Vanaheimr, a quiet lakeshore.
The water shimmered brightly, reflecting the hanging aerial roots of the World Tree.
Týr sat alone on a boulder by the lake, gazing at the calm water, but his heart was churning.
Ares's two provocations were like stings, deeply embedded in his pride, and the forcibly suppressed sense of humiliation was almost consuming him.
He needed strength, a certificate that could prove himself again and scare off the arrogant.
At this moment, the surrounding air seemed to freeze for an instant, and the light became soft and concentrated.
Týr warily looked up and saw the Vanir God-King 'Narcissus' standing quietly nearby, his dark green hair swaying in the wind, and on his face a sympathetic and subtle smile.
"It seems you are uncomfortable here, god of justice of Ásgarðr."
Narcissus's voice was clear and calm, as if it could soothe people's hearts, yet held the depth of one who understands all.
Týr stood up and nodded slightly, which counted as a greeting, his voice a little dry: "God-King Narcissus."
He did not deny it, and could not deny it.
Before this unfathomable God-King, hiding was pointless.
Narcissus slowly approached, his gaze gliding over Týr's clenched fists and the remaining anger that had not yet faded between his brows.
"It is indeed difficult for a soldier like you to endure unreasonable provocations and insults."
He seemed to empathize, but then changed his mind: "Perhaps you need... strong enough partners to protect your dignity and the dignity of your subordinates."
As he spoke, Narcissus raised his hand, and from the air, a strangely shaped long sword appeared in his grasp.
The blade was not a bright metallic color, but a dark gray, as deep as eternal night, as if it could absorb all surrounding light.
The hilt was inlaid with a dark red gem that constantly pulsed, like the heart of a living being.
The edge did not seem particularly sharp, but upon closer inspection, one could see it was actually wrapped in leaves of the World Tree.
The entire sword radiated a pulsating, bloodthirsty, and destructive aura.
"This sword is called 'Dáinsleif',"
Narcissus's voice carried a strange rhythm, as if reciting some ancient mantra.
"It thirsts to drink blood, and when drawn, it longs for living beings; wherever it wounds, the wound will never heal. It... never misses."
He smiled and extended the long sword, radiating a sinister magic, to Týr.
"I think this might help you in Vanaheimr to better... 'stand firm'."
Týr's eyes were instantly drawn to this magical sword!
As a premier warrior, he could clearly feel the terrifying power contained within this sword!
This was exactly what he craved most now—power capable of intimidating all provocateurs!
As for the characteristics of 'bloodthirsty when drawn' and 'wounds never heal'?
In Týr's view, this was not a curse, but proof of power!
It was a symbol of this sword's incomparably mighty power!
As the god of justice, he was confident he could control this sword, use it to destroy evil, and maintain due order and dignity.
He even thought that the 'never miss' and 'incurable' characteristics of this sword were simply the most ideal deterrent against arrogant people like Ares!
"Thank you, God-King, for your generous gift!" Týr could hardly wait to take Dáinsleif.
He gently stroked the dark gray blade, feeling the pulsations of the dark red gem, his eyes shining with joy and enthusiasm.
He liked this sword so much!
Narcissus looked at Týr's undisguised attachment, and the smile on his face deepened, even with a hint of imperceptible... strangeness.
The smile seemed to say: "Take it and accept this power; it is exactly what you need... and it is also guided by fate."
Of course, he wouldn't tell Týr that this Dáinsleif was not 'forged' by him, but a conceptual magical sword he had created in combination with fate.
It inherited the cursed traits of 'killing' and 'incurable' from the original legend, and was one of the embodiments of death.
He wouldn't point out that in the original thread of fate, this sword was destined to 'kill heroes' (Sigurd/Siegfried).
But at this moment, the 'three Norn goddesses' (Nyx), sitting by the Well of Urd and in charge of the fate of this world, had quietly woven traces of the invisible web of fate onto it.
Kill a hero? No.
Under Nyx's influence, this magical sword had received a more cruel fate.
Its fate had been quietly rewritten as 'the sword that kills brothers'.
Týr, now with it in hand, had not yet lost the right hand he sacrificed to bind the demon wolf Fenrir.
Did he have brothers?
In Ásgarðr, although gods are called brothers, those closest by blood... perhaps only these few.
And in this divine realm, full of suspicion and power struggles, brothers can fall out.
Narcissus (Hades) gave this sword ostensibly to please the lonely war god, to give him strength and deepen the connection between the Vanir and the former core of Ásgarðr.
In reality, it was sowing a dangerous seed.
A magical sword that drinks blood and cannot heal wounds when drawn, plus a god destined to 'kill brothers'... This combination, in the shadow of Ragnarök, appeared particularly dazzling and ominous.
Týr knew nothing of this.
He was immersed in the joy of obtaining a divine weapon, feeling that his stance had become much straighter, as if with Dáinsleif in hand, people like Ares could no longer humiliate him.
He thanked Narcissus again and couldn't wait to find a place to familiarize himself with the power of this new companion.
Narcissus watched Týr leave with a smile, the strange light in his eyes gradually fading, returning to his usual depth and calm.
"The loom of fate has turned..." he whispered to himself, his voice merging with the lakeside breeze.
"The seeds are sown, waiting to sprout... Let the flowers bloom brightly and fatally."
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ps: Dáinsleif, also known as Dáinsleif, is a quite dazzling sword in the second half of the Nibelungenlied.
It is the sword that killed the hero Siegfried, and the legend is part of the Rhinegold.
During a hunt, when Siegfried leaned down to drink water from a spring, his brother-in-law Hagen stabbed him in the back with Dáinsleif.
Since Siegfried had bathed in dragon's blood and was invulnerable, the only weak spot left was the position of his heart on his back, because a leaf had fallen there, and Dáinsleif struck him right there.
Siegfried's death triggered a series of brutal vengeances and massacres, ultimately leading to the destruction of the entire Burgundian royal family.
In this sense, Dáinsleif not only killed a hero but also severed family bonds and ultimately destroyed the entire family.
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