We are now onto the third entry of the Saga of Kris where we'll be heading straight into trying to save the world from the mythical doomsday event known as Ragnarök.
So just to be clear, I will admittedly involve some elements from the God of War games relevant to the Norse era, but it won't be a crossover. Well, not completely. So Kris and his friend, along with a couple others, will be tasked by the Norse pantheon into helping them save their worlds (both the Void and the real one) from total catastrophic destruction with Hel returning as the main antagonist. And just a fair warning, Mei and the girls will be involved in the story, but only in a subplot where they go to summer camp. And yes, I'm posting this one a little early because I kinda got a tight work schedule coming up due to big movies coming out such as The Flash and Elemental, so it's gonna be a busy weekend for me.
And another thing, this is going to be NOTHING like God of War: Ragnarök or even Thor: Ragnarök for that matter. This is going to be a little bit of my own thing. And with that, let's begin with the first chapter of the third story. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Turning Red and it's characters are the property of (c) Walt Disney Pictures/Pixar Animation Studios.
Elements are borrowed from God of War (2018) and Ragnarök, owned by (c) Santa Monica Studio/Sony Interactive Entertainment
C/W: Decapitation
Fire.
It burned.
Burned, glowed, glimmered and crackled.
The air all around Muspelheim was dark, black and filled with thick smogs of smoke that blocked out the burning, hot sun. Heat waves were more commonplace than anywhere else.
Lava boiled wrathfully and the plentiful volcanoes grumbled and rumbled like subterranean monsters ready to explode in a fiery hellish storm. Ash showered from the sky in grayish flurries. In these harsh, molten lands, almost nothing can survive in such scorching climates.
All that truly remains of any life within this realm of primordial fire is the gargantuan body of the realm's guardian lying prostrate on the ground near the cave leading into the Ginnungagap, the interconnection between it and its frozen neighboring realm, Niflheim. The giant body that was once a herald of destruction, a warmonger that worked endlessly and tirelessly to wreck his flaming vengeance on the Æsir of Asgard, enacting the end of the gods and mortals.
But there came a call.
Low, but audible that is beyond ordinary hearing.
Some who hear it can never resist it.
Proven efficacious when you can see the glassy eyes of the supposedly dead corpse of the fire giant glow in direct and obedient response.
Then that bright glow spread around the rest of the face and the body in spider web cracks until it appeared to dissolve and erode in on itself as if it was reducing to particles and reaching a size no smaller than its original mountainous expanse.
All was calm and cool in the realm of ancient ice. The wind howled, the breeze blew and the mists danced throughout the lands in thick fogs. Niflheim was not a hospitable or lively environment. There's the unbearable cold and the howls of the souls of the dead. You wouldn't last even a day in a place like this. However, there came a disruption in the air. It ruptured into the blistering cold, rising in temperature to a steaming level that not even the chilly environment could overpower.
And it heated up until you were for sure it was burning ablaze of hellfire like nobody would ever believe.
The He-Witch did.
And he felt it a mile away from inside his hut underneath the skeletons of his primeval cow mother. He felt it kilometers from his territory and even still at this very moment, it made him sweat. And not from the heat. He knew what this was, but why this was here in his realm, he didn't know. However, he had a lingering impression that made his soul tingle and writhe from within. He didn't want to believe it, but it didn't make much sense to him at all. The fact that not ever once did this boiling aura enter a frozen land until now was enough to make his skin crawl. However, he was quick to fight the sinking feeling in his stomach about it and toughen up because he was all too familiar with this more than anyone in the Nine Realms.
Once outside armed with his trusty staff in the snow-covered wasteland that was his homeland, he stood idly and waited. And watched. Watched as the fiery presence edge dangerously closer to where he stood in the snow with the most intimidating posture known (or perhaps unknown) to man. It was like a walking bonfire that melted and inflamed all things frozen in its wake.
And slowly but surely as the He-Witch kept his posture, it stood right before him with its bright, yellowish glow and his heart raced.
"Open the gates!" It ordered in a booming voice.
"As you wish, uncle." The He-Witch obeyed and did as he was told without question or hesitation, but timidly.
