Aldhelm wasn't much of a runner. He did have magic and the strength that came with it, but after sprinting with all his might for several miles, his heart thrummed in his ear as burning spread throughout his body.

At his back, men charged through the thick brush of the jungle, weapons in hand and throttled mana swirling around them.

The legion's advance shook the ground while the clanging of armor echoed for miles. If the enemy hadn't known they were coming, they certainly would now, but that didn't matter. They had no time for stealth, or caution, or a real plan of any kind with a god about to take the field.

Hearing the sounds of battle, Aldhelm brought forth his summoning. His mana flared to life then leaped off his body as orbs of light. Within a few steps, the free-floating magic changed into 30 scantily armored women with pale skin, long black hair, white wings, and beautiful faces, each a perfect copy of Mildrith's concealed by helms.

As Aldhelm came upon the enemy, he almost tripped from the shock of what he saw. He thought Rova would put them to sleep, poison them, or just confuse them in some unseen way. What he didn’t expect was for the orcs to break their lines in favor of killing each other in a battle without sides, just random bloodshed among men with glassy purple eyes.

Slowing only for a second, Aldhelm raced towards the enemy with his long sword raised high and armor humming with magic. Before he was within striking distance, his Valkyries lost their formation to protect their master.

The first orc to confront him lost his jaw as a winged woman several feet shorter than the burly warrior punched through it like an augmented war hammer. Another kicked him in his side snapping his back and sending him flying into the air. A third Valkyrie grabbed the sword he held using it to bisect the next closest orc. As his weapon dropped, another Valkyrie took hold of it creating a tornado of blood as she spun through the orcs that were too busy killing each other to notice the humans advancing on them.

The 30 Valkyries fought as one without Aldhelm never needing to give them instructions. He smiled seeing their minds take shape.

He did not need to tell them how to fight, who to target, or even to protect him. Like most summons that were given time and carefully constructed, seeds of sentient thought were beginning to bloom. Within a few years, Aldhelm would have Mildrith in his own way. There would be deviations between his Valkyrie’s personalities, but they would all love and protect him if he raised them right. In time, they would even be human enough to join him in bed.

While the Valkyries carved their way through the orc lines, the rest of the vellian forces followed behind finishing off anyone left alive. Aldhelm wished he could join them in their relative safety but the further he was from his Valkyries the weaker they became. He rather risks his life now than stay safe only for Vidar’s presence to become necessary. If that happened, every unnamed noble on the field would most likely die which is why every named noble but Aldhelm was not on the field.

“What have you done to us!” screamed an orc over the noise of battle.

He was massive, even for one of his kinds, reaching around seven and a half feet. His skin was paler than his brethren's and two horns curved backward from his forehead. He was most definitely an orc but at the same time wasn't, which most likely made him a demigod, probably the son of the very god the shamans were trying to summon.

Aldhelm decided to play it safe letting his Valkyries do the work for him. Divine abilities were tricky to deal with. This orc could kill with just a look or spin thread into gold; with the divine, you just couldn't know. He could also be nearly as strong as his divine parent or as mortal as any other man, so Aldhelm came to a stop letting his Valkyrie clear the way.

With their borrowed weapons raised, they charged while some took to the sky.

“You people are monsters!” the orc shouted, swinging a massive, spiked ball and chain.

Three Valkyries were hit and sent sprawling while others dodged over and below the chain. Before the orc could make another attack, the Valkyries slashed at him from different angles at the same time, their coordination allowing them to work seamlessly in formation.

The orc backhanded a Valkyrie but missed the rest as they danced out of the way giving him shallow wounds as they moved about. “You humans are cowards. You'd rather corrupt our minds and send these puppets to fight us than face-.”

The orc was cut off by four Valkyrie falling from the sky burying their blades into his back. He quickly spun sending them flying but caught one by the throat. The summoned woman managed to carve a red line across the orc’s chest before he squeezed, shattering her helm in a spray of conjured blood. She quickly then dissolved into nothingness, leaving only her stolen weapon behind.

