The grand throne room of the Asgardian palace was eerily silent. The vast hall, usually filled with the murmurs of gods and warriors, now seemed oppressively empty. Shin sat in the center, his crimson eyes downcast, his body still and tense. Across from him, Odin sat upon his throne, his one piercing eye fixed on Shin with the weight of unspoken judgment. On his shoulders, Huginn and Muninn perched silently, their black feathers gleaming faintly in the dim light.

Shin couldn't bring himself to look up. The anger that had consumed him, that had blinded him to the consequences of his actions, was long gone. What remained was the cold, crushing realization of what he had done—the devastation he had caused.

Odin's voice finally broke the silence, his tone low and heavy, carrying the weight of the lives lost. "124,317," he said simply.

Shin's breath hitched, but he didn't look up.

"That is the death toll," Odin continued, his gaze unwavering. "124,317 innocent citizens of Jotunheim. Men, women, and children. All killed in the crossfire of your rage-fueled battle."

Shin's fists clenched tightly, his crimson eyes closing as the number echoed in his mind. He had known it would be bad, but hearing the number spoken aloud was like a hammer to his chest.

Odin leaned forward slightly, his voice sharp and demanding. "What do you have to say for yourself, Shin Hyoudou?"

Shin opened his mouth, but no words came. His throat tightened, and the crushing weight of guilt rendered him silent. He wanted to say something—anything—to justify what had happened, but there was nothing.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and trembling. "I… I didn't mean for this to happen," he said, his words barely audible.

Odin's gaze didn't waver, his expression unmoved. "Intent matters little to the dead," he said coldly. "It will not bring them back."

Shin flinched, the truth in Odin's words cutting deep. He took a shuddering breath, his hands trembling as they rested on his knees. "I lost control," he admitted, his voice raw. "I let my anger consume me, and… I failed. I failed to protect them. I failed everyone."

Odin leaned back in his throne, his single eye narrowing slightly. "You allowed your hatred to dictate your actions," he said. "And now, 124,317 lives have paid the price for your failure. Do you understand the gravity of what you have done?"

Shin nodded slowly, his crimson eyes still fixed on the ground. "I understand," he said quietly. "And I'll do whatever it takes to make it right. Whatever punishment you see fit… I'll accept it."

Odin's expression remained stern as he studied Shin, the weight of his judgment hanging heavily in the air. The ravens on his shoulders cawed softly, their cries echoing in the vast hall as Odin spoke again.

Odin's one eye bore into Shin, his voice cold and unyielding as he spoke again. "You will receive two punishments, Shin Hyoudou."

Shin raised his head slightly, his crimson eyes meeting Odin's, though they still carried the weight of his guilt.

"The first," Odin continued, his tone sharp and deliberate, "will be the Trial of Eternal Memory."

Shin's brows furrowed faintly, the unfamiliar term hanging ominously in the air.

"It is an ancient ritual," Odin explained, his voice echoing through the empty throne room. "One I have not invoked in eons. But for your crime, I feel it is befitting."

Shin's fists clenched slightly on his knees, the words pressing down on him like a weight. "What… what does it entail?" he asked hesitantly, his voice low.

Odin's gaze remained steady, his expression grim. "I will place you in a state where you will relive the crucial moments, as well as the final moment of all those you have killed. All 124,317 lives. You will feel their fear, their pain, their sorrow."

Shin's breath caught in his throat, his crimson eyes widening slightly as the full meaning of Odin's words sank in.

"Their faces will haunt you for the rest of your life," Odin said, his voice hard and unrelenting. "As they should."

Shin's chest tightened, the thought of experiencing that level of suffering—the pain and terror of every innocent life lost in Jotunheim—sinking into him like daggers. He wanted to argue, to plead, but the words wouldn't come. Deep down, he knew he deserved it.

"I understand," Shin said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll face it."

Odin nodded, his gaze never leaving Shin's. "You must. This punishment is not only a reckoning—it is a reminder. The consequences of your actions will remain with you, as they should, until the end of your days."

