God Of Gods

Adams chuckled, shaking his head as he took another sip of mead. "Alright, Magnus," he said, a sly grin on his face. "Let's drop the charade."

Magnus arched an eyebrow, his confident smirk faltering just slightly. "Charade? I haven't even—"

"No," Adams cut him off, his tone sharp but calm. "Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying. Save yourself the trouble."

Magnus blinked, genuinely surprised. "I haven't even told you why I'm here."

Adams raised a hand to silence him, and Magnus's mouth snapped shut like an unseen force was at work. Magnus narrowed his eyes, clearly annoyed, but before he could retaliate, he waved a hand. The world around them shifted in an instant.

The lively chaos of the Asgardian celebration vanished, replaced by a vast, empty expanse of silver and white. The ground shimmered like liquid metal, and the horizon stretched endlessly into nothingness. Only Adams and Magnus remained, standing in the surreal stillness.