“And that's why I'm over here,” Aldhelm said to himself. If that demi-God had the power to kill one of his Valkyrie that easily, he would kill him in an instant.

The orc charged forward barreling through the Valkyries. He did not slow when they stabbed at him leaving their weapons embedded in his flesh. It seemed he realized the only real damage he could do before dying was to kill the humans that controlled the monsters that would inevitably slay him.

The rest of the human fighters caught up to Aldhelm's surrounding him in a shield of bodies. They knew if he fell, the day was lost, so the strongest defenders were ready to do whatever it took to keep him alive. Luckily for them, the chance to protect their leader was lost when Rova jumped on the charging orc's shoulders placing her baculus against his temple. With an inaudible chant, she released a bolt of darkness into his head sending blood and brains everywhere.

As the orc demi-god fell, she rolled to her feet and ran towards Aldhelm. It was then he realized that he could not only see her, but he recognized her as well. It made sense for her to not remain invisible if she wanted to speak to him, but there was no reason he could think of to allow herself to be this vulnerable. Rova was a type of person who did not care that her commander could not see her, not if it meant her own safety would be compromised.

“Summon the god! Summon the god! Summon the fucking god!” Rova shouted in panic and then Aldhelm saw it, like something moving so fast past your vision you'd wonder if it was real.

Rova, at the last minute, ducked just in time to avoid the swing of a gigantic sword being held by a horned, winged, dark green, naked monster.

Faster than he could think, Aldhelm’s Valkyries tackled him to the ground. A boom that rattled his air drums accompanied with a slamming force struck him like a defender's shield charge. He felt his armor crack and split as several of his Valkyries shattered into nothingness.

For what felt like a long moment, Aldhelm thought that he'd been hit with a devastating spell. His assumptions were corrected as he lifted his head in Rova’s directions. There were seven images of her moving around the gigantic monster, each launching spells that sent thunderous explosions across the battlefield.

“Was she the one that attacked me?” he thought, noting that Rova’s attacks were truly terrifying.

Aldhelm felt a gust of wind blow across his face whenever one landed, a sure sign that he could not survive one if put to the test. Then the monster swung its sword of sharpened bone at one of the images and put any display of power the noble had ever seen to shame.

He saw no mana in the attack, no trick of magic to extend the blow, but the slash created a wave of destruction that flew past his vision leaving a trench in the ground and blood misting the air from the humans in its way, torn to pieces like paper statues in a storm.

the few surviving Valkyries forced Aldhelm to his feet causing his spinning mind to worsen. He saw to his right the attack that destroyed most of his summons would have killed him if he was just a few feet closer. It carved a path through his men, turning them into a smear. Even the well-armored defenders that were too close were ripped to shreds if not blown away for miles.

Hands grabbed Aldhelm’s forcing him to look ahead at Rova that was shouting at him. Her words couldn't be heard over the destruction the monster was still causing while trying to kill her illusions.

“Summon the fucking god!” he read on her lips.

He took a deep breath, calling on the spark of divinity given to him. With eyes glowing bright, Aldhelm shouted with everything he could muster.

“Vidar!”

****

Vidar walked through a forest bustling with the sounds of life. He’d been walking for weeks or months, definitely not years... probably. The immortal being had more patience than most creatures that walked the worlds, but he could not compare to that of a tree. It was that patience that made him powerless in the face of stubborn dryads.

If he captured even one, his chances of creating his own grove was certain, but he needed to find one first. They’d show themselves to mortals without hesitation, practically begging for a good thrashing but if a god was present, they’d hide.

Since the loss of the old world, no Aesir knew the taste of the lusty tree spirits. That, in particular, did not bother the god. What sparked his rage was that they were the only source of golden apples he knew of.

