The sun rose lazily over the sleepy town of Willowbrook, casting a warm, golden hue across the modest houses and winding streets. Birds sang a melodious chorus as the small community began to stir awake. Among its inhabitants, there was a young man named Alex, whose life was about to take a remarkable turn.

Alex lived in a cozy cottage nestled on the outskirts of Willowbrook. He was an unassuming figure, with tousled brown hair and a pair of expressive hazel eyes. He had a reputation in town as an ordinary guy, content with his job at the local bookstore and his evening strolls through the nearby forest.

As Alex started his day, he followed a routine that had become second nature to him. He brewed a steaming cup of coffee, the rich aroma filling his kitchen. He meticulously measured out the coffee grounds and water, a morning ritual he found strangely comforting.

A quick breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs followed, seasoned with a dash of nostalgia from his childhood. He'd often reminisce about his grandmother's kitchen, where he learned the art of cooking.

With a satisfied sigh, he glanced at the bookshelf lining one wall, a testament to his love for literature. Each book held memories of adventures, knowledge, and stories that had touched his soul. He'd spent countless hours surrounded by their pages, seeking solace and inspiration.

The morning sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the room with a gentle warmth. Alex dressed in his usual jeans and a well-worn T-shirt. He waved to his neighbor, Mrs. Patterson, as he stepped outside, exchanging pleasantries about the weather and her blooming garden.

As he walked to work, the town bustled with its usual activity. Shopkeepers greeted him with smiles, and children laughed on their way to school. Willowbrook was a place where everyone knew everyone else, and that's how Alex liked it.

After a day spent helping customers find the perfect book, he made his way back home. It was then, at the threshold of his cottage, that his ordinary life took an extraordinary turn. As he closed the door behind him, a sudden burst of light filled the room, blinding him momentarily.

Blinking rapidly, Alex's gaze landed on a figure bathed in radiant light. A tall, imposing man stood before him, his eyes like twin stars. But instead of the expected solemnity that his shadow originally cast, this figure was dressed in a sharp, three-piece suit, complete with a flashy tie.

"Alex," the figure boomed, his voice oddly reminiscent of a Hollywood businessman. "I have chosen you to be my champion!"

Alex's bewilderment was evident as he stammered, his mind raced then suddenly images of a name and myth was shoved in his head as if by someone else. "You... You're Baldr, the God of Light?"

Baldr winked and adjusted his tie with a self-satisfied grin. "You got it, kid! I'm Baldr, but you can call me B. I like to keep things informal. Now, let's talk business. I need a champion, and you've got the right stuff. Trust me; I've been in this deity business for eons, and I know talent when I see it."

Alex's mind raced. The God of Light was nothing like he'd imagined. He had expected grandeur, not a charismatic showman. "What kind of war are we talking about....B?"

Baldr leaned in, his tone conspiratorial. "The kind of war where the fate of worlds hangs in the balance, my friend. A battle of light versus darkness, good versus evil, the usual cosmic showdown. And guess what? You're the star of the show!"

With that bombshell, Baldr chuckled, as if he'd just delivered a punchline. Alex stood there, stunned and unsure of what he'd done to garner such attention from a god of all things.

Feeling a blend of trepidation and a flicker of excitement, Alex reluctantly accepted his role as Baldr's champion as he shook the Gods hand. Baldr winked, "I'll come get ya tommorow kid. Better say goodbye to this plain o existence." He raised two fingers in a wave then dissappear as if he had never been there.

Night fell over Willowbrook, but for Alex, sleep was elusive. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, contemplating the cosmic war he'd been thrust into. The chirping crickets outside seemed to underscore the eeriness of his situation, a stark contrast to the familiar comfort of his quaint cottage.