Muspelheim pt.1

The emerald ship cut through space, gliding silently through the void. Max sat cross‑legged near the stern of the craft, eyes fixed on the box he had fashioned, its surface flickering slightly.

Inside lay the severed head of Mimir.

Even lifeless, it radiated power. A golden aura shimmered faintly around it, the runes on his face occasionally sparking, dim glows pulsing across the closed eyes and silvery beard.

Max frowned not in disgust, but in fascination.

Meanwhile, at the prow of the ship, Odin stood proudly, a wide grin plastered across his face. He held Gungnir in one hand and Mjolnir in the other, arms stretched out.

"Watch this!" Odin shouted, twirling the spear over his head and bringing Mjolnir down in a dramatic arc, conjuring a miniature bolt of lightning that crackled harmlessly in the vacuum of space. Then he tossed Mjolnir upward, spinning it before perfectly catching the hammer again mid‑arc as he swept Gungnir aside.

Max rolled his eyes at Odin's antics and turned his attention back to the head.

"Jade," Max said aloud, "can you scan Mimir's head?"

"Affirmative," Jade replied, the ring glowing as she began the scan.

A few moments passed in silence, then her voice returned brighter than usual.

"Mimir's cranial structure contains an integrated organic memory lattice, effectively a bio‑computer capable of storing insurmountable quantities of information. He has preserved vast records… it is…" She paused, and if an AI could sound breathless, she did. "…glorious."

Max raised an eyebrow. "Glorious, huh… So can you extract all of it?"

"Yes," Jade replied, then added a caveat. "If you remain in continuous contact with the head for 234 Earth‑standard days, I estimate a 97.6 percent success rate in full data extraction. Categorization and integration will require an additional period of indeterminate length."

Max blinked. "Two hundred thirty‑four days?"

"Correct."

"Why the hell so long?"

"Because this is not simple data. The neural lattice is unique. Knowledge is encoded in thought‑logic matrices that must be carefully unraveled and parsed. The amount of information is staggering. There are constructs within constructs—entire memories encoded like ecosystems. Rushing it would risk corruption."

Max sighed, leaning back against the railing of the ship. "Great. Just great."

He glanced over at Odin, who was now practicing spinning both weapons at once, lightning trailing from one hand and golden arcs from the other.

"Okay, Odin," Max called. "What now?"

Odin stopped, both weapons humming in his hands, and looked back over his shoulder.

"Grænlaðr," he said, his voice calm but resolute, "there is no other way. We return to the path I was on before you arrived… the old gateways, the hidden roads between realms. If we're fortunate, one will carry us to Muspelheim."

Max shook his head and sighed, his gaze flicking between the box that held Mimir's severed head and the Asgardian prince still twirling Gungnir like a child with a new toy.

Then he looked Odin squarely in the eyes. "Are you going to get in trouble for this?"

Odin blinked, caught off guard. "Trouble?" he repeated, forcing a laugh. "Why would I? Mimir was an enemy of Asgard. He defied my father, stole Gungnir, and went into hiding like a coward. I did what my father could not—he would reward me."

But Max heard the slight break in his voice; the usual confidence was missing.

Max folded his arms. "If your father really wanted to find him, why did he stop? Bor knew where Mimir was, just as you did. Why didn't he come here and take the spear himself?" He paused. "There had to be a reason, Odin. Why didn't he do it?"

Odin's bravado faltered. His grip on Gungnir slackened. "I… I do not know," he admitted quietly, brow furrowing.

Max's eyes narrowed in thought. Then something clicked. His head snapped up. "The portals."

Odin blinked. "What?"

"The portals, Odin," Max said, turning toward the prow of the ship. "The ones the fire giants used to invade Vanaheim…the ones created with the Space Stone. They have a specific energy signature. Maybe we can track it back to the source."

Odin's eyes lit with cautious hope. "Is that possible?"

Max looked down at his ring. "Jade," he said, "do you have a record of the portals the fire giants used in Vanaheim?"

"Yes," Jade answered instantly. "The portals left behind residual quantum‑lattice distortions that can be triangulated based on collapse decay."

Max nodded. "Can you track those distortions..umm..locate where the portals were opened from?"

"Beginning calculation."

Max and Odin waited in silence until Jade spoke again.

"Complete," she announced. "I have located the origin point of the portals. Route plotted."

Odin's eyes lit up, and he let out a triumphant laugh. "Aha! Your oracle is truly a wonder, Grænlaðr!"

Max gave a faint smile, then narrowed his eyes. "All right—let's move."

