The sky still sizzled from the energy that had ripped it open.
What remained was a faint shimmer, slowly fading, like the afterglow of a god's arrival.
And down below—cracked earth, a heavy pulse of pressure still lingering in the wind.
Then boots hit the ground. Heavy, plated, royal.
Thor.
Long blond hair swaying behind his broad frame, Mjölnir strapped to his back. His armor still had the old scuffs from battles long past, and behind him, five Asgardian paladins stepped through the rift, their cloaks fluttering with the last gust of divine wind.
He looked around.
This world was… quiet. Too quiet. No celebration. No welcoming. Just smoke.
He walked forward, scanning the land with narrowed eyes.
"This isn't Alfheim," one of the paladins muttered.
Thor ignored him. His gaze was fixed east.
"That pulse… it was him. Has to be," Thor muttered, jaw clenched. "Kratos. You escaped once. But not this time."
They walked. The air was getting thick.
Ash floated in the wind like black snow. The smell hit next—burned wood, roasted flesh, and something worse underneath.
They reached the village.
Or what used to be one.
Charred houses. Collapsed beams. Blood still soaked into the soil. But here and there—signs of life. Cracked bowls. Scattered toys. Scratched messages on the walls, warnings etched by shaking hands.
Then they saw it: a hut with one wall still intact. Someone had drawn symbols in chalk. Symbols of protection, crude and desperate.
Thor walked closer.
"They fought something here," one paladin said.
"No," Thor corrected. "They were hunted."
The survivors spotted them. From behind ruined homes and half-scorched fences, eyes peeked out—then widened in fear.
Doors slammed shut.
A mother pulled her child back. One man whispered frantically and disappeared into a cellar.
"Wait—" one of the paladins called. "We mean no harm! What happened here?"
No answer. Just footsteps fleeing. The wind carried one word:
"Demons."
Thor stiffened.
"…Demons?"
Another paladin exchanged a glance. "This land is plagued, it seems."
Thor squinted at the burned horizon. His voice dropped.
"Demons don't belong here. Not like this. Not on Midgard."
He reached out and pressed a hand to the scorched earth. A faint pulse echoed back. Blood. Death. Rage.
And something else. A deeper presence.
He looked up, thoughtful. His expression darkened.
"Hades?"
One paladin hesitated. "But how? This isn't Olympus either."
Thor clenched his fists.
"This isn't just chaos. Something ripped through the balance. And Kratos was in the center of it."
He turned to the others.
"Search the area. Look for his trail. He always leaves a mess behind."
Another glance toward the villagers now hiding behind barricades, whispering about devils and beasts.
"This land has seen war. But now it's worse than that," Thor said quietly.
He looked at the horizon again.
"And if Kratos brought the storm with him… we bring the thunder."