The dark and blazing presence followed his lead just a hair behind him, but the He-Witch did not let this waver him an inch. Never, dare I say again never, before as this known entity marched its way into the realm of ice and mist to demand passage through Hel's Gate and entry into the ghastly, despicable and daunting Helheim.
Not ever once.
Buried deep within the confined his very pneuma lies an unerring idea that something about this sudden situation was, if not anything, sketchy and could mean something terrible, but the He-Witch was in no position nor had the power to deny this figure's undertakings. Momentarily, the countless-year old mage brought the strange presence before the entrance into the afterlife that no living mortal human could ever have the satisfaction of standing before or even gaze upon, much less pass through without considering the fatal repercussions of the dangers that lurk beyond this point in expectant waiting for any mortal trespassers. With some eligible reluctance, but an ounce of mild acceptance, the ancient gatekeeper did his part as he's always done for billions of years, using his staff to open the ominous Gates of Hel and allowed them to slowly creak open, allowing the towering figure entry.
The dark territory of Éljúðnir was quiet and eerily chill as could be. Not a speck of life to be found and that was to be expected. Darker than a cave with no light source in existence. Nothing lighting up the lifeless lands, safe for the otherworldly green glow from the ectoplasmic waters of Gjöll that functioned like an unnatural night light.
But there was to be light.
And it glowed brightly as it sinisterly approached the bridge of the damned, Gjallarbrú, paying no heed to the bridge guardian who vanished from sight the minute she saw it approach. The fires and embers dancing on the figure's body provided enough light for it to see where it was headed in this lightless section of the underworld, the metallic scratch of the tip of a large sword dragged across the bridge, sending off a warning that even the dead couldn't ignore. The doors to the haunted hall slowly opened to reveal the Goddess of Death standing there patiently and seeing her visitor made her smile impishly. She was hoping when it was gonna show up.
Or rather, he.
Yes, he.
He stood before Hel about 9 ft. tall with a molten, charcoal black, lava-like skin, glowing eyes, a bald head with a large, singed and unkempt beard and hair draping over his back that curiously appeared to be stained with ash and embers and a symbol carved onto his forehead. He was barefoot and carrying a large sword in his hands that burned a fiery glow as if daring anyone to rest their bare hands upon it.
For Hel was expecting to be standing directly before the one, the only and he who shan't not to be addressed verbally by any mouth anywhere within the Nine Realms or shalt forever hold thy breath, the burning and scorching presence that is…
…Surtr (Nordic: ᛋᚢᚱᛏᛦ), also known as Surtur or Surt; the Eldjötunn, the firstborn fire Jötunn, the second Primordial being in existence to be born, the brother of the slain progenitor of all the Jötnar, Ymir, the ancestor, primogenitor and leader of the fire Jötnar and the Ruler and Guardian of Muspelheim who was foretold to play a vital role in ushering in the tragic, impending events leading up to the major eschatological event known and dreaded by all as Ragnarök (Old Norse: Ragnarøkkr), also known as the Twilight of the Gods and Götterdämmerung, the prophesied apocalyptic-level event that would be the extinction of the gods and the catastrophic destruction of all life and the Nine Realms themselves in which Surtr engulfed all of Midgard in flames.
"Well?" He demanded in a deep, gravelly baritone and grunting voice that many would fret hearing, but definitely not Hel. "You have my attention, witch. What is it you require of me?"
She cackled to herself, taking one more step forward to the molten giant standing menacingly before her.
"Surtr." She greeted him with a more aberrant form of civility. "So nice to finally meet you in person. Standing big and tall before me. My, what an impeccable force you-"
"My patience is dwindling." He interrupted with no interest in small talk or praise.
"Fate's been too unkind to us both." Hel elaborated. "Me, the ruler of the dead and you, a destroyer of worlds. How unfair is that? Well, I say times are about to change."
"How?"
"The gods think they can shut us up and adjudge us monsters. I've been cast down here, forced to rule over dead warriors without a sliver of humanity left, all alone and withered away like an unwatered plant, suffocating in the shadows and left to rot. But no more and I have had enough!" The scream of the Goddess of Death was deafening and could be heard for miles. She recomposed herself and continued, "Fortunately, after three years of meticulous groundwork, I've formulated the perfect scheme against those wretched gods above us. A repeat of the cycle of events that ended their world. A little this and a little that and engulf their worlds in eternal darkness and fire."