The ravens on Odin's shoulders cawed softly, their cries cutting through the suffocating silence as Shin lowered his head again, bracing himself for the weight of the trial to come.

Odin's single eye bore into Shin with the weight of a god's judgment. After a long, tense silence, he spoke again, his tone colder and heavier than before.

"Then for the second punishment," Odin said, his voice reverberating through the vast throne room, "that one begins now."

Shin lifted his head slightly, confusion flickering in his crimson eyes as he watched Odin stand. The All-Father extended his arm, his ancient hand cutting through the air. The space in front of him seemed to crack and splinter, glowing fissures forming in the fabric of reality itself. From within those fissures, Odin reached in and pulled forth a chain.

The chain glowed faintly with an otherworldly light, its links appearing ancient and yet untouched by time. It pulsed with raw power, a weight that could be felt even from a distance. Odin held it aloft, and the air in the throne room grew heavier.

"This," Odin said, his voice grave, "is The Chain of Responsibility. An ancient relic from a time long past."

Shin's gaze fixed on the chain, his breath caught in his throat as the oppressive energy emanating from it filled the room.

"Once used upon you," Odin continued, "it will bind you with a curse. A curse you will carry until I myself deem you worthy of having it removed."

Shin's eyes narrowed, his voice low as he asked, "What… what is the curse?"

Odin's gaze didn't waver as he spoke, his voice steady and absolute. "The curse will activate every time you take a life. It will make you feel the collective pain of every single person you have ever killed, all at once."

Shin's blood ran cold, his crimson eyes widening as the weight of Odin's words settled over him.

"This shall serve as a constant reminder," Odin said, his tone sharp and deliberate, "of the responsibility that comes with your great powers. Every life you take will echo within you, ensuring that you never forget the consequences of your actions."

Shin's fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening as he processed the gravity of the punishment. The idea of carrying that kind of burden—of feeling the pain of 124,317 souls each time he took another life—was nearly incomprehensible. But he didn't argue. He didn't resist.

"I understand," Shin said finally, his voice low but steady.

Odin stepped forward, the chain in his hands glowing brighter as he moved closer to Shin. "This is not just punishment," Odin said, his voice heavy with meaning. "It is a lesson. A lesson you will carry with you for the rest of your days."

The ravens on Odin's shoulders cawed sharply as he raised the chain, its light growing brighter as it began to wrap itself around Shin. Each link glowed with power as it settled into place, its energy seeping into Shin's body like molten fire.

Shin gritted his teeth, his crimson eyes shutting tightly as the chain bound itself to him, its power latching onto his very essence. The process was agonizing, the weight of the curse pressing down on him like a mountain.

When the chain disappeared, its power fully integrated into Shin, Odin stepped back, his voice calm but firm. "The Chain of Responsibility has been placed upon you," he said. "May it remind you of the burden you carry and guide you to use your power with wisdom and restraint."

Shin sat in silence, his body trembling slightly from the weight of the curse, but he didn't look away from Odin. "I won't forget," he said, his voice quiet but resolute. "I'll carry it. And I'll make it right."

Odin nodded, his gaze softening slightly but still filled with authority. "See that you do," he said.

Odin descended from his throne with deliberate steps, the weight of his presence pressing down on the vast throne room. His single, piercing eye fixed on Shin, who sat motionless, his head bowed. The Chain of Responsibility already bound him, its presence a constant reminder of his sins.

Odin stopped directly before Shin, his towering frame casting a shadow over him. His voice was low, cold, and unrelenting. "The Chain of Responsibility will remind you never to commit such atrocities again, to think before you act, to understand the weight of a single life. But this…" He leaned closer, his tone sharpening. "The Trial of Eternal Memories—this is your real punishment. This is your atonement."

Shin's fists clenched at his sides, his crimson eyes narrowing as he looked up at Odin, his breath hitching.

