action, every compromise had been endured out of necessity. Even when Odin pursued his whims elsewhere, she had pretended not to see—an act of survival bound by contracts and power. Love had no place here; only duty and the unyielding survival of her children.
Seeing Frigga's icy focus, Odin felt anger flare, but it cooled as he suppressed it. A greater threat loomed, and personal grievances could wait.
However, his gaze fell upon Sif, who stood silently nearby, and patience finally snapped. His face darkened, a storm of fury radiating off him as he gripped the Eternal Spear. With a surge of power, a shockwave erupted, buzzing through the room.
Sif had not anticipated the attack. The strike hit her squarely in the stomach, creating a gaping wound, nearly splitting her in two. A sharp bang followed as she collapsed, coughing up blood, eyes wide, fixed on Odin as if asking why her life was now forfeit.
Odin sheathed the Spear of Eternity and roared, voice booming with authority and rage:
"Who gave you the authority to bring the flagship back? Do you understand what your actions have caused? Millions of Asgardians have died at the front because of your disobedience! You have committed desertion, a capital offense!"
Sif could only close her eyes in resignation, tasting blood and regret. Damn it… I knew I shouldn't have saved this damn fool, she thought bitterly, the weight of Odin's wrath heavy upon her.
.....
Can't wait to read more exciting chapters then what are you waiting for Join my p*atreon right now.
Get 60+ Premium chapters.
Link: p*atreon.com/Earthly_Writer (Remove the *)
2 Chapters for all free members.