"Ragnarök." Surtr gasped.
"Yes. If it happened before, it can happen again. If I can arrange events like how they played before, then their grand demise will be imminent. And that's where you come in, Surtr. With my help, you will usher in the apocalypse and handle the rest just like you did before."
"You're mad." The fire giant bellowed with a snorty scoff.
"Small price to pay." Hel snarked.
"You speak utter nonsense. You will not only end the gods, but the rest of the realms and all of mankind. Our realms will perish as well."
"No worries, I'll have a contingency plan for that in the foreseeable future." Hel assured him, but this did not sway him in the least.
"All my lifetime I've spent in my realm slaving and toiling away in my forge, wasting my years for the day the Twilight of the Gods rears its ugly head. I cannot relive that horror once more. I can't and I won't." hissed Surtr as he dragged his sword turning away, about ready to take off in a huff.
"Going back to mourn for….Sinmara?" taunted the silver-tongued Hel.
That one single word was just enough to strike a nerve in the towering, flaming figure who snarled and growled at the reminder of the demise of his one true love. It ignited his flames and made him seethe with fury and his grip on the sword's hand tightened and the blade glowed a bright reddish-orange as lava melted from it before he sharply whipped right around with the most impressive reflexes and with one swipe of his flaming sword of infinite agony,...he sliced Hel's head right clean off her shoulders, which fell right to the ground.
However, this unsurprisingly did nothing against the Goddess of Death since the body still stood like all statuesque, unmoving and still as if nothing happened and the head….
…the head smiled wickedly as if she enjoyed being decapitated and dismembered like it's a normal thing for it, which, as a matter of fact, it was and grotesquely so.
"I never want to hear her name uttered from your FILTHY MOUTH!" Surtr, ruler of Muspelheim and first of the fire Jötnar, roared at her as his molten flesh burned and scorched to match the rage in his voice.
The head of Hel only giggled.
"Sinmara, Sinmara, Sinmara!" She taunted even further while her headless body marched over to her lost head and picked it up, holding it by her hair so that it was facing Surtr. "What if I told you that you could be with her again?'
"What say you?"
"I am the Goddess of Death after all." The body shrugged before reattaching the head. "If you work with me, I know a way for you to reunite with your love."
Considering this for a moment, the fire giant remembered when he had lost the love of his life thousands and thousands of years ago during the Æsir's rise to power after Odin slaughtered his brother and it made him boiled remembering it like it was yesterday. To that end, he growled in recognition.
"Speak."
"Kris Bengtsson." Hel began, crossing her arms.
"Who?" Surtr asked, furrowing his eyebrows.
"Young boy, 15, long chestnut auburn locks and a descendant of the mighty Thor." Hel explained. "Two years ago, I had him down here with me as the perfect company before he was ripped away from me."
"How does the boy fit into all this?" demanded the Muspelheim ruler.
"I know a ritual where his blood must be spilled in order for Sinmara to be reborn. A soul for a soul, if you will. If you wish to see your Sinmara again, the boy must die."
"You want me to murder a child?" This surprisingly struck the humongous fire king as rather odd, if not arbitrary. Yes, his apocalyptic rampage long ago led to the demise of billions, but having to kill a child just to see his wife again was a bit unexpected and not something he would even consider wanting to do.
"That's never stopped you back then, did it?" The Goddess of Death remarked derisively with a terse cackle. "Didn't think so."
"Very well. If it's the only to be with her again, then so be it." He finally relented, seeing as how much he really misses his long lost love.
"Hmm-hmm, I knew you'd see it my way." Hel made a noise of satisfaction.
"But when?" He spat out forcefully with a slight impatient tone of voice, tightening that grip on his sword handle like a vice.
"Patience, big boy." She told him sternly, holding a wagging finger in his face. "All will come in due time. There's so much of my plan to come along first before we go along with the ritual, so much stuff that needs to happen accordingly and it all starts…with her."
Reaching a crippled dead hand from her left side into her gown from the necklike, she eagerly fished something out that you wouldn't expect an ancient death deity like her to actually have on her.
It was a polaroid of a girl.
