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(General P.O.V)
From high above Niflheim, the barren land of death, Loki and the soul of Siegfried—Thor's spirit now disembodied and weightless—soared on the back of Sleipnir, the eight-legged pegasus whose hooves barely stirred the dreary clouds beneath them.
The mount, a twisted beauty, born of magic and legend, was as much part of Loki as the lies he wove and the truths he withheld.
Below them stretched a white sea of drifting souls, thousands of them gliding silently over the mists like lost feathers on windless air. They all moved toward a single destination: the towering, jagged silhouette of Hela's obsidian palace in the far distance, wrapped in vines of shadow and crowned in green flame.
"Those," Loki said, gesturing downward, "are the recently dead. Not everyone gets into Valhalla, you know. Most of them end up here."
Having had time to process everything that had happened, Siegfried didn't speak at first, but when he did, his voice was low and steady.
"They'll increase, won't they?"
Loki gave a humorless nod. "Exponentially. If we don't stop Baldur."
Siegfried narrowed his eyes. "Stop him from what exactly?"
Loki turned halfway in the saddle, his expression a mix of exasperation and disbelief. "Were you listening at all?"
The former thunderer glared back. "You talk too much."
Loki chuckled. "Well, you glare like a cranky goat now—less intimidating without your powers."
But then—crack—a flicker of lightning flashed behind Siegfried's eyes.
Loki blinked. "...Shit. You are a freak. Probably worse than the last two Thors."
Then he sobered.
"Baldur," Loki began again, "is the rot behind it all. Malekith and the Dark Elves? That was him. The civil war in Jotunheim? Him. Surtur and the fire giant invasion? Still him. The slow unraveling of Vanaheim's politics? Guess who."
Siegfried didn't respond. He simply clenched his fists.
Loki went on. "The Allfather named me Agent of Asgard to track down whoever was behind these escalating conflicts. Took millions of years across three cycles, but I was close. Close enough to make Baldur sweat."
"I don't care what Baldur's trying to do," Siegfried snapped, voice like distant thunder. "He and Sif betrayed me. And they murdered Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun. I didn't like them at first, but… they were brothers. Centuries together. And I'm going to rip Baldur's heart out for it. Brother or not."
Loki gave a slow, grim nod. "Good. We'll need that rage."
He adjusted the reins as Sleipnir crested another ice-capped ridge.
"Baldur knew I was getting close. That's why he sent me on that 'mission'—claimed the Allmother wanted it done herself. Turned out it was an ambush. General Tyr tried to kill me."
"And you escaped?"
Loki patted Sleipnir's side. "This one always did like me more than my other children. You've met Hela."
Nodding, Siegfried looked out over the mists. "So… we can't trust anyone. Not even Asgard."
"Exactly," Loki said. "It's just us now."
He paused.
"And we don't have time to find new allies. Baldur is planning to start Ragnarok early."
Siegfried turned to him sharply. "Your spy network tell you that too?"
Loki shook his head. "After the failed ambush, I went back to the Norns. They showed me everything. But by then it was too late to save our friends."
He leaned forward, voice dropping.
"And there's more. Gungnir—Odin's spear—was never lost. Baldur had it the whole time."
Baldur had said something about destroying the Well of Mimir, probably to keep Siegfried from undergoing the Thoric Ritual.
Siegfried frowned. "Then why hide it at the Well?"
"Because Gungnir doesn't just amplify Odin's power," Loki said. "It contains the full might of the Odinforce. You don't just hold onto it—that much power would destroy anyone. And Baldur needed time to build up tolerance, to absorb at least half the Odinforce before making his move."
Siegfried's face twisted with realization. "So he's moving now because he thinks he's strong enough."
"Exactly," Loki nodded. "He's going to kill our father, take the full Odinforce, and then collapse the World Tree with a premature Ragnarok."
The silence that followed was heavy. Only Sleipnir's wing beat occupied the quiet.
"From the ashes," Loki finished, "he'll remake Asgard in his image. The rest of the realms will be forever lost."
"Including Midgard..." Siegfried breathed out, his confidence slightly faltering."...Can he even be stopped?"
Loki was quiet.
Then: "We only have one chance."
They crested a final hill.
Before them, resting in a vast crater of shimmering spirit-energy, was a glowing pool nestled beneath an ancient, gnarled version of the World Tree's roots.
It's waters shimmered like liquid memory, light and shadow dancing in ripples.
Siegfried's eyes widened.
"The Well of Mimir...?"
Loki nodded. "The spiritual counterpart of the one Baldur destroyed in the physical realm."
He looked at Siegfried with rare solemnity.
"Everything that dies across the Nine Realms passes through Hela's domain. And this Well? It connects to all dimensions of thought, memory and magic regardless of space or time. A spring of infinity."
