Midgard Hunt Pat 4/2

A rainbow pillar erupted from the depths of the sea, unleashing its devastating force upon the already ravaged beach. Where once a serene shoreline had stretched, now only utter destruction remained in the wake of the pillar's emergence. Those who stood witness to this cataclysm were momentarily blinded by a blinding white light that engulfed the entire landscape. Amidst the radiance, the air resonated with voices brimming with an insatiable thirst for battle. However, as swiftly as it had materialized, the light vanished, leaving behind only the tumultuous sea.

The remnants of the climactic clash between numerous lords from distant realms were erased, inconspicuous to the denizens of Midgard who believed the battle had reached its conclusion. Yet for those who hailed from other worlds, the lingering horrors spawned by such encounters would persist long after. Haemon, sensing the encroaching doom, knew he must retreat swiftly to avert further catastrophe.

Taking shelter beneath a colossal icy boulder, Haemon sought respite and attempted to recover from his grievous wounds. However, unlike before, his injuries refused to heal. Dark blood incessantly seeped from his battered armor, while its valiant attempts to mend his shattered form proved futile. Each time a wound closed, it violently reopened, causing shattered bones to pierce his very organs.

Haemon endured excruciating pain, surpassing any torment he had previously known. "Ha-ha! It has been an eternity since such profound agony has embraced me!" he howled through gritted teeth, as a ghastly mixture of slime and blood oozed from his trembling lips. Despite his renowned determination in battle, every attempt to rise from beneath the boulder ended in immediate collapse. His spine remained severed, leaving him devoid of even the slightest ability to move any part of his body.

Nevertheless, the indomitable warrior adamantly refused to surrender to his wounds, even as he comprehended the futility of his current state. Time and time again, he mustered all his remaining strength to stand, driven by an unwavering desire to vanquish those who had audaciously inflicted such injuries upon him. Yet, with each new endeavor, he only plummeted back to the icy ground, subjecting himself to ever-increasing torment.

The blessing of the icy boulder and the creatures it summoned provided a crucial yet fleeting respite for Haemon, granting him the precious time he needed to regain his strength. As his sacrificed eye glowed with a radiant golden hue, he tapped into profound knowledge of the magic that flowed through the nine realms. Within his mind, a tumultuous whirlwind of runic symbols and mystical images unfolded, triggering a primal outcry that reverberated from the depths of his being.

This inner scream belonged to the dark entity that had plagued Haemon since time immemorial. It clawed and gnashed at the barriers of his mind, an insatiable hunger for bloodshed and relentless battle. From the very day of Haemon's birth, this beast's presence had pursued him, demanding the renunciation of all things luminous and an embrace of the eternal embrace of death. It despised the path Haemon had chosen, as he increasingly relied on blades, magic, and his myriad abilities, forsaking his primal instincts.

Now, Haemon found himself ensnared in a web of intrusive thoughts, worrisome doubts, and chaotic emotions that eclipsed the simplicity of fear and the certainty of death he had once known. In the days of his youth, when he was cast into the abyss, the creature reveled in these dark urges, delighting in the infernal landscape where it hunted its prey with a sinister and unyielding prowess. Yet, it now languished, chained deep within the recesses of Haemon's subconscious, its feeble roar heard only on rare occasions. The beast understood Haemon's abhorrence and his relentless desire to be free of its influence. However, an agonizing dilemma presented itself—for it was this very creature that had bestowed upon Haemon unparalleled resilience, longevity, and power. Despite his loathing, could he truly turn his back on such potent gifts?

Despite enduring countless blows and curses, the indomitable beast persisted, unwavering in its commitment to share its power with Haemon. However, the tipping point in their harrowing journey arrived when the warrior dared to father a child and ventured into the realms of abhorrent magic. In a fury previously unknown, the monster unleashed its wrath, issuing a dire ultimatum: either Haemon would surrender his body completely or face inevitable annihilation.

"Do you yearn for freedom!?" Haemon ground his teeth, sinking them into his right hand, his eyes filled with anxiety as he witnessed black veins slithering across his skin. Agonizing pain surged through him, as two ominous black wings adorned with menacing spikes violently burst forth from his back. With savage determination, the beast impaled its own neck using these malevolent wing spikes, compelling the warrior to release his grip.

"If liberation is what you seek, then so be it, creature!" Haemon's claws elongated, their sharp tips glinting ominously as he embarked on a grisly self-destruction, starting with his own countenance.

******* 

Elivagar 

"In which realm have we arrived?" Kuat asked, his voice tinged with shock, as he swiftly turned his head from side to side. A completely unfamiliar landscape unfolded before his eyes, a space unlike anything he or Shango had ever witnessed. Kuat had only heard tales of such realms, often referred to as the origins of primordial chaos. It was here that life itself was said to take form, where the mighty primordials emerged, birthing the very essence of existence. Within this realm, nature revealed itself through colossal trees and frigid seas, coexisting alongside cosmic storms and black holes that devoured lifeless worlds.

"Welcome to Elivagar!" Heimdall declared with a wide smile, his tone resonating with pride.