He stepped to the ship's edge, raised his hand, and poured will into the construct. Green light flared across the sails as the ship accelerated. His irises shimmered emerald as he tuned the trajectory to the coordinates Jade had provided.

Odin threw his arms wide as the stars blurred. "Surtur!" he shouted into the cosmos, lightning crackling from Mjolnir's head. "We are coming for you!"

======

Max willed the ship to a halt, the emerald construct slowing smoothly as the planet loomed into view before them.

Muspelheim.

Even from orbit, it was terrifying. The world churned with fire…its surface cracked and broken, rivers of molten rock snaking across jagged continents like glowing veins. Great plumes of flame erupted miles into the sky, scorching the very firmament. The planet pulsed like a living furnace, wrapped in an eternal inferno.

Max stared, jaw tight.

Odin stepped forward beside him, eyes alight with a fire of his own. Raising Mjolnir in one hand and Gungnir in the other, he bellowed into the void, "We have arrived! Surtur, your time has come!" Lightning crackled from the hammer; golden arcs danced along the spear.

Max lifted his ring and concentrated, scanning the surface. Emerald lines and runes spread before his eyes, triangulating the energy signature that matched the Space Stone.

"There," Max said, pointing. "See that?"

Even from orbit it was visible…a towering, jagged mountain, black as obsidian and taller than anything Max had ever seen. Fire poured from its peaks like a burning crown.

"That's where he is the source of the Space Stone's energy."

Odin squinted, then nodded grimly. "Expect heavy resistance, Grænlaðr fire giants, beasts of molten stone, cursed ones… it will be a battle unlike any before."

Max exhaled. "So we're just going to drop in? No plan? No…"

"I do have a plan," Odin interrupted, grinning wide.

Max raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"

Odin leapt from the ship, spinning Mjolnir as lightning coiled around him. "Attack!" he shouted. "Surtur! Odin Borson, Prince of Asgard, comes for your head!" And just like that, he was gone diving toward the burning world below, a streak of gold and thunder.

Max groaned. "Of course."

He reached into the construct box and secured Mimir's head to a belt he formed. Then he closed his eyes and inhaled; the ring pulsed.

With a thought, armor began to form around his body, green light hardening into interlocking plates that wrapped his limbs, chest, and shoulders. A solid helmet encased his head with a sharp, angular visor. The design was a familiar one, the Spartan armor from Halo but forged from the emerald power of will.

"Construct integrity stable," Jade reported. "Your constructs are becoming more durable and more refined."

Max took one last look at the planet below, drew a steady breath then jumped.

The emerald ship dissolved behind him as he plunged into the inferno, heat licking at his will‑forged armor. Curtains of flame rippled across the sky, and thick clouds of ash glowed a sullen orange on the horizon.

He hit Muspelheim's atmosphere like a comet, an emerald trail blazing in his wake. Air became fire in the planet's searing heat. Far below, a vast army of fire giants waited.

Not far off, Odin descended like a meteor, cape flaring, Mjolnir and Gungnir held high.

Then—impact.

Odin struck first. Mjolnir slammed into the ground with a thunderous crash, lightning‑charged shockwaves hurling fire giants like rag dolls and gouging a massive crater in the scorched earth.

Max didn't hesitate. Mid‑descent, ports opened in the shoulders, forearms, and thighs of his armor.

"Let's light it up," he growled.

Hundreds of emerald missiles streaked outward, tearing through the sky and exploding among the fire‑giant ranks. The ground shook under the barrage; molten creatures were ripped apart by sheer willpower. A storm of destruction raged.

Max landed beside Odin in a swirl of smoke and dust, green armor gleaming. The cracked earth groaned beneath his boots as he stood back‑to‑back with the prince of Asgard.

"Alright, fire freaks," Max shouted, constructs at the ready. "Come and get us!"

Inside his mind, new shapes formed blades, barriers, artillery, traps, drones each waiting to be willed into existence. He braced for the charge.

None came.

Instead, the fire giants hesitated then broke. Weapons clattered to the ground as they fled toward the burning mountains, bellowing in guttural panic.

Max blinked. "Wait… what?"

Odin spun, baffled. "Where are you going? We're here! Don't run cowards!"

Max raised an eyebrow behind his visor. "Maybe our combined power was so terrifying it shattered their spirit."

Odin paused, then threw back his head and laughed. "Aha! You are right, Grænlaðr! Tremble before us, fire‑giant scum!"

Max allowed himself a small smile and pointed toward the looming structure ahead: a towering citadel of flame carved from the mountain's blackened rock.