They jumped off the Pegasus and Siegfried stepped forward, his spirit refilling with purpose. It was time for the Thoric Ritual. Baldur may have stolen Mjolnir but a hammer, despite how powerful, didn't make a Thor.
"This is where we end the cycle," he said.
Loki raised an eyebrow.
"No, brother." he corrected. "This is where we begin."
-0-
In the quiet of the Hall of Resting, the Allfather slept.
Odin, once the unmovable center of Asgard, lay still on his stone bed, his body preserved by the fading light of the Odinforce. Over him stood Baldur, his silhouette cast long across the golden floor.
He stared down at the sleeping form and whispered, "Are you proud of me, Father?"
Behind him, Freyja, kneeling respectfully, replied, "He was always proud of you, my son."
Baldur didn't even turn. "I'm sick of hearing your lies."
Before Freyja could respond, a shadow darted from her side.
Sif grabbed a guard's spear and, with a wicked grin, drove it through Freyja's back, lifting her off the floor as she impaled her fully. The Allmother gasped, choked, and twitched.
Sif cackled. "Always hated your condescending tone, old bit."
Baldur finally turned, expression unreadable. "Have some respect. She proved useful."
Then he raised Gungnir.
"But she's outlived her purpose. Let her join her husband in endless sleep."
And with that, Baldur turned and plunged the spear down toward Odin.
For a brief moment, the Odinforce itself resisted. The air rippled, and Odin's eyes snapped open. He saw the spear.
He saw his son.
And he whispered one final word.
"...Thor?"
Mjolnir came crashing down, hammering Gungnir's handle like a nail. The spear drove through Odin's chest.
The Allfather died.
A wave of power exploded through the palace—then across the sky—rattling the roots of the World Tree.
Golden energy poured into a cackling Baldur, swirling, devouring, transforming. He rose into the air, glowing, radiant, invincible.
The Odinforce became the Baldurforce.
His armor shifted, reforged into plates of divine sun-gold, his eyes now wells of blinding white fire. Behind him, Mjolnir floated like a loyal sentinel. Around his body, the air trembled in reverence.
He turned slowly to face the stunned hall of Asgardians.
Silence.
Then Tyr, General of Asgard, dropped to one knee.
"All hail," he said. "Allfather Baldur. Godking of Asgard."
The chant echoed. First whispered. Then roared.
Baldur rose above the palace.
Beside him, Sif, now donned in a new armor of shimmering Valkyrie light, stood radiant, her wings carved from sunbeams themselves—gifted by the Baldurforce.
They ascended together.
And Baldur's voice echoed across the Nine Realms, projected through the Bifrost itself.
"To all living souls beneath Yggdrasil—hear me.
I am Baldur Odinson, the Eternal King.
I wield the divine authority to decide fate.
And under my rule, you will learn to love me."
The skies rumbled.
He raised Gungnir and Mjolnir together.
"But love must begin with obedience. And to ensure obedience, there must be a demonstration.
Jotunheim has long been a thorn in Asgard's side.
But at least the Frost Giants can be reasoned with.
Muspelheim... cannot."
In Niflheim, at the edge of the spiritual Well of Mimir, Hela, Sleipnir and Loki watched the sky.
Baldur's image filled the heavens, towering, radiant. The power around him warped the air.
"What's he doing?" Hela muttered.
Loki's voice was flat. "He's making an example."
Baldur's voice thundered again.
"As my first act as Godking—I pass judgment.
I sentence Muspelheim… to Ragnarok."
"No…" Loki whispered.
Gungnir and Mjolnir rose.
They caught the light of the Asgardian Sun, and then amplified it, twisted it—channeling it through the Bifrost, through realm-bridges, forging a new, chaotic beam of multicolored annihilation.
A beam of godlike judgment.
It tore through space.
And vaporized Muspelheim.
The realm of fire was cut from the World Tree, gone in seconds.
Every realm fell silent.
Even Hela stared in disbelief. "How… do we stop that?"
Before Loki could answer—
A voice behind them spoke.
"I don't care. But I'm getting my hammer back."
They turned.
And saw Siegfried.
No… Thor. This was not the slave Siegfried clinging onto mortal ways.
Now seven feet tall, this Thor of a God rippled with power. His red hair whipped behind him, eyes sparking with stormlight. His torso was bare, runes pulsing across his arms and chest like veins of lightning.
Over his shoulder, he carried a massive axe, glowing blue with crackling energy.
Loki's jaw dropped. "Jarnbjorn?"
Thor looked at him.
"No. Meet Stormbreaker. A gift from another me. A Thor of Marvels."
And that wasn't all he'd received from the Well.
-0-
The Rainbow Bridge shimmered in tension, silent save for the distant hum of power still crackling from Baldur's cataclysmic judgment on Muspelheim.