Odin's gaze bore into him, his words striking like hammer blows. "You will watch your victims' lives," he said. "You will feel their happiness, their love, their hopes, their dreams. Then, you will watch as, in the blink of an eye, all of it is torn away—because of you."

Shin's chest tightened, his breathing uneven as he imagined the unbearable weight of what was to come.

Odin continued, his voice unyielding. "What will feel like an eternity to you will be but a few days in reality. But within that eternity, you will experience the lives of 124,317 souls—every moment, every thought, every feeling—before you relive their deaths, over and over again."

The ravens on Odin's shoulders cawed loudly, their cries cutting through the suffocating silence of the hall.

"And it begins…" Odin raised his hand, his fingers glowing with an ethereal light as he stepped closer to Shin. "Now!"

With a swift motion, Odin pressed his fingers to Shin's forehead. The moment his touch connected, Shin's eyes glossed over, a faint shimmer of light spreading across them. His body tensed, his breath catching as he was pulled into a void of overwhelming sensation.

The throne room around him disappeared, swallowed by a swirling abyss of light and shadow. Shin's consciousness was consumed, his mind thrust into the endless expanse of memories. The laughter of children, the warmth of family gatherings, the quiet joy of simple moments—all of it flooded his senses.

For each soul, he lived their lives as if they were his own, their happiness and love piercing him like daggers. And then, just as he began to feel the fullness of their lives, it happened. The instant their lives ended—screams, terror, and pain ripped through him, their final moments replaying in agonizing detail.

One life after another. Over and over.

Shin's body remained still in the throne room, his eyes blank, his jaw clenched tightly as a faint tremor ran through him.

Odin stepped back, his gaze somber but resolute as he watched Shin's punishment unfold. "Your atonement has begun," he said quietly.

The room was silent except for the faint rustle of Odin's cloak as he turned, his ravens cawing once more as they took flight, circling above the empty hall.

(Scene Break)

Asia and Freya sat in the living room of their home, the once lively and warm space now feeling hollow and empty. The air was heavy with unease, the silence between them broken only by the faint crackle of the fireplace. Asia sat on the couch, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her emerald eyes staring at the floor as if searching for answers. Freya stood by the window, her arms crossed, her usually serene face shadowed with worry.

Asia finally broke the silence, her voice trembling. "What… what do you think Odin will do to Shin?"

Freya didn't respond immediately. Her gaze remained fixed on the window, her blue eyes distant as she struggled to find the right words. Finally, she sighed softly, her shoulders slumping as she turned to face Asia.

"I don't know," Freya admitted, her voice quieter than usual. "Odin has many forms of punishment. He could banish Shin from Asgard, curse him, seal his powers… any number of things."

Asia's hands tightened around each other, her knuckles white. "Banish him?" she whispered, her voice filled with fear. "Seal his powers? But… but that's too much!"

Freya shook her head gently, a faint sadness in her expression as she moved to sit beside Asia. "Above all, though," she said, her voice taking on a grim note, "it is Odin's curses that are the worst. They are powerful and inescapable, meant to remind those who bear them of their sins every moment of their lives."

Asia's breath hitched, her emerald eyes filling with tears. "Freya… what do you think he'll do?"

Freya looked down, her hands resting on her knees as she spoke softly. "All I can tell you," she said, "is that whatever Shin must endure, it will be befitting of his crimes. Odin is a fair ruler, but he is also unrelenting when it comes to justice."

Kuroka strolled into the room, her movements languid and graceful, her black silk nightie clinging to her form. The fabric, completely sheer, left little to the imagination, revealing her toned figure and smooth skin beneath. Her two tails flicked lazily behind her, a picture of relaxed confidence as she stretched wide, letting out a long yawn.

"Mmm, good nap," she murmured, her golden eyes half-lidded as she blinked at Asia and Freya. Her dark hair tumbled over her shoulders in soft waves, adding to her effortlessly seductive presence.

