6 Reactions (EDITED)

(Aesheim/Earth – General POV)

For the past few days, the land itself had been… different.

The rivers flowed richer, the forests grew lusher, and the winds carried a warmth that had never been there before. Aesheim—Earth, as the mortals would one day call it—pulsed with newfound vitality.

And the gods, spirits, and creatures that called this world home? They noticed.

Among the flowers and moss, a gathering of fairies flitted about, their delicate wings shimmering like spun glass. They giggled and gossiped, their voices blending like a melody woven into the fabric of nature.

"The Goddess is in love," one fairy sang, twirling midair like a falling petal.

"And she hasn't even blessed us yet!" another pouted.

"She has been busy," a third fairy giggled, spinning in delight. "It's been days, and she has already forgotten us!"

Their laughter rang through the air like wind chimes, a chorus of mischief and joy.

And beneath that sky, where the world whispered in the language of blooming flowers and sighing leaves, the reason for this change lay in the arms of her chosen.

Gaia nestled against Endercs chest, her head rising and falling with the rhythm of his slow, steady breaths.

A soft, contented sigh escaped her lips.

Ender, meanwhile, was… just going with the flow.

Literally.

The past few days had been a blur, and at some point, he was just glad he had near-unlimited stamina.

After all, what was he supposed to do? Say no? To Gaia, the literal Mother Earth, who had all but declared him her husband on the spot?

Yeah, no.

Instead, he had embraced his fate like a true protagonist—one who had somehow stumbled into an overpowered build without even trying.

And clearly, Gaia was very, very satisfied with her choice.

Her fingertips traced lazy circles on his chest, a silent declaration of possession. Her eyes, filled with warmth and undisguised admiration, gazed up at him like he was the most precious thing in all existence.

It was… a little overwhelming.

Ender, staring at the sky above, finally broke the silence.

"…I don't know what I did."

Gaia chuckled—a soft, melodic sound, like the laughter of rivers.

"You married me," she answered simply, her lips curling into a smile that held both amusement and absolute certainty.

Ender blinked.

And then, after a long pause—

"…Fair point."

(Jotunheim – The Land of Ice and Giants)

The icy winds howled as Buri, the First of the Asgardians, admired his latest creation—a colossal ice dragon sculpted from the very glaciers of Jotunheim.

Its crystalline scales shimmered, its wings stretched wide enough to cast a shadow over mountains, and its mighty maw… was currently spewing out a pathetic puff of frosty breath instead of an earth-shaking roar.

Buri frowned.

"Something's missing…" he muttered, stroking his beard.

It had the form, the ferocity, and even a little bit of frost-breath action, but… it lacked something vital.

It lacked soul.

He folded his massive arms and sighed. "Maybe I should consult Gaia."

The moment he spoke her name, the entire realm trembled. The glaciers cracked, the mountains shuddered, and a very distinct energy ripple swept through Jotunheim like a cosmic alarm bell.

Buri froze mid-thought. His ancient, all-seeing eyes narrowed in recognition of the force behind that energy.

His fingers twitched toward the bridge of his nose.

"What did you do, sister?" he grumbled.

The ice dragon, despite its monstrous size, gave an uncertain shiver like it, too, knew some serious divine shenanigans were afoot.

Buri sighed deeply.

He looked back at his creation, then toward the distant fiery lands of Muspelheim.

Then, an idea hit him.

"A wedding gift!" He grinned. "The Casket of Ancient Winters?"

…No. Laufey would throw a massive tantrum.

But this… He turned back to the dragon.

"Congratulations, you're officially a wedding present!" he declared, patting its massive snout. The dragon blinked at him.

(Heaven – Not the 10th Realm, Just… Heaven.)

In a celestial garden where golden roses bloomed and holy doves gossiped about sinners, Yahweh, the Supreme God of Creation, was hard at work.

Sketchbook in one hand. Watering can in the other.

Because even good beings needed a hobby.

He had tried dinosaurs—big, cool, kinda dumb—and they were fun for a while, but they weren't quite what he wanted.

Mammals had potential, but… well, they died too easily when some god sneezed in their direction and kept getting tempted by apples.

He needed something better.

Something pure.

Something that—wait a minute.

"What if corruption could be seen?" He tapped his chin, intrigued.

Better yet—

"What if it could be purified?" He mused.

"Wings," he decided. "They must have wings. A symbol of freedom… and holy powers!"

Then, like all artists, he immediately hit a creative block.

He sighed and sat on a celestial bench, gazing at the divine garden. His halo tilted slightly as he pondered.

That's when he felt it.

A pulse.