The fruit of the gods were lost during Ragnarök while Asgard burned like the Olympian grove before. Thankfully, Idun, the goddess that tended to their garden, against her fellow god's wishes sent dryads throughout the worlds to ensure they wouldn't be completely lost.

Those dryads were the only surviving golden apple trees making them more valuable than all the gold on Midgard. without them, children born to the Aesir, Vidar's children would continue to die, most in less than a century.

In Vidar's youth, such a thing was unthinkable. Death only came by way of the draugr, the cold of the Fimbulwinter driving the greatest of men to madness and death, or a great fel beast looking to make a meal of god flesh. Now, time was the enemy was time, and it was a war they'd been losing for a thousand years.

Vidar was closer to finding a dryad now than ever before. His seers and wise men were sure at least one dryad made roots in Alfhiem, on this very continent far away from any civilization calling the world home, but they'd yet to show themself.

Ironically, the women rooted to the land valued their freedom. If a god or a too powerful mortal found one, they’d be chained as toys or drained for magic. That’s exactly what Vidar intended to do when he found a golden Dryad. He’d uproot her by force then plant her in the most secure greenhouse in Gimli, the home of the gods, like what his father had done over a millennium ago in Asgard.

Vidar removed his hood of wolf’s fur revealing muscles tattooed not with arcane runes but with images depicting his victory over the Fenris Wolf. He tossed it on the ground not caring if it was lost. Be it a mile or a world away, the soul bound divine item would return to him in an instant if called.

In the distance, the god heard the rustling leaves against the wind. It was faint but natural with an unmistakable hint of lust.

“Some young dryad can’t keep it in her pants,” he smiles leaping into the air.

Vidar was close to this sampling, or close in terms a god could understand. He lept across the land passing miles in a heartbeat but took care not to land like a comet by pushing against the ground with the raw power of his godhood to land with ease of feather.

The Aesir king cursed as he felt nothing but woodland critters in the forested expanse and a lingering sense of amusement from his escaped query.

“Just give me what I want and I’ll leave!” he yelled, his voice rushing through the air for 100 miles. “The apples are enough, just name your gods damned price!”

Vidar was met with silence. Many nearby animals in the area were killed by his wailing. The rest hid or ran from the explosion of sound while many creatures just didn't move as if a breath, a single twitch would bring the god's wrath.

“I’m sick of this.” He raised his right foot. “Fuck you Gia, and fuck your fucking rules! Let’s see how you like my boot up your ass!”

Vidar brought his boot down. He'd destroy this forest deform the land and crumble mountains along with the intent to destroy everything that called the ground their home. There was a chance a Dryad would survive, then he could force it to find its sisters. But his boot missed the ground as the world sunk in on itself causing him to fall forward.

Before he face-planted, vines wrapped around his neck, arms, and legs hoisting the god into the air. Using his endless strength, Vidar tore his arms and neck free but the vines on his feet whipped him upwards at terrifying speed releasing him at his zenith.

The god flew through the air, the sky growing darker as he neared the void. He'd have to be patient again, wait to fall to the world or travel the god road if he was lost in the cold, to the lifeless nothing that was the space between worlds, but a vine wrapped around his neck forcing him back to the ground with an explosion of fire, like a hammer on the face of Alheim.

Feeling more vines encircling his feet, Vidar used his divine nature making him a waking mountain but still a man. He rooted himself to the ground causing Alfheim itself to shudder as the ground shifted under the god’s mountainous weight.

“You can’t move me now, so you might as well give up!” Vidar laughed.

His amusement was cut short when the ground that should have been under his control opened under him.

“Cunt,” the god said then fell into the darkness of Alfhiem’s depths.

He released a powerful breath sending himself flying against a wall that turned to sand as soon as he touched it. After repeating his attempts to end his fall several more times, Vidar decided to climb out of the pit after reaching its bottom.

A few minutes later, the god found the bottom using his face. It caused him no real harm, but he cursed at getting dust in his eyes.

“Go home Aesir,” said a feminine voice from somewhere in the darkness.