A girl no older than 16 with blonde hair in a ponytail with blue and purple butterfly clips, pale Caucasian skin and wearing a sleeveless blue dress.
"Who is she?" asked Surtr.
Stacy Frick, 17, slept peacefully in her bed like a baby, snug in her blankets and holding her red panda plushie comfortably to her like a teddy bear. Her bedroom was quite something you'd expect from a girl like her with a love for cute animals like an abundance of adorable stuffed animals, a collection of lineup fashion dolls, a vanity with a makeup kit and cosmetics for fashionable reasons and who can forget the 4*Town posters on the walls, most assuredly one of Aaron Z., her most beloved idol and 'soulmate'.
She snored softly and dreamt such pleasant dreams, blissfully unaware of the world around her.
However, lurking just outside of her house was something dark.
And close.
Over the sounds of crickets and birds breaching the cool night air, there came the haunting sound of reverberating neighing. Staring upon the two-story house with red-hot fury were a couple of horse entities obscured by eternal darkness with some on the ground and some on the roofs of a few neighboring houses glaring up at the window of which Stacy's bedroom was.
The mares sent by Hel to do her dirty work.
And then they trotted inauspiciously closer to the house. And the closer they got, the larger the shadow they casted over the girl asleep in the bedroom. Like ink seeping into and staining white sheet paper, the cuteness and comforting environment of her dreams turned sour, cold and downright disturbing. No longer was she surrounded by cute and cuddly animals like red pandas, but rather terrifying monsters, sinister-faced people of ill intent and wild, bloodthirsty and carnivorous feral animals hungry for a swallow of flesh amidst a blood red background. In response, she was no longer in a peaceful slumber.
By now, she was muttering nervously in her sleep, tossing and turning in her brain's response to the sudden nightmares she was experiencing that came completely out of nowhere. On the outside of her nightmares in the real world, the temperature in her room slowly started to drop. Not only that, but the air of the house dropped so increasingly low that it reached sub zero levels tantamount to polar climates like the indoors was stuck in the middle of the ice age.
Her parents, who were downstairs watching a late night movie together, instantly took notice of the sudden chilly temperature, especially when they were suddenly creating clouds of mist with their breaths. And they shivered and shuddered.
Stacy's brother, Josh, woke up as well when he, too, felt the frigid air, shuddering out of his slumber and suddenly noticed snowflakes floating around, much to his shock.
Meanwhile in Stacy's room, things were getting much worse. In fact, it was now completely snowing in her bedroom and the worse her heart-pounding nightmares got, the more the snow flurries became an indoor blizzard. The mares were closing in on her fast and obscured the night sky from sight in the window until literally nothing could be seen by pairs of red eyes. And then whoosh! They were inside of the room and darkness took over, enshrouding the bedroom.
Stacy's parents were now checking the thermostat, wondering if there was something wrong with it and that maybe that was causing the air in the house to drop to incredibly low, but then just as suddenly as it did, it rose back up to normal.
It wasn't chilly anymore. In fact, no more snowflakes could be seen falling upstairs.
Unfortunately, from inside Stacy's bedroom, something was amiss.
.
.
.
.
Stacy was gone!
As he marched and scurried across the woodsy area of the northern part of their territory back on Midgard, Bödvar was armed with Dane ax, stalking around the trees and the bushes and the treacherous inclines by his lonesome on a solo hunting trip, on the prowl for fresh meat. This he has done before without a hunting party as he was much too much of a formidable force on his own.
Listening in for any sounds for wild game and growling and hissing animalistically for good measure to pass himself off as an apex predator to anyone who dares cross his path, there was nothing. No wolves, no rabbits, nothing.
Nothing yet.
But finally he heard something.
The flapping of wings. And screeching off to his left.
Sure enough, it sat perched on a high branch in a tree nearby with an inspecting gaze. A hawk with a distant glance that watched his every move. Bödvar was surprised to see such a majestic creature. It didn't look like it was hunting for any food itself. It just stood there in the tree with its yellow eyes staring blankly into his soul, wings folded behind its back. However, he also noticed that it wasn't alone.
Sitting next to it on the branch was a large eagle with cleaner feathers and a sterner look in its eye than the hawk. Now the berserker warrior's mind began to race, seeing an eagle and a hawk together and the only logical conclusion he could come to right now was that he was standing before the Eagles of Asgard, only one of them was an eagle. The two birds of prey were silent for a still moment before something finally happened.