"This is beyond belief!" exclaimed Shango, his eyes gleaming with a childlike joy as he absorbed the awe-inspiring beauty surrounding them.

"While I would gladly guide you through these tropical realms, we must first attend to this matter," Asir interjected, pointing his finger toward the floating shard of ice.

"Then let us begin!" Kuat declared, his fists clenched with determination.

"We need not hold back, girls. Let us unleash the full extent of our power!" Heimdall's voice resounded with a sly smile. Kuat and Shango followed suit, their forms shifting and transforming as they embraced their true celestial nature.

Brilliant flames enveloped Kuat, transfiguring him into a radiant embodiment of the sun itself. His physical features dissolved, replaced by an aura that radiated the brilliance of a thousand suns. A host of golden spears wreathed in solar fire materialized behind him, poised to strike down any who dared defy their master's might. Above his head, a majestic crimson sun ascended, casting its scorching light upon the battlefield.

With meticulous precision, Kuat extended his hand toward the icy prison that held the Olympian captive. From his palm surged an infernal beam of pure solar energy, surpassing mortal flames in its searing intensity. The beam surged forth, obliterating the ice in an instant, reducing it to ethereal vapor amidst a blinding flash of light.

"If Surtur himself were to confront such power, even he would likely feel a mere tickle!" murmured Asir in awe, stroking his flowing white beard as he observed the spectacle. Though his transformation was less dramatic than the others, Asir sprouted a magnificent crown of gleaming gray antlers atop his head, resembling those of a majestic stag. He also grew slightly taller, his imposing presence heightened.

With a resounding crash that reverberated through the battlefield, the shattered remnants of the ice prison scattered in all directions. Escape was now an impossibility, for Heimdall, ever watchful, would allow no such reprieve, his keen sight capturing every detail.

Suddenly, Heimdall's vigilant gaze detected a dark figure swiftly approaching Kuat from the shadows, emanating unmistakable hostility and a thirst for violence. Odinsson briefly pondered warning his ally but swiftly dismissed the notion. After all, what purpose would it serve other than depriving Kuat of the opportunity to showcase his power?

The dark figure materialized instantly beside Kuat, its form swirling in shadows, embodying its repulsive monstrosity in all its unnatural glory. This horrific chimera combined the features of a lion, a goat, a snake, and a bat, its mismatched parts coming together in a nightmarish form.

"So, you truly are a chimera!" Kuat calmly uttered, his voice laced with a mixture of awe and determination. With a flick of his finger, he effortlessly impaled the creature's hideous body with a multitude of golden solar spears. However, to everyone's surprise, the beast showed no signs of retreat, remaining unfazed by Kuat's holy flames that engulfed its form. The abomination regenerated at an alarming rate, outpacing the destruction inflicted upon it.

A sinister, deranged laughter echoed from the creature, sending shivers down the spines of all who heard it. In a sudden, swift motion, it lunged forward, sinking its repulsive fangs into Kuat's shoulder, a spray of ichor staining the air. Though its aim had been Kuat's neck, Heimdall intervened just in time, partially blocking the attack with his great axe.

"Ymir, kill me now! I can no longer bear to witness its thoughts!" In Asir's eyes, a mixture of profound shock and fear appeared, a rare sight for one with his perceptive abilities. Asir possessed the uncanny gift of delving into the hidden depths of others, reading their souls and minds with a single gaze. Even animals couldn't escape his penetrating scrutiny. But before him stood a foe whose mind echoed with a single maddening refrain: "Flesh, blood, guts, bones!" A chorus of voices, ranging from demonic to twistedly childlike, resounded simultaneously in his head.

In retaliation, Kuat unleashed a powerful solar beam from his palm, striking the creature's hideous face with the force of a star, momentarily forcing it to retreat. "This creature has descended into mindless savagery!" Kuat exclaimed, his words filled with a mix of frustration and determination. He continued to unleash a relentless barrage of deadly beams upon the monstrosity before him. Meanwhile, Asir, devoid of his usual reliance on his special eyes, engaged the beast in close combat, his antlers and claws flashing with lightning speed. It proved to be an immense challenge for him, as he had honed his abilities around his unique perception. Now, with his strongest skill rendered useless against this adversary, he had no choice but to rely on his agility, strength, and centuries of battle-honed reflexes.

"He is not the sole monster in this realm!" Shango declared with thunderous force, unleashing a torrent of lightning bolts from his gaping jaws. The bolts surged forth, propelling the monstrous creature far into the abyss with a resounding roar.

To the astonishment of all who bore witness, the shaman's true form was unveiled—an awe-inspiring storm dragon meticulously woven from the most potent thunderclouds. Its colossal wings, ablaze with crackling electricity, unfurled to their fullest extent as it readied itself. The dragon stood poised, resolute in its intent to vanquish the abomination from the depths and forever purge the realms of its dark presence.

******* 

Billions of years cascaded like fleeting moments as time ceaselessly flowed on. Amidst the boundless expanse of the cosmos, the enigmatic blue man's tranquility drifted. Navigating the celestial tapestry unfurled before him, he silently observed the birth and demise of countless worlds across the vast epochs.