“Give me a few apples and I'll happily go,” Vidar said, still rubbing dirt from his eyes.

“That would only entice you to come back,” the voice replied. “I don’t want you or your roads anywhere near my children.”

Vidar would have replied with something snarky and depraved, but the pit collapsed in on itself, burying the god under the immeasurable weight of the surface world. This wasn’t the first time he'd found himself in the bowls of a world and like before he claimed.

Just like he expected, when Vidar found his way to the surface the landscape changed. The forest was replaced by a desert, one on the other side of Alfheim, half a world away.

The god groaned and started running at a relaxed pace. He could make it back to the forest in just under a week with no sleep, but swimming through the serpents-filled oceans would add several days to his journey. His biggest problem was what to do once he returned.

He couldn’t distinguish between dryads and normal trees and with their ability to camouflage finding any if not the one he sought was impossible. Random destruction only brought Gai’s wrath down on him, which he could survive but not defeat. Maybe if Yule were by his side, his son could do something about the titan, but he’d probably join her for the amusement of seeing his father buried.

A disturbance from within stopped Vidar in his tracks “What do they want now?” He shrugged his shoulders. “Well, I could use the distraction. It's not like Gia will bother to move my body farther away while I’m gone. I’m already as far as she could take me.”

Closing his eyes, Vidar let his mind be pulled from his body. Without feeling the transition, he opened his eyes on a battlefield filled with dead orcs, humans, and the pungent smell of divinity in the air.

“Aesir!” screamed a raspy voice.

Vidar looked at its owner, finding what appeared to be some sort of Christian demon without the goat hooves and red skin.

“And you are?” Vidar asked nonplussed, trying and failing to place this creature. “Oh shit. Where’s my summoner?”

He turned his back to the monster eyeing the human forces that were in full retreat. A man in the gaudy armor Bryers preferred was being carried away by a woman in a tank top, thick work pants, and boots, a very nice pair of boots in Vidar’s opinion.

With them clear, ish, he activated his divine nature, sinking and quaking the ground in a circle for miles as he rooted to it just before the monster’s sword bit into his neck.

Vidar held firm but the land shifted with the blow, sending tremors through the ground. Wild mana raced in every direction vaporizing bodies of the fallen and killing those without the strength to repel it.

Vidar grabbed the sword with his hand moving it away while the monster fought against him with all his strength. He touched his neck wound with a hand, finding a shallow cut only slightly worse than what paper could do to mundane skin.

“I am Chernabog, the black god!” the monster roared.

Vidar broke the bone blade between his fingers like it was a dried-out piece of wood. “Never heard of you.”

Vidar punctuated his words by throwing a fist at Chernabog. The dark god dodged to the side and quickly jumped into the air using his wings to gain altitude.

No explosion of godly wrath flew from Vidar’s attack. Adding his pantheons god pool mana hardly benefited his fist. If throwing the weight of a mountain behind a punch wasn’t enough to defeat an enemy, adding just a bit more power was pointless.

Chernabog circled Vidar knowing full well that brute force would get him nowhere. The dark god of the orcs concentrated power in his hand forming a green javelin that crackled with red and black wild mana.

The likelihood of Vidar being hurt by such a weapon was low, but when dealing with gods, he thought it best to take no chances. In moments like these, he thought back to Balder’s ridiculous death and how it set off the destruction of the old world. Luckily, neither this Chernabog nor himself was in any danger of dying thanks to only being here in spirit, not body.

Right as Chernabog threw his weapon, Vidar casually kicked the ground with the back of his heel. In less than a second, the earth in front of him shot into the air as a perfectly square high rise large enough to fit a small town upon.

The javelin struck Vidar’s creation, demolishing it with an explosion that chased away clouds and sent boulders flying for miles. Nothing in the immediate area survived as the forest was cleared away by the devastation.