Her gaze swept the room, a faint pout forming on her lips as she didn't see who she was looking for. "So… is Shin back yet?" she asked, her voice carrying her usual playful lilt as she ran a hand through her hair.

Asia, who had been wiping at her tear-streaked face, turned to Kuroka, her cheeks flushing crimson as her eyes darted to the floor. "No," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Freya raised an eyebrow at Kuroka, her expression a mixture of exasperation and amusement as she crossed her arms. "Kuroka," she said, her tone dry, "must you really wander around the house like that?"

Kuroka smirked, her golden eyes gleaming with mischief as her tails swished behind her. "What? It's comfortable, nya," she replied, twirling a strand of her dark hair around her finger. "Besides, Shin doesn't seem to mind."

Freya sighed, shaking her head. "He's not even here."

Kuroka's smirk faltered slightly, a flicker of curiosity crossing her face. "Still with Odin, huh?" she asked, her tone more subdued now.

Freya nodded, her gaze softening. "Yes. He's… dealing with the consequences of what happened in Jotunheim."

Kuroka's playful demeanor faded further, her expression growing thoughtful. "Figures," she said quietly, her ears twitching. "Shin never does anything halfway, does he?"

Asia glanced up at Kuroka, her voice trembling. "He'll come back, right?"

Kuroka smiled faintly, her usual teasing tone replaced with quiet reassurance. "Of course, nya," she said, sitting down on the arm of a chair and flicking one of her tails toward Asia.

Kuroka leaned back lazily on the arm of the chair, her golden eyes glinting with amusement as she watched Asia's anxious expression. She crossed her legs, one of her tails flicking idly behind her. "I don't get what the big deal is, nya," she said with a shrug, her voice carrying a casual nonchalance.

Asia's head shot up, her emerald eyes wide and tear-filled as she stared at Kuroka in disbelief. "What do you mean, you don't get it?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Kuroka yawned, stretching her arms above her head before gesturing with her hands as if to downplay the situation. "Shin's a god, nya," she said simply. "Gods go on rampages all the time. Have you met Zeus?" She rolled her eyes dramatically. "That guy's killed tens of millions—millions, Asia—just because some poor woman in his society wouldn't sleep with him."

Freya's eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms, her tone sharpening. "Kuroka, that's hardly the point."

But Kuroka pressed on, unfazed. "Big whoop, Shin killed a hundred thousand people," she continued, flicking her tail. "In the grand scheme of the gods? That's some pretty amateur numbers. He's practically a rookie by divine standards."

Asia's face turned pale, her shock giving way to anger as she stood abruptly, her fists clenched at her sides. "How can you say that?!" she shouted, her voice breaking with emotion. "Those weren't just numbers—they were people! Innocent people!"

Kuroka blinked at Asia's outburst, tilting her head slightly as if the thought hadn't fully occurred to her. "I'm just saying," she replied, her tone still casual, "compared to the kinds of stuff gods like Zeus or Poseidon have pulled, what Shin did isn't exactly unheard of. They don't even think about the mortals they trample on. At least Shin feels bad about it."

Freya stepped in, placing a calming hand on Asia's shoulder as she shot Kuroka a pointed look. "Kuroka," Freya said firmly, "this isn't the time for your flippant attitude. What happened in Jotunheim isn't just about numbers or comparisons—it's about the consequences of Shin's actions, and the responsibility he has to bear for them."

Kuroka sighed, waving a hand dismissively. "Fine, fine, nya," she said, though her smirk remained. "I just think you're all being a bit dramatic. Shin's tougher than you give him credit for. He'll handle it."

Freya's expression darkened, her usual calm demeanor giving way to barely restrained anger as she stood, her hands clenched into fists. "We are not the Greek Pantheon," she snapped, her blue eyes blazing as she glared at Kuroka. "We do not just kill mercilessly for no reason. Those were our people—the citizens we have sworn to protect!"

Kuroka raised an eyebrow, her smirk fading slightly as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Her golden eyes glinted with a mix of challenge and amusement as her tails flicked lazily behind her.

