The Einherjar, Odin's chosen warriors, surged forward.
They knew the plan: to sacrifice themselves to weaken the veil, allowing Odin to force it open and lead the charge into the mortal realm.
Their lives were but kindling for the Allfather's purpose to destroy the Pyramid and the Anchor within, to end the blasphemy that threatened the balance of existence.
With a unified roar, they raised their weapons high axes, swords, and spears gleaming with runic light voices shaking the very foundations of the heavens.
The first wave of Einherjar stepped forward, their movements precise, disciplined, yet heavy with the weight of their fate. They formed a circle around a focal point in the veil, a shimmering nexus where the fabric of reality pulsed like a living thing. The air hummed with latent power, the veil rippling under the strain of the Anchor's distant influence.
The warriors locked eyes, brothers and sisters bound by honor, and began to chant in unison. Their voices wove ancient words of power and the chant grew, a low rumble rising to a thunderous cadence, shaking the ground and sending tremors through the veil itself.
As their voices swelled, a radiant glow enveloped the Einherjar. Tendrils of golden light spiraled from their chests, their life force pouring forth like rivers of fire. The energy surged into the veil, each warrior's essence a hammer striking the anvil of reality. Their faces contorted in pain, yet none faltered. One by one, they collapsed, their bodies crumbling to ash as their spirits fueled the ritual. With each sacrifice, the veil shimmered and cracked, fissures spreading like spiderwebs across its surface, glowing with an eerie, phosphorescent light. The air grew thick with the scent of ozone, sharp and electric, mingled with the metallic tang of blood a grim reminder of the cost. The ground beneath the circle blackened, scorched by the sheer intensity of the magic being unleashed.
Odin stepped forward, his presence eclipsed the atmosphere. His single eye burned with unrelenting purpose, the weight of millennia etched into his weathered face. Gungnir, his spear, thrummed in his grip, its haft carved with runes that pulsed in time with the fracturing veil. The Allfather's cloak billowed in an unseen wind, the ravens Huginn and Muninn circling above, their caws a mournful dirge for the fallen. He raised Gungnir, its tip gleaming like a star, and drove it into the center of the weakened veil. The impact sent a shockwave through the realms, a blinding light erupting as the veil shattered with a deafening roar, like the breaking of a thousand worlds. Shards of reality fell away, dissolving into motes of light, revealing the battlefield beyond a golden desert dominated by the Great Pyramid, its apex pulsing with the Anchor's forbidden power.
The sky above the Pyramid darkened, storm clouds boiling as a swirling vortex of energy tore open the heavens. The rift pulsed with chaotic light, a bridge between realms, its edges crackling with the residue of Thor's self-destruction a tempest of divine magic that saturated the air. Through the rift, Odin and his remaining Einherjar emerged, their armor gleaming with the reflected glow of the vortex. Spears and shields clashed in rhythm, a war hymn rising from their ranks as they descended onto the mortal plane. The ground quaked beneath their boots, each step a declaration of war. Odin's presence alone was a force of nature, his silhouette towering against the storm-wracked sky, Gungnir raised like a banner of doom.
Odin let out a primal war cry that echoed across the battlefield, a sound that carried the weight of gods and the fury of a father avenging his son. "Charge!" he commanded, his voice a thunderclap that drowned out the howling wind. The Einherjar surged forward, a tidal wave of fury aimed at the heart of the Pyramid. Their weapons gleamed, their eyes burned with righteous zeal, and the ground trembled as they advanced, unaware of the illusion awaiting them. The Pyramid loomed, its defenders' silhouettes flickering atop its ramparts, and Odin's heart steeled for the slaughter to come. The Anchor would fall, and the mortal realm would bow or burn.
**
Inside the Pyramid, Morpheus stood at the heart of the defense, his dark robes billowing as he surveyed the chaos. His sharp eyes caught the glint of Odin's spear his gaze shifted, drawn to a fracture in the fabric of reality a crack in the air, its edges glowing with an unnatural light. It was widening, threatening to unravel everything, Odin was breaking through. His heart seized. "The wards!" he barked, his voice cutting through the din. "Activate them now!"
The defenders, a mix of seasoned wizards and desperate allies, sprang into action. Herpo, his serpentine eyes glinting with malice, chanted alongside Albus, whose wand wove intricate patterns in the air. The wards flared to life, a massive illusion unfurling like a mirage across the battlefield.
To Odin's army, it appeared as though the Pyramid's defenders stood resolute, their numbers unyielding, spells flying in defiance. But it was a lie a grand deception. Stone and sand twisted into false armies, conjured figures that mimicked the chaos of battle.
Morpheus's voice rang out, steady and commanding. "Remember the plan. Strike hard, then leave. Big spells, small spells make them believe." His team moved with precision, casting explosive curses and subtle charms to sell the illusion. Albus raised his wand, transfiguring the sand into towering constructs great beasts and walls of flame that seemed to require entire cadres of wizards to conjure.
Herpo unleashed a torrent of dark magic, of shadow slithering across the sands, their forms blurring into the illusion and the haze of the desert sun.
One by one, the defenders began to vanish. Portkeys glowed softly, whisking them away in secret, their movements cloaked by the wards' deception. The Pyramid's true numbers dwindled, but the illusion held firm, a perfect facsimile of a desperate stand. Morpheus positioned his remaining forces at strategic points, their spells bolstering the mirage. "Hold the line," he whispered to Herpo and Albus. "Make them pay for every step."
**
Odin's army crashed against the Pyramid like a storm breaking on a cliff. Gungnir sang as Odin hurled it, the spear arcing through the air with divine precision, aimed at Morpheus's heart.
The Allfather's eye widened as the spear struck true only to pass through nothing. Morpheus's form shimmered and dissolved, a phantom of light and shadow. Odin froze, his gaze sweeping the battlefield.
The defenders, the spells, the chaos it was all an illusion. The air was thick with Thor's lingering magic, a maelstrom of divine energy that had blinded even his all-seeing eye. The Anchor's power pulsed beneath it, a mocking heartbeat.
"Deceived," Odin growled, his voice a thunderclap. He spun, searching for his foe, but the Pyramid's defenders were gone. The battlefield was a lie, a tapestry of trickery woven to lure him in. "Retreat!" he bellowed, his voice carrying over the din. "Fall back, now!"
But it was too late. Deep within the Pyramid, the Anchor began to pulse wildly.
"MORPHEUSSS!!" Odin bellowed in unfathomable rage as the anchor exploded