Light shimmered unnaturally across its surface—warped, bending to the will of a new godking.
Then the sound of bootsteps echoed.
Heimdall, Guardian of the Realms, emerged from the Bifrost's dais. His eyes burned white with quiet defiance. In his hand, the sword Hofund, still sharp and radiant.
He stood tall below Baldur, whose golden aura pulsed like a false sun.
"You're not worthy," Heimdall said.
The words rang like steel against gold. "You are no Odin. And you are certainly no Thor. They would never needlessly destroy an entire realm."
Baldur narrowed his eyes, amused. "So this is resignation?"
Heimdall shook his head. "This is me saying enough of your bullshit."
Baldur's expression flattened. "Then die for it."
He raised a hand, conjuring a hail of light spears, and launched them toward Heimdall.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Heimdall moved like a dancer of war, deflecting every spear with Hofund—each blow carving sparks across the bridge.
Then Mjolnir fired down from above, a guided missile of divine power that smashed Heimdall into the Bifrost with such force the bridge groaned.
Baldur descended, boots touching the bridge gently as behind him an army formed—led by Sif in her radiant Valkyrie armor and Tyr, loyal and grim.
Standing above Heimdall, Baldur summoned Hofund from the ground with a flick of his fingers. He held it for a moment, admiring it.
Then he melted the sword down, dripping golden slag that sizzled on the bridge like venom.
"You should have used the Bifrost to summon an army," Baldur said coldly. "Might've changed something."
Blood pooled from Heimdall's mouth as he smirked. "You think the Bifrost brings the storm?"
He spat blood. "The coming storm doesn't need your bridge."
Sif's voice rang out—tense, sharp. "My King… look up."
Everyone did.
The sky turned black.
Not dark—but voided.
A roar of pressure pulsed through the clouds, and a figure descended slowly through the storm-choked sky.
Then—
Thousands of lightning strikes fell.
Each bolt was precise. Controlled. Furious.
Tyr and the front ranks of Baldur's soldiers were vaporized.
Sif was thrown backward, armor scorched, wings clipped by the raw fury.
Even Baldur staggered, shielding his eyes as his false sunlight was blotted out by true stormlight.
And from above, carried on winds older than language, came a voice.
Not loud.
But undeniable.
"The storm has returned."
And Thor, Cosmic and Eternal, fell through the clouds—his presence casting the Bifrost in blinding white and deep thunder.
BOOOOM!
The Rainbow Bridge shook at his landing and the surface of the Astral sea rippled under scorched waves of wind.
Thor stepped from the charred center of the strike zone, Stormbreaker resting on one shoulder, crackling with electricity.
He met Baldur's gaze, eyes unreadable but boiling with purpose.
"Let's finish what you started," Thor said.
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
"Foolish mortal. You could have ran and hid. Now you end." Baldur surged forward, Gungnir already spinning in his hand, but Thor vanished—Godspeed-fast, a blur streaking past light itself.
The first hit landed before Baldur could blink.
Crack! Stormbreaker collided with Baldur's ribs, launching him backward. Thor was already in the air, calling lightning from every cloud over Asgard, weaving it into his strikes.
A dozen lightning flurries ripped across the sky, angled and synchronized to trap Baldur in a cage of voltage. He barely deflected three before Stormbreaker returned, ripping through his flank like a blade of vengeance.
"H-how?..."
Baldur stumbled, already bleeding golden ichor.
Thor gave no reprieve and descended like judgment itself, each blow backed by the memory of a thousand Thors—young, old, war-torn and righteous—every life he'd once lived converging into a perfect, divine rhythm.
Baldur lunged again, swinging Mjolnir—but Thor anticipated it, pivoted under the swing, and severed Baldur's glowing arm at the shoulder.
The sun-arm fell, burning.
Thor raised Stormbreaker.
"You're no Allfather," he said.
The next hit sent Baldur crashing through the palace gate.
"You're barely my shadow."
Lying in a crater of broken gold and flame, Baldur screamed.
Mjolnir shot toward him and along with Gungnir both divine weapons ignited with ancient runes and melted into his body as his ruined limb reformed, now forged of Uru armor, glowing with primal sunfire and bright gold lightning.
The light around him grew white-gold, distorting reality. The floor beneath him disintegrated. The very air caught fire.
He rose, crackling with Baldurforce, no longer prince, no longer brother.
Elder. God.
He raised his fist and struck once— unleashing an unstable golden sphere with arcs of lightning.
Thor was blasted across the sky, a comet of pain and light, plummeting into the star-splashed Astral Sea.
"YOU ARE NOTHING!!" Baldur yelled and followed after him.
white lightning met sunlit gold lightning.