A very distinct pulse of Earth's new vibrancy. It sang through the cosmos like an orchestra playing the "Just Got Married" tune.

Yahweh smirked.

"Well, well, well. Gaia, you minx, already working on your next big project?"

He stood, stretching like a craftsman ready to make his magnum opus.

"I suppose it's only fair I send a wedding gift."

His divine gaze swept over his garden, eyes twinkling with inspiration.

A chuckle escaped him.

"Hmm… What if I made an army of superpowered, six-winged maiden warriors with fiery swords?"

Silence.

The doves stared.

The roses trembled.

Even the sun above paused for a second.

Then Yahweh grinned.

"Yeah. That sounds awesome."

(The Great Temple of Set – The Reptilian Throne)

Darkness reigned in the colossal obsidian temple where Set, the Elder God of Reptiles, Evil, and Magic, brooded dramatically atop his jagged throne.

The air was thick with oppressive energy as if the universe itself was rolling its eyes at the sheer amount of villain monologuing about to happen.

His seven serpentine heads swayed, each one hissing its own grievances.

"It's her," he growled, voices overlapping in a chaotic, almost cartoonishly evil harmony. "That wretched sister of mine... Gaia."

His slitted eyes narrowed with extreme jealousy as he sensed the unmistakable surge of life from Earth.

A surge that he didn't cause.

A surge that was making everything prettier and more fertile, unlike him.

"Her union with that... thing has made the earth stronger, more alive!"

His claws tightened on the throne's armrests, which, despite being crafted from the bones of ancient titans, now bore noticeable claw marks—evidence of his endless frustration.

His gaze swept across his domain, where his beloved dinosaurs—his 'perfect' creations—stalked the lands.

They were massive. Majestic. Powerful.

And, unfortunately, not having nearly as much fun as whatever Gaia was doing down there.

Set sneered, his many mouths curling into grotesque grins.

"She dares to favor those pathetic, weak little mammals."

His forked tongues flicked in disgust.

"Those… scurrying, soft-boned rodents she calls 'the future'!"

His voice rose in sheer disbelief, shaking the temple as he waved his many arms dramatically.

"Future?! My dinosaurs are the pinnacle of creation! They don't need to evolve! They are already perfect!"

A chorus of terrifying roars filled the air as his dinosaurs, loyal yet entirely oblivious to his tantrum, roared in unison.

It was awe-inspiring. It was fearsome.

It was also Set's only source of happiness.

But his moment of villainous satisfaction didn't last.

No, because he knew Gaia was probably down there right now, glowing in her divine beauty, being worshipped by adorable fluffy creatures, and laughing while her husband held her like a love-struck fool.

The very thought made his scales itch with rage.

Set clenched his fists. "Enough!"

His claws scraped against the armrest again. There was now a very deep groove.

"No more shall these mammals infest the world that should belong to my 'creations'!"

He rose dramatically, his serpentine heads hissing in unison as he extended his massive clawed hand toward his dino-legions.

"Kill them. Kill every last one of those pests. Tear them from their burrows, their nests, their holes in the ground! Let their cries echo across the land until all that remains is the glorious silence of my perfection!"

The dinosaurs, hearing their god's booming decree, immediately went on an instinct-driven rampage.

They charged. They roared. They stomped.

…And within seconds, they started chasing their own tails, getting distracted by trees, and occasionally eating each other because their 'apex predator' brains were programmed with all instinct and zero strategy.

Set's victorious grin twitched.

"…Oh, for Chaos' sake."

His many hands massaged his temples. "Why did I make them so aggressive and dumb?"

One particularly large carnivore took a moment to roar triumphantly at the sky, only to trip on a rock and crash into a herd of equally dumb herbivores.

Set groaned.

But no, no—he couldn't lose focus! Gaia needed to suffer for her foolish choices!

His eyes gleamed maliciously as he whispered to himself:

"Let her see."

His many tails coiled and uncoiled as he imagined Gaia watching in horror as her precious mammals were chased down by his glorious, PERFECTLY designed reptiles.

"Let her witness the futility of her love for those vermin."

A small, satisfied chuckle left his lips—just as one of his T-Rexes tripped over another dinosaur and faceplanted into a swamp.

Set closed his eyes and counted to ten.

"Let… her… bow to me…" he gritted out through clenched fangs.

He squeezed his claws together dramatically, ignoring the utter chaotic incompetence of his dinosaurs as they accidentally trampled over their own nests and caused a mini stampede.

His villainous laughter echoed through the temple.

"YES! THE EARTH SHALL BE MINE!"

A lone Pteranodon in the distance screeched and flew headfirst into a mountain.

Set pretended not to see that.