378

[Titan Crisis]

Even judging by appearance alone, Eir didn't lack suitors. Revered as the goddess of herbal medicine, she naturally attracted many admirers, including those who sought her medical expertise.

Among these suitors was Haldo, mentioned by Forseti.

Haldo was the son of the shopkeeper who crafted dragon leather armor for Forseti in the past. A handsome and distinguished warrior, Haldo had made significant battlefield achievements and was the dream lover of many women.

Eir shook her head. "No, he hasn't returned after I turned him down a few times."

Forseti nodded, hesitating before asking, "Eir... Do you plan to remain unmarried?"

Across the universe, higher races generally had low fertility rates and little inclination towards marriage. As Asgardians, a high-ranking and advanced race, the desire for marriage and offspring was uncommon. Yet, over the millennia, most Asgardians married by a thousand years of age and had children by two or three thousand.

Eir, now over two thousand years old, had no shortage of suitors circling Asgard, yet she remained single, a rarity among Asgardians.

Eir fell silent, noticing the candle was nearly extinguished. She fetched a new one. "Looking back there's not much to desire in what my parents had in their lives."

Forseti reached out, touching the candle, its flame flickering before stabilizing.

Eir packed up the dishes. "When are you leaving Asgard?"

"In a few days."

Eir smiled. "I'll prepare a hearty meal for you before you depart."

"Thank you, sister."

Little did anyone anticipate that Thor would remain in a coma for months. During this time, Frigga seemed in perpetual tears, and Odin appeared emotionally unstable.

The most affected by Thor's condition was undoubtedly Little Loki. With Thor comatose, increased scrutiny from parents and teachers fell squarely on him, a predicament of his own making.

On this particular day, Frigga was still at Thor's bedside.

*Crr...* A strange noise suddenly echoed.

Frigga looked around suspiciously but found nothing amiss; her son lay still on the bed.

Just as she dismissed her concerns, the strange noise returned: *Crr, crr...*

Frigga heard it clearly this time—the unusual sound emanated from Little Thor, surprising and delighting her. "Thor?"

She noticed tiny arcs unexpectedly appearing on Little Thor's body.

These small arcs crackled and pulsed, emitting a sound akin to birdsong or the friction of gold and stone—soft yet slightly grating.

*Crack!*

Suddenly, a finger-thick bolt of lightning shot from Little Thor's forehead.

Startled, he awoke with a shout, eyes wide as he sat up abruptly. The sudden motion nearly sent him tumbling off the bed, but Frigga caught him in time.

Frigga stroked Little Thor's cheek, tears of joy streaming down her face. "You've awakened! Thor, my child."

Little Thor blinked, scratching his head in confusion. "Mother, what happened? I remember... I was climbing the Thunder Tree. No, I had already picked the fruit."

*Crr, crr...*

Electric arcs spread uncontrollably over Little Thor's body. He observed one in his hand, surprised. "What's this?"

Frigga watched the arcs for a moment before smiling. "This is fate's gift. Those who endure hardship often receive such gifts."

Realization dawned on Little Thor, excitement bubbling up. "I've awakened my divine power?"

"Yes, and you're Asgard's youngest Powerbearer," Frigga affirmed.

With joy, Little Thor leaped from the bed.

However, Frigga's expression turned somber. "But Thor, there's something you must understand."

Clearly not interested in listening, Little Thor bounced on the bed, fists sparking with arcs.

Reluctantly, Frigga held him close. "Before you, Asgard's youngest Powerbearer was twenty-two. Sadly, he passed at twenty-four."

"Why?" Little Thor's excitement dimmed.

"Because of pride," Frigga explained gently. "My son, remember, divine power is a weapon, not your essence. While pride is natural, a weapon's edge must never define you."

...

Elsewhere in the universe, an unassuming planet orbited its star, day by day, year by year.

Its name was Titan, now the sole domain of the Eternals.

In the vast cosmos, few races bore the title of Eternal. Each such race governed vast galaxies as their domain.

Yet, the Eternals held sway over just one planet—a modest world that struggled to sustain the Eternal race's survival and propagation. This plight was dire.

Within a hall on Titan...

Dozens of Eternals convened, sitting solemnly. One stood out—a bald, purple-skinned giant exuding an unexpected serenity, almost scholarly.

A slender, middle-aged figure spoke gravely, voice resonating through the hall. "Having lost almost all territory for over a millennium, our modest planet's resources can barely support the Eternal race's existence. At best, we might endure a century."

"A mere century?" The leader of the assembly, a mist-shrouded figure, sighed heavily.

"Lord Kronos, is there truly no recourse but to abide by the oath?" Someone looked to him, hopeful.

Kronos hesitated briefly, then shook his head. "No. The oath's power binds us, reinforced by Odin and the three Infinity Gems. None can breach such formidable barriers. We are resigned to guard Titan."

"Perhaps Odin's demise might alter our plight, but a century is too brief. Odin could live a thousand years, at least."

Silence fell upon the hall until the bald, purple-skinned man spoke. "Grandfather."

Kronos turned to him. "Thanos, what do you propose?"

"The Eternals must adapt or perish. While challenging, there is but one path to survival," Thanos declared.

"How?" A voice inquired.