The hawk named Veðrfölnir (often anglicized as Vedrfolnir, Vedurfolnir or Vetrfolnir) and the eagle of no known name in particular both gave each other a nod and aimed their beaks skyward to his right and let out a screech into the air like they were calling out to someone.
But who, though?
Who could they even be calling?
Looking up towards the brightness in the sky, Bödvar looked to see what it was. Nothing yet until he could just barely make out a figure up above so far away that he could barely discern the outline of its features due to the bright light. However, as it came closer, he could see a pair of wings. Another bird of prey perhaps?
Apparently not, since the closer it got, the more humanoid it looked and it appeared to be brandishing a deadly weapon in its hands.
And it was flying straight towards him.
But he only sighed in resignation. It's just gotta be one of those days.
Bödvar held his ax tightly and readily in his hand as the Shield Maiden valkyrie flew nearer and nearer and she was zeroing in on his location at bullet-like speed, she let out a loud battle cry into the air, raising her halberd - the höggspjót - high in the air ready for a deadly blow.
However, the berserker merely stepped aside and caused the assaulting valkyrie to strike the ground inside, but the impact she made on the ground knocked him back. The winged warrior woman has a glowing mane of dark reddish hair of a faded hue with a braid on the one side of her face and a scar on her cheek and she did not relent in her attack. Jahr swung her halberd at Bödvar with unrelenting ferocity, forcing the berserker to fight back with his ax, both of them swinging and swiftly swiping at each other, both dodging and ducking and both just as formidable, if not more so than the other.
Then the valkyrie spun around in a circle, swinging her open wings about in the process, making like a buzz saw move of sorts by using the sharp tips of her feathers like a series of knifes, which succeeded in cutting into the berserker's flesh, drawing blood, but also in angering Bödvar.
He ignored the stinging pain and roared as he charged at the valkyrie with his ax. He socked her in the face and delivered more swipes of his razor-edged blade without holding anything back. He punched and punched at her and didn't stop until she was shoved straight to the ground, temporarily stunned.
Bödvar ceased for a millisecond to catch his breath. But then the down valkyrie slapped at his feet with her wing, knocking him to the ground with the element of surprise.
Now that she has him right where she needs him, she stood back up and aimed the end of her halberd at him threateningly, but with a more acquiescent stance. From their spot on the branch, Veðrfölnir and his eagle companion eyed the scene with a growing curiosity in their eyes.
"You're needed, berserker!" demanded Brunhild (Old Norse: Brynhildr), also known as Brunhilda or Brynhild with powerful authority.
"Why attack me head-on, valkyrie?" Bödvar thundered, retrieving his ax and holding high up in preparation for another attack.
"Because you would've done the same." She countered.
And the berserker before knew in hindsight that she wasn't completely wrong.
"And why have you come for me? Has my time finally come?"
"Indeed not. We both know your time on this earth is everlasting." Brunhild explained. "I'm here simply because your presence is required in Asgard. The All-Father decrees it so."
Bödvar lowered his weapon as well as his guard, sensing no falsehood in her voice to be wary of.
"And what does he want with me?" He asked.
"Ragnarök is coming." Brunhild answered forebodingly.
The face of the berserker blanched white. These chilling words brought a fear that clutched his very being and in a way that, for once, actually ratted his bones.
The end of the world was soon upon them all.
So we've been introduced to Surtr, known by legend as the catalyst for ushering the end of the gods and the realms as a whole. He'll be a secondary antagonist for our story. However, he is shown to have a sense of humility and modesty, despite having an aggressive and trigger-happy disposition, like he possesses some deep regret for how he's wasted his entire life planning out the apocalypse that ended everything years ago. But it's his passionate desire to be with his love, Sinmara, once again that makes him easy for Hel to manipulate.
Oh no! Stacy has been kidnapped and not only that, but she appears to have powers of her own. But what could this all mean? Well, stay tuned to find out in future chapters.
Next Chapter: Summer break is near and everyone's ready for summer fun. Meanwhile, Ming is feeling insecure about things between her and Kris.
Next Update: June 20, 2023