"Not just the Greek Pantheon, nya," she said, her tone sharp and cutting. "Need I remind you of God? You know, Noah's Ark? Killed billions of humans because He was annoyed with how they were living."

Freya's jaw tightened, but Kuroka pressed on, her voice gaining momentum.

"Or how about Shiva?" Kuroka continued, her golden eyes narrowing. "Remember that time he decided the world needed a little population control? Swarms of locusts, plagues wiping out entire civilizations—hundreds of millions dead, easy. Smallpox? Yeah, let's just chalk that up to divine intervention gone wild."

Asia flinched at the mention of such massive loss of life, her hands tightening into fists as she sat in silence, her tear-filled gaze darting between the two women.

Kuroka leaned back again, her smirk returning as she tilted her head playfully. "And don't even get me started on Anubis, nya. That guy's body count is through the roof. Pretty sure he thought mass death was just a fun pastime."

Freya's lips pressed into a thin line, her blue eyes flashing with fury. "Kuroka," she said, her voice dangerously low, "those are not the standards we hold ourselves to. You cannot justify what happened by comparing it to the atrocities of others."

Kuroka shrugged, her smirk unshaken. "I'm just saying," she said, her tone casual but tinged with defiance. "Shin's not the first god to cause destruction, and he won't be the last. At least he's trying to make up for it. That's more than most gods ever do."

Freya took a deep breath, clearly struggling to keep her composure as she stepped closer to Kuroka. "This isn't about comparisons," she said firmly. "It's about taking responsibility. Shin understands that, and it's why he's facing punishment from Odin right now. You could learn a thing or two from him."

Kuroka's smirk faltered for a moment before she rolled her eyes and leaned back with a sigh. "Fine, fine, nya," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "I get it. You're all taking this super seriously. I'll back off."

Freya turned back to Asia, her anger softening as she knelt beside her again. "Don't listen to her," she said gently. "Shin isn't like those other gods. He's better than that."

Kuroka shrugged nonchalantly, standing up with her usual feline grace. She stretched again, her arms reaching high above her head as her black silk nightie shifted, her tails flicking lazily behind her.

"Yeah, yeah," she said with a smirk, her golden eyes glinting mischievously. "I get it. You're all so serious, nya." She let out a dramatic yawn, covering her mouth with one hand. "I think I need another nap. Wake me up when Shin gets home."

She began to saunter toward the door, her tone turning sultry as she added, "I'm sure he's going through a stressful time, so when he gets back, I'm going to wrap my lips around his me—"

Before she could finish, a pillow flew across the room and smacked her squarely in the face.

"Go to bed, you stupid horny cat!" Freya shouted, her face flushed with a mix of exasperation and embarrassment.

Kuroka caught the pillow as it fell, her smirk growing wider as she tucked it under her arm. "Alright, alright, I'm going, nya," she said, her laughter soft and melodic as she sauntered away. "No need to get jealous, Freya."

Freya groaned, rubbing her temples as she muttered under her breath. Asia, meanwhile, sat wide-eyed on the couch, her cheeks bright red as she struggled to process what had just happened.

Kuroka disappeared down the hall, her teasing laughter echoing faintly as Freya sighed heavily and dropped onto the couch beside Asia. "I swear," Freya muttered, shaking her head, "that cat is going to be the death of me."

Asia fidgeted in her seat, her cheeks flushed as she glanced toward the hallway where Kuroka had disappeared. Poking her fingers together nervously, she murmured, "Well… maybe she's not wrong…"

Freya froze mid-sigh, her blue eyes snapping to Asia. "Excuse me?" she asked, her tone a mixture of disbelief and curiosity.

Asia's blush deepened, and she looked down, her voice barely audible as she explained. "I mean… Shin will probably be really stressed when he comes home… after everything he's going through right now." She hesitated, her emerald eyes darting up to Freya before quickly looking away again. "M-Maybe all three of us should… well… you know."

