NOVEL NEXT Chapter 15: Chapter 15: Thunder and Spear
The All-Father stood firm, his spear crackling with power as he faced the newly appointed Electro Archon. His gaze was unwavering, his presence commanding, yet the air between them pulsed with tension. Purple lightning danced around her, a storm given form, her expression unreadable but resolute. She did not waver.
Odin had come to Teyvat seeking aid for the what's to come, yet here he stood, locked in battle with an Archon. He gritted his teeth—she was formidable, far more skilled with her weapon than he had anticipated. They moved faster than the eye could follow, his legendary spear, Gungnir, clashing against her polearm in a shower of sparks. Each strike was precise, calculated, yet she stayed relentlessly close, forcing him onto the defensive.
The ground beneath them crumbled as their battle raged on, each clash of their weapons shaking the land. They moved like storms given form—lightning and fury entwined. Odin swung his spear with practiced precision, but she met him strike for strike, her polearm a blur of electrified steel.
They shot into the air, the force of their movements tearing through the sky. She struck, he blocked, but the sheer power of her blow sent him hurtling toward the earth. He twisted mid-fall, landing with a crash, debris scattering around him. Before he could recover, a bolt of lightning struck where he stood. He barely dodged, gripping Gungnir tightly as he looked up.
Descending toward him, the Electro Archon stepped gracefully on glowing stairs of violet energy, each step humming with raw power. Her expression was unreadable, her gaze sharp as a blade.
"You are an intruder to this world. State your reason for coming here."
Odin steadied himself, his grip firm. "I came to speak with Celestia."
Her eyes narrowed. "They will not speak to you. Leave."
"I won't—" He lunged forward, Gungnir poised to strike.
Before he could reach her, lightning surged through her form, and in a blink, she was upon him.
"You are a strong warrior," she said, her voice steady as a storm before it breaks. "But my strength surpasses yours."
In an instant, her blade found its mark. A flash of violet, a rush of force—Odin staggered. The next thing he knew, he was on his back, her weapon pressed against his throat, electricity crackling in the air between them. The fight was over.
Her gaze bore into him, cold and absolute. "Leave now, or be erased."
Odin stood still, his grip loosening as Gungnir slipped from his grasp. His chest rose and fell with measured breaths, but the weight of his realization pressed heavily upon him.
"Why?" His voice was low, almost a whisper. "Why did they warn me of my death but refuse to help stop Ragnarok?" Fear flickered in his eyes—an emotion he rarely allowed himself to acknowledge. Of course, he feared it. He did not want to die.
Before the Electro Archon could respond, another voice cut through the tense air.
"They informed me that you might come."
Odin turned toward the source. A woman with flowing violet hair stepped forward, her appearance nearly identical to the warrior he had just battled. His brows furrowed in confusion—twins, perhaps? Sisters?
"Greetings. I am Baal," she said calmly. "I apologize for my sister. Beelzebub prefers battle over conversation."
Beelzebub exhaled sharply, withdrawing her weapon from Odin's throat. She studied him for a moment before offering a curt nod. "You're strong," she admitted. "But you lack refinement. Train harder if you wish to stand against me." With that, she turned away, already focused on her own training.
Baal extended a hand, her expression serene yet firm. "Come," she said, her voice carrying a quiet grace, as if she had already foreseen this moment.
Odin hesitated, but only briefly, before stepping forward and following her lead.
She led him to a shrine, its presence tranquil yet steeped in power. The scent of aged wood and faint incense filled the air. Baal knelt with practiced elegance, settling into a formal seiza position. Odin mirrored her, though with a stiffness that betrayed his unfamiliarity with the posture.
For a moment, silence stretched between them, unbroken but heavy with unspoken thoughts. Then, he finally spoke. "You said they informed you I would come?"
Baal nodded, her violet gaze steady. "Indeed." Her tone remained calm, unwavering. "The heavens have already decided. If the moment comes when Ragnarok threatens to consume all, we Archons shall be sent to your realm to put an end to it."
Her fingers traced the rim of a porcelain cup, though she never lifted it. "Yet," she continued, "us gods of Teyvat do not approve of how you rule your people. Your ways are not ours." A pause, fleeting yet meaningful. "But in the end, we are bound to their will. And so, we shall act as we are told."
_________________
Fenrir had no clue what was happening across the realms—nor did he care. In this moment, the battlefield was his world. The clash of steel, the crack of frozen limbs, the raw exhilaration of combat—it consumed him.
With a single breath, frost spread like wildfire, creeping over the ground and swallowing his foes whole. Trolls froze mid-motion, their bodies encased in shimmering ice before shattering into glittering shards. The fight was over in an instant.
Rose huffed, lowering her weapon as she shot him an unimpressed glare. "You know, it's cool that you can freeze stuff, Fen," she muttered, puffing out her cheeks. "But could you maybe leave some for me next time?"
Fenrir chuckled, shaking off the last remnants of battle. "Sorry, guess I got carried away." Truth was, fighting kept him grounded—it gave him something to focus on, something to keep the weight of his thoughts at bay.