His consciousness delved ever deeper into the contemplation of life's most profound enigmas. Was there anyone or anything across the realms capable of even remotely comprehending his true essence and boundless power? Or was he destined to be the solitary entity forever ascending to unimaginable heights, forever severed from understanding?

Such often befalls mortal souls who dare venture too close to the truth's precipice, risking the erosion of their own sanity. Swathed in their conceit, they conceive themselves as gods incarnate, yet the true essence of power eludes their grasp, rendering them as insignificant as ants who chance upon the fractured remnants of a beehive, deceived by their fleeting fortune.

And yet, just as with all mortals ensnared by hubris, the blue man's folly was destined to be irrevocably shattered by the unwavering loyalty and unwavering duty of a servant eternally bound to powers far mightier still.

The silence of space shattered under a wave of passionate applause, capturing the attention of the blue man. He turned his head slowly, his gaze landing on a humanoid figure adorned in jester attire. The man tilted his head, studying the enigmatic creature who clapped his hands with tireless enthusiasm. To the man's astonishment, this being had somehow transcended the vacuum of space, emitting sounds that defied the surroundings. The blue man intended to address the peculiar creation, but before he could utter a word, the jester spoke, bowing with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Oh, great Doctor Manhattan, are not all the secrets of the universe within your grasp?"

"I once believed I held access to all knowledge, but encountering such an intriguing specimen as yourself," the Doctor responded with a tinge of melancholy, extending his hand toward the jester, ready to unleash his extraordinary powers.

"No, no, Doctor, let us not engage in mere playfulness. We wouldn't want to soil my splendid cloak, would we? Instead, let us partake in an exchange of knowledge," the jester interjected, nodding his head and dismissively gesturing with his hands.

"If you possess information, then the answer is yes," the Doctor replied, maintaining his somber countenance.

"Wow, you've grown interested swiftly, Papa Smurf!" the jester exclaimed, scratching his head in surprise. "Information is the most coveted resource, and one can go to great lengths to obtain it," the Doctor calmly explained, projecting a vivid visualization of human history into his open palm.

"As you wish, Smurfette. But let us not lament your words later! Ha-ha! Shake my hand, and the knowledge shall be yours, should you desire it, alchemist!" The jester extended his hand for a handshake.

For a brief but peculiar moment, the blue man hesitated, refraining from immediately reaching out his hand in response.

"What troubles you, Doc? Weren't we just conversing about knowledge and all its nonsense? Or has your enthusiasm waned? Or perchance, are you wary of germs? Wait a moment, Doc!" The jester swiftly wiped his hand on his cloak and extended it again. "There, that should put you at ease!"

Manhattan, defying caution, dared to touch the jester's hand, sealing the fate of his already fragile mind. The moment his fingers made contact, a tumultuous torrent of visions from the ancient past surged into his consciousness. In these ethereal depths, gods of legends and tales clashed in epic battles, rending the fabric of reality itself. Unfathomable horrors rent the world asunder, their destructive power akin to playthings in the hands of capricious children.

Amidst this maddening chaos, a solitary figure loomed tall, enthroned upon a grotesque seat crafted from a macabre assemblage of corpses. The countenance of this enigmatic being remained concealed behind a veil of swirling chaos and impenetrable darkness, while its mutilated form dripped with the blood and innards of countless fallen. A myriad of worlds burned in solemn conflagration, their silent screams stifled by the command of the malevolent sovereign seated upon the gory throne.

The doctor and the faceless madman locked eyes, the weight of the abominable sight overwhelming the doctor's fragile psyche. In a paroxysm of terror, he cried out, his voice a desperate plea akin to that of a frightened child beseeching the shelter of a protective mother. "What is this? What have I witnessed?" the doctor implored, his voice trembling with raw fear, his hands instinctively shielding himself from the horrors that unfolded before him.

The jester, smirking with deranged amusement, responded, "Oh, dear doctor, you have beheld the divine spectacle. A privilege granted only once, free of charge. Should you desire further glimpses, however, a price must be paid!" With a flourish of his hand, he indicated a demand for monetary compensation.

"You've witnessed it as well?!" the doctor exclaimed, his voice slightly calmer as he peered cautiously through his trembling hands. "I, too, have experienced such horrors in my own time, although I was not as fortunate as you." The jester's tone turned somber as he touched his white mask, his eyes reflecting a hidden sorrow.

"You've seen him?" The doctor's voice trembled, his mind still haunted by the haunting images he had witnessed mere moments ago.

"Fortunately, I have not beheld the lord in all his terrible glory, but I can assure you that I have caught but a fleeting glimpse of his immense power," the jester replied, his grip on his own shoulders tightening as he began chanting a haunting melody with fervent intensity.

"But do you know his name? Please... No... I implore you, reveal his name to me!" The doctor seized the jester's tattered clothing, desperation etched in his eyes.

"My lord bears many names! His true name has become forbidden, whispered only in shadows. Few dare to utter it anymore, save for the chosen ones and their progeny! But I, personally, prefer to call him the Father of Silence."