Freya's jaw dropped slightly, her brows raising as the implication of Asia's words sank in. "Asia," she said slowly, sitting up straighter on the couch, "are you actually agreeing with Kuroka?"

Asia squirmed under Freya's gaze, her face burning red as she nodded slightly. "W-Well, Shin's been through so much," she stammered. "With Jotunheim, and Odin, and all the punishment he's facing… I just want him to know he's loved. I-I thought maybe we could… um… help him relax when he gets home."

Freya stared at Asia for a moment, her shock giving way to a soft laugh as she leaned back on the couch. "You're full of surprises, Asia," she said, her lips curling into an amused smile. "I never would've guessed you'd suggest something like this."

Asia covered her face with her hands, letting out a muffled squeak of embarrassment. "I-It's not like that!" she said quickly. "I just thought it might help him feel better!"

Freya chuckled, shaking her head. "Oh, I'm sure it would," she teased lightly. "But maybe we should hold off on any… group efforts until he's back and we know he's in one piece."

Asia peeked out from behind her hands, her blush still vivid. "Y-You don't think it's a bad idea?" she asked timidly.

Freya smirked, reaching over to pat Asia's shoulder. "Not a bad idea," she admitted. "Just… unexpected coming from you."

Asia groaned softly, burying her face in her hands again as Freya's laughter filled the room, the tension easing ever so slightly.

(Scene Break)

Shin's mind was consumed by yet another life, the endless stream of memories blurring together as he relived them one after another. He had lost count of how many lives he had experienced—hundreds, thousands—it didn't matter anymore. Each one etched itself into his soul like a burning brand, a scar he would carry forever.

This time, he found himself seeing through the eyes of a child. A little girl, no more than six or seven, with a world full of innocence and joy. She laughed as her father scooped her up in his arms, spinning her around as they played in the small yard outside their home. Shin could feel the sheer happiness radiating through her, the way her laughter bubbled up uncontrollably as her father made silly faces and called her his "little angel."

For a brief moment, everything felt perfect. He could feel her love for her father, her unshakable belief that he could protect her from anything.

Then, the memory shifted.

The scene jumped to the next morning. The little girl was startled awake by the deafening sounds of crashing and clanging outside. Her heart raced as she sat up in bed, her small hands clutching her blanket. Screams echoed through the village, a cacophony of fear and chaos.

"Papa?" she whispered, her voice trembling as she climbed out of bed.

Her bare feet padded across the wooden floor as she made her way to the door. She opened it slowly, but what greeted her on the other side was nothing short of a nightmare.

The rest of the house—the place she had called home—was gone, smashed into rubble. A massive meteor had fallen from the sky, obliterating everything in its path. Her little heart pounded in terror as she stepped forward, the world around her a mess of broken wood, shattered stone, and ash.

And then she saw him.

Pinned beneath the meteor, his lifeless body twisted and crushed, was her father. Shin recognized the man instantly—he had already relived his life not long ago, had felt his love for his daughter, his pride in being her protector. Now, through the little girl's eyes, Shin felt the raw, unfiltered grief of losing him, the disbelief and horror as her small mind struggled to comprehend what she was seeing.

"Papa…" the girl whispered, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her face. She took a shaky step forward, reaching out instinctively as if she could somehow undo what had happened.

Then, her gaze lifted, and Shin felt her terror spike.

A deafening roar filled the air as a massive wave, taller than any building she had ever seen, barreled toward the village. The water churned violently, sweeping up debris in its path as it hurtled closer.

"Run!" someone screamed in the distance, but there was no time. No escape.

The wave hit with brutal force, crashing into the village and sweeping everything away in an instant. Shin felt the girl's small body tossed around like a rag doll, the water slamming her into rocks and splintered wood. Pain wracked her fragile form as her limbs struck hard surfaces, and her lungs burned as she struggled to breathe, only to inhale water instead.