They tumbled through the Astral Sea, fists crashing like meteors, their power boiling the sea itself.
Thor caught Baldur's arm mid-swing and hurled him upward—smashing straight through a drifting celestial branch of Yggdrasil.
They tore past a hollow trunk where Ratatoskr, the squirrel of the World Tree, was locked in a fierce argument with a giant eagle perched above.
Ratatoskr screeched at Thor, "You again!? I just fixed this branch!"
Neither god noticed—the fight barreled forward.
A tremor split the sky.
A massive shadow swallowed them both whole.
Jormungandr.
They dropped into darkness, crushed in its throat.
Baldur snarled and released a blast that pushed Thor deeper into the Serpent's belly, "Swallowed by the World Serpent should prove a worthy death!"
Thor's eyes flared white, slashing the blast with Stormbreaker before grabbing Baldur's hand. "Then you should join me too brother!"
"Damn you Thor!"
A breath passed with Thor refusing to let go. Then both unleashed twin blasts of lightning and solar flame, ripping through the Serpent's innards. Jormungandr roared, spitting them out in a burst of divine fire.
Still tumbling, they crashed next into a floating shard of space—
Fenris's prison.
The cage cracked, splitting open from the god-forged impact.
Fenris emerged, blinked once—
—and turned tail, sprinting across the void.
Even the beast of Ragnarok had no interest in facing either of them.
Then finally the energy from their clash ruptured the space around them.
A wormhole tore open.
The collision of storm and sun exploded into a cosmic tunnel, flinging them beyond the roots of the World Tree, into the black void of space.
In the silence of the void, Thor floated, arms limp, body cracked and scorched. His red hair drifted like cinders.
Across from him, Baldur hovered, golden light pulsing like a second sun. His Uru-armored form gleamed, barely scratched. Only his wild hair and fractured helmet hinted at the cost of the war.
In his hand, he held Stormbreaker while looking down at Thor, sneering.
"What kind of Thor loses two divine weapons?"
Thor bled from the mouth but still he grinned. Even as Baldur held onto Stormbreaker with the intention of absorbing it.
"You want to know what kind of Thor I am?"
His eyes lit with something new.
White lightning.
"I am the Storm incarnate."
The void convulsed as a cosmic bolt of pure white energy burst from his body, slamming into Baldur.
The upper half of Baldur's face melted, the golden armor around his shoulder cracked open, revealing flickering runes and raw divine muscle.
Baldur shrieked and retaliated, unleashing a sun lance from his chest.
Thor floated through it, the beam unraveling into harmless sparks as it struck his skin.
He was no longer weathering Baldur's wrath.
He was unmaking it.
Thor's voice boomed through the void. "You should've known better than to fight a storm at its center."
Baldur snarled. "You lured me away from Asgard!"
Thor nodded grabbing Stormbreaker as it returned to him. "Where the Odinforce is weaker. That was the plan."
"No!"
Baldur roared and summoned energy from the dozen stars glinting in the distance, compressing them into a burning solar implosion.
The void bent.
Thor raised his hand. Electricity converged. He forged it into a gleaming sword of lightning and sliced through the sunburst, parting it cleanly down the middle.
The blast dispersed into cosmic dust.
Baldur rushed forward, fist blazing.
"I still have your strength—AND Odin's magic!"
He punched at his cheek.
Reality cracked behind Thor's head.
But Thor didn't budge.
He stared at Baldur with divine calm and pointed upward.
Above them, cosmic clouds gathered, spiraling, breathing.
The sky sang.
"I am the Absolute Thor. And you're in the eye of my storm."
Then Thor unleashed everything.
A column of white cosmic lightning descended, coalescing from eternity itself.
It struck Baldur with a howl.
The Baldurforce shattered.
His sun-gold armor melted.
His Uru-arm crumbled.
And Baldur screamed, more god than man—more rage than sense.
Falling, ruined, desperate—Baldur summoned Gungnir, now fused with every last drop of power he still clung to.
"If I die… you die with me!"
He hurled the spear.
It became a collapsing star, glowing with Odin's essence, Thor's strength, and Baldur's final madness.
Thor caught it mid-flight—
—but it exploded.
Space shattered. A galaxy died.
Light vanished.
Sound vanished.
Thor was blown into the void, body limp, flung beyond stars.
Baldur disintegrated in the blast.
Gone.
The void fell silent.
No gods. No suns. No storm.
Only floating embers and ash.
Then—
a faint glint of metal.
Stormbreaker's hilt, spinning through the darkness.
A spark.
A crack of thunder.
An Absolute Thor.
::---------------------------------::
I have no idea if I'll continue this, but the next arc would have been Young Justice.
One of Stormbreaker's ability is to summon the Bifrost bridge- explaining how Thor was able to get back to Asgard.