Back To The Aesir Realm

The skies above the Aesir realm shimmered with hues of gold and azure, a perpetual dawn bathing the land in divine light. As Lucifer and Nezha descended from the void between realms, their arrival was heralded by a ripple in the air—a disruption in the realm's otherwise tranquil energy. The moment their feet touched the gleaming bridge of Bifröst, a low hum resonated through the ether, and within seconds, a figure materialized before them.

Heimdall.

The Watchman of the Gods stood tall, his gleaming armor catching the ethereal light, every line of his form exuding authority. His golden eyes—bright and piercing—narrowed slightly as they fixed on Lucifer. One hand rested on the hilt of his sword, the other clutching the horn of Gjallarhorn, which seemed to vibrate faintly in his grasp. His posture was rigid, like a statue carved from celestial marble, but the slight twitch in his jaw betrayed his unease.