The aftermath of the god’s attack left colored lightning striking at random. Mage bolts formed in the highly charged air firing indiscriminately. Wild incorporeal minds started to form as uncontrolled divine power coalesced, forming creatures yet to be named. At the center, Vidar stood, just surprised that he was forced back five feet.

“Don’t you care if your people get caught up in this?” Vidar yelled into the maelstrom of power still raging around him.

Chernabog dropped like a stone from the sky. As he hit the ground, his body dissolved into a black mist then came back together as a completely different entity.

“Your piece of shit humans poisoned the minds of my people then killed the remaining shamans before I was invoked. The few left would have died long before they could find another tribe or would have been captured by you as slaves.”

Chernabog spoke without anger as if stating facts. This was obviously not the same creature that wildly attacked Vidar the moment he saw him. This was a god of civility, not wrath and vengeance; not something Vidar expected from barbaric orcs.

As the dust cleared, Vidar got a good look at the previously monstrous creature. He still had horns but lost his wings and was now of a more reasonable height of seven feet. He wore what could only be called a suit for orcs like any human noble. There was no shirt under his black blazer with green stripes allowing his chiseled physique to be on display.

Chernabog tucked his hands in his pants and walked over with a steady pace. “Tell me Aesir scum, why did you attack my people?”

“Hells if I know,” Vidar replied with a shrug. “I’m not even sure where we are. Is this even Midgard?”

Chernabog scoffed. “All you humans these days are barbarians. Have you ever heard of the words peace or diplomacy?”

“Have you ever heard the words, get the fuck off my land or die,” Vidar quipped.

Chernabog’s power flared with his anger. Smoke-like power came from his suit charged with black lighting that formed into creatures with long sharp teeth snapping at the air. “This is not your land! This tribe has lived here undisturbed for generations!”

Vidar looked side to side and then behind himself and chuckled. “What tribe?”

Chernabog lost his composure and charged at Vidar as he laughed. The smoke around his body collected around his hands that ballooned in size and length. Failing to stifle his laughter completely, Vidar caught both fists with ease and decided they were still having a conversation.

“You ugly swamp skin bastard. Beating me is impossible.” Vidar took three steps forward forcing Chernabog back. “In a test of strength, I always win.” He began to slowly rotate dragging the struggling orc god with him. “You could be the strongest thing alive.” He quickly released Chernabog’s hands, grabbing them again by the forearm before he could escape. “You could lift planets, but I’m always going to be stronger. It’s my nature.” Vidar’s voice grew louder and more jovial as he went on. “It’s how I killed Fenris! It’s how I’m going to kill you! And it's why whatever land I stand on belongs to me!”

Pulling Chernabog towards him, Vidar kicked him square in the chest, his boot breaking through his body and exiting out his back. Chernabog fell to the ground with Vidar’s boot still in his chest.

Releasing his hands Vidar huffed. “You shapeshifters don't die easily.”

Removing his boot from the god writhing in pain, Vidar released his divine nature and jumped reaching the clouds. His Fenris Cloak appeared which unbeknownst to him, angered Gia who was trying to find a place she could hide it permanently. As he fell, Vidar used one of the cloak's abilities. He grew massive within a few seconds, almost tall enough to step over the walls surrounding Vellia without jumping.

He landed on one foot with Chernabog beneath his sole and divine nature active. The ground buckled under the mountainous weight. Tremors were felt from hundreds of miles away. As if on a disc, a part of the jungle rose into the sky shining sunlight down on subterranean creators beneath. Waves were born from the impact, sent to lands unknown by the god, and to other worlds threw rifts at sea. The dust cloud that formed would drop the temperature in the area by several degrees for the next few months, killing most vegetation and the creatures depending on it to survive.

When Vidar shrank back to his normal size, he stood on the edge of the canyon he just created in deep contemplation. “Maybe I went a bit too far.” He felt a stinging sensation in both his hands. Looking at them, he saw whatever magic Chernabog used ate away at his flesh. “Not like this is my body. Now, where's my summoner?”