"Let's see what's waiting for us in there."

====

Max and Odin flew toward the monstrous structure. Calling it a castle felt like an insult; it was colossal, carved from the heart of the mountain itself and shaped by fire. Towers of blackened stone spewed flame into the sky, and jagged spires reached toward the heavens.

Odin didn't hesitate as they neared.

With a roar, he raised Mjolnir and slammed it into the front wall, shattering volcanic rock like brittle glass. The blast echoed across the mountains as rubble exploded outward. Crackling with lightning, he stepped through the smoking hole.

Max followed close behind, green glow pulsing across his armored form.

"There must be more inside," Odin muttered, voice low. "Prepare for battle, my friend."

They advanced side by side through vast corridors lit by rivers of lava running through channels in the stone floor. Runes pulsed along the walls in deep crimson, casting eerie shadows.

But there were no guards.

No fire giants.

No beasts.

Only silence.

Max's ring buzzed faintly, scanning for threats. "I feel like we're walking into a trap, Odin."

Odin narrowed his eyes. "Yes. I think so as well."

Still, they moved forward cautious, weapons ready.

The path twisted upward into a wide, spiraling staircase, leading to a grand corridor of black stone and flame‑lit arches. At its end stood a massive door at least fifty feet tall carved with ancient symbols glowing faintly with heat.

Odin didn't wait.

He crossed Gungnir and Mjolnir, then slammed them into the door with thunderous force. The metal creaked and snapped off its hinges, crashing inward like a collapsing mountain.

And then… they saw him.

Surtur.

He lounged upon a towering throne of obsidian and flame, his immense form leaning slightly, like a king grown tired of waiting. Armor forged from molten metal glowed within like smoldering coals. His face was a mask of living embers, eyes blazing like suns, and a beard of pure fire flowed down his chest.

Atop his horned brow sat a blackened crown—its center pulsing with a bright, unmistakable blue light.

Max's heart leapt.

The Space Stone.

Odin raised his weapons, stepping forward slowly, eyes locked on the fire god.

Max said nothing. He simply willed two weapons into existence, twin rifles mounted over each shoulder, aimed and tracking.

They advanced in unison, slow and wary, each step echoing through the silent throne room. The only sound was the low, deep rumble of Surtur's breathing.

"The Space Stone," Max muttered, eyes fixed on the glowing blue gem set in the crown atop Surtur's fiery head. "Do you see it?"

"I see it," Odin replied grimly, advancing with Mjolnir and Gungnir humming in his hands.

From his throne of flame, Surtur let out a low, rumbling laugh. "Welcome, Prince of Asgard. I have been expecting you."

Odin did not hesitate. "Surtur, I Odin Borson have come to end your schemes. You will not bring forth Ragnarök."

Surtur's laugh swelled, echoing through the molten chamber. "Ragnarök is inevitable, son of Bor, and you know it." His ember‑bright eyes shifted to Max. "But this… this is interesting. You arrive with an elder."

Max narrowed his eyes. "What?"

Intrigue flickered in the flames of Surtur's beard. "Tell me, elder…what bargain did the Prince of Asgard strike with you?"

Odin shot Max a puzzled look. "What is he talking about?"

"I have no idea," Max answered, shaking his head.

Surtur's amusement cooled into irritation. "Do not mock me. I know what you are but it matters little. I have grown far stronger than you, and stronger than your so‑called brothers, since last we met."

Max was simply growing more confused by Surtur's words 'Brothers...' What was he on about?

Surtur rose from his throne. Heat surged violently, flames coiling at his feet. Standing, he eclipsed even the colossal doorway behind them. Fire gathered in his right hand, solidifying into a massive blade; the air screamed around it.

Odin's face paled. "The Twilight Sword," he whispered.

"Indeed, Borson," Surtur said, grinning. "The very blade your ancestor Tiwaz stole from me now reclaimed."

He raised it high, and the Space Stone pulsed bright, electric blue.

Space folded.

Odin and Max were yanked forward through a sudden rift. Before they could react, Surtur caught them in molten fists and slammed them into the floor. The stone cracked beneath the impact.

Max groaned, pain lancing through his spine, his armor sizzling where it touched the scorching surface.

Surtur loomed above, laughing. "I want a proper fight," he rumbled. "And you two will help me test my limits."

Max, flat on his back, grimaced as he tried to breathe. "Yeah," he croaked, "this is gonna suck."

.

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There will be references to Max being older than he appears in some future chapters, including this one… take that as you will.