{ Disclaimer}
I don't own any of the cool characters or worlds in this story (sadly).
All referenced content is the property of their respective creators and copyright holders.
I only own my original characters, and I promise they're not trying to take over any established universes.
This is just a work of pure fiction, meant to entertain you, maybe make you laugh, and definitely not to upset anyone! Enjoy the ride!
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Asgard was burning.
The golden spires, once a beacon of celestial might, now lay shattered under the relentless tide of shadows. The air reeked of ozone and blood, a battlefield where gods clashed against an army that did not tire, did not falter, and did not fear. The All-Father's domain, a realm thought untouchable, was crumbling.
The battlefield was a brutal, unforgiving sight. The majestic city of Asgard, once untouchable, now lay under siege, its golden walls torn asunder by the relentless advance of the Monarch's shadow army. His soldiers—silent, disciplined, and ever-present—fought with a cold precision that sent chills through the very air. Every soldier they cut down only served to fuel their relentless march forward.
And there, at the heart of the destruction, stood the Monarch, the ruler of shadows, his form a silhouette of calm amidst the storm. He watched the carnage unfold with detached amusement, his mind already calculating his next move, as though the fall of an entire civilization was just another step in his grand plan.
He had come to take Asgard, and now he was going to reshape it.
The Monarch
He watched the destruction unfold with a quiet satisfaction, his arms folded behind his back, his expression unreadable. He had orchestrated this moment with the precision of a grandmaster in the final stages of a chess match. His forces swept through Asgard like an unrelenting tide, his Shadow Generals cutting through divine warriors as if they were nothing more than mortals with delusions of grandeur.
Odin's Arrivel
A roar of thunder split the heavens.
A presence unlike any other descended upon the battlefield—ancient, immense, and unwavering. The skies churned with celestial energy as Odin All-Father arrived, his spear Gungnir glowing with the fury of a thousand storms.
Beside him stood Thor, his golden hair whipping in the wind, Mjölnir trembling with the sheer rage that coursed through his veins. His usual arrogance was gone, replaced by cold, seething fury as he took in the devastation before him.
"Father," Thor growled, his grip tightening around his hammer. "This is not war. This is annihilation."
Odin's gaze was locked onto the Monarch. His single eye, filled with the wisdom of countless eons, narrowed. He could feel the power radiating from this being—not divine, but something far worse. Something… inevitable.
"He is no ordinary conqueror," Odin murmured. "He does not fight for sport, nor for revenge. He fights because he has already won."
Thor exhaled sharply, his frustration barely restrained. "Then let us undo his victory."
Odin did not respond immediately. Instead, he turned his gaze to the battlefield, where the Shadow Generals continued their massacre. Igris, Beru, Bellion. Each of them powerful enough to match the greatest of Asgard's champions.
And then there was him. The Monarch.
Odin's grip on Gungnir tightened. "No, my son. We do not undo inevitability. We face it."
A Meeting of Titans
The Monarch tilted his head slightly as Odin and Thor approached, his expression calm—almost amused.
"I must say, All-Father," he said, his voice carrying effortlessly across the battlefield. "Your realm was… underwhelming."
Thor's knuckles cracked as he clenched his fists. "You dare—"
Odin raised a hand, silencing his son. His gaze remained on the Monarch, studying him. Calculating.
"You speak with certainty, as if you have already decided this war's outcome," Odin said. His voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of something rare—concern.
The Monarch chuckled, a dark, velvety sound. "Odin, Odin, Odin… you of all beings should know. Wars are not won on the battlefield. They are won long before the first sword is drawn."
His eyes gleamed with something unreadable.
"I planned for every move you might make. Every counter, every strategy. Even this moment… was decided before you even set foot on this battlefield."
Odin exhaled slowly. He had seen many tyrants rise and fall. Many warlords who thought themselves inevitable. But this one… this was different.
He was not a conqueror.
He was an executioner.
The War of Gods and Shadows
Odin was the first to strike.
Gungnir glowed with divine might, a weapon forged by the cosmos itself. With a single thrust, the spear released a beam of celestial energy so powerful that it tore through the battlefield, reducing thousands and thousands of shadow soldiers to dust.
The Monarch did not move.
Instead, the shadows themselves shifted, absorbing the attack, bending around it, consuming it. The destruction vanished into the abyss, as if the attack had never existed.
The Monarch's eyes gleamed with an eerie calm as he stepped forward, his shadow soldiers moving like an unyielding wave behind him. With a flick of his wrist, a dozen of his generals appeared at his side—Igris, Beru, and Bellion, their forms emerging from the darkness like specters of death.
The battle was about to escalate, and there would be no turning back.
Odin thrust Gungnir forward, and a massive shockwave of energy exploded from the spear's tip, tearing through the battlefield and sending the shadow soldiers scattering in every direction. The force of the blow was immense, but the Monarch stood unmoved, his form cloaked in the shadows, untouched by the blast.
With a flick of his finger, the shadows moved once more—like a vast ocean, they surged toward Odin and Thor, enveloping them in darkness.
Igris was the first to charge, his massive blade slicing through the air. He struck with all the fury of a beast unleashed, his movements swift and precise, aiming directly for Thor.
Thor did not hesitate.
With a roar of rage, the God of Thunder charged, Mjölnir crackling with lightning as he swung it with all the force of a collapsing star.
CLANG!
The impact was deafening. Igris intercepted the blow, his massive sword clashing against Mjölnir with a force that shattered the ground beneath them. Thor's muscles strained, his divine power roaring to life—yet he found himself pushed back.
Igris did not speak. He did not taunt. He simply attacked, every movement calculated, efficient, merciless.
Beru and Bellion descended upon Odin, their speed and precision forcing the All-Father into full combat. Gungnir whirled through the air, divine strikes meeting the razor-sharp talons of the Shadow Generals.
The Monarch stood back, watching the chaos unfold with a calculating gaze. His shadow army had overwhelmed the city. His generals were testing the gods' limits. And Odin and Thor, for all their divine might, were beginning to realize just how dangerous this invader truly was.
Odin parried their blows with incredible skill, but it was clear—he was beginning to struggle against the onslaught of shadow warriors. But even as he fought, Odin could feel it.
The shadows were endless.
The battle was not a contest.
It was a message.
A declaration that Asgard's age had ended.
The Monarch's Victory
Odin fought with everything he had. Every spell, every ounce of wisdom, every fragment of power he had gathered over millennia.
And yet, for the first time in thousands of years, he felt fear.
Not for himself.
But for Asgard.
For the cosmos.
For the future.
The Monarch strode forward, untouched, unaffected. His power did not wane. His forces did not weaken.
Odin knew what was coming.
Thor screamed as he fell, Mjölnir slipping from his grasp.
Odin felt Gungnir grow heavy in his hands.
The Monarch stepped into the light, his gaze locking onto the All-Father's.
And for the first time in his eternal life, Odin saw something in another's eyes that made his breath catch.
Not rage, Not power.
Certainty
The Monarch smiled.
"This was always going to end like this."
Darkness swallowed Asgard.
And the realm of the gods fell.
The Universe Takes Notice
Far beyond the battlefield, in the farthest reaches of existence, powerful beings felt it.
The fall of a pantheon.
A shift in the balance of power.
And as the last light of Asgard flickered out, a single truth spread across the universe.
A new ruler had emerged.
And he would not stop here.