Her vision blurred, her strength fading as she was pulled under. The last thing she saw was the murky depths of the wave consuming her world, the terror and despair of knowing she would never see her father—or anyone else—again.

Then, silence.

Shin came back to himself, gasping for air as if he had been the one drowning. His hands trembled, his body drenched in sweat as he sat in the emptiness of his mindscape, reliving the final moments of yet another innocent life.

"Another one…" he whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt. "I… I did this."

The pain in his chest was unbearable, but he knew there were still more lives to come. The punishment would not end until he had relived them all.

(Scene Break)

Asia blinked awake as the soft morning light filtered through the sheer curtains of the bedroom she, Shin, Freya, and Kuroka shared. Her emerald eyes fluttered open, and she stretched wide, letting out a soft yawn as she shook off the lingering drowsiness. A flicker of excitement sparked within her—surely Shin would be here now. The three of them had stayed up almost all night waiting for him, their anticipation barely letting them sleep.

But as Asia looked around the room, her heart sank. Shin was nowhere to be found.

The bed beside her was empty, and the stillness of the room felt heavy. Her gaze shifted toward the balcony, where she noticed Freya standing silently, her golden hair catching the soft light of the rising sun. The sight might have been serene, but Asia's stomach twisted as she saw the goddess's shoulders trembling, her face partially obscured by a small handkerchief.

Panic filled Asia, her breath quickening as she threw off the covers and rushed out of bed. The pale blue nightie she wore clung to her, its sheer fabric leaving little to the imagination, but she didn't care. Her only thought was reaching Freya.

"Freya?" Asia called, her voice filled with worry as she stepped onto the balcony. "What is it? Is Shin okay? Don't tell me—" Her voice cracked as tears welled in her eyes. "Don't tell me they banished him! Please, tell me he's coming back!"

Freya sniffled, dabbing her cheeks delicately with the handkerchief as she turned to face Asia. Her blue eyes were red-rimmed, glistening with fresh tears, but she forced a small, reassuring smile as she placed a hand gently on Asia's shoulder.

"No," Freya said softly, her voice calm but tinged with sadness. "Shin has not been banished. He will return to us, Asia. I promise you that."

Asia's tears spilled over as she clasped Freya's hands tightly, her emerald eyes searching desperately for comfort. "Then why are you crying?" she asked, her voice trembling. "If Shin's coming back, why are you so upset?"

Freya hesitated, her gaze drifting out over the horizon as she gathered her thoughts. Finally, she sighed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know," she said, her words weighed down by emotion, "if the Shin who comes back to us… will still be the Shin we know."

Asia froze, her breath catching in her throat. "What do you mean?"

Freya sat beside Asia, her expression somber as she looked out at the morning horizon. The tension in the room was palpable, heavy with the weight of the unknown. Finally, Freya broke the silence, her voice steady but tinged with sadness.

"Thor sent word to me," she said softly. "Odin has passed judgment and dished out Shin's punishment."

Asia turned sharply, her emerald eyes wide with concern. "What is it? What's happening to him?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Freya hesitated, her gaze dropping for a moment before meeting Asia's. "Right now, Shin is in Odin's throne room, undergoing the Trial of Eternal Memories," she explained.

Asia's brows furrowed in confusion, her voice filled with dread. "The Trial of Eternal Memories? What's that?"

Freya sighed deeply, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as she tried to find the words. "It is one of Odin's most severe punishments," she said. "The condemned is placed into a state where they relive the lives of those they have wronged—their victims. They experience their joys, their loves, their hopes. But then, they also witness their deaths, moment by moment, feeling every ounce of their fear, their pain, and their sorrow."

Asia gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as her eyes widened in horror. "That's… that's awful," she whispered.

Freya nodded solemnly. "It is meant to be," she said. "It is a punishment designed not only to hold someone accountable but to force them to understand the weight of their actions in the most profound way possible."

Asia's tears began to spill again, streaking down her cheeks as she clutched Freya's arm. "But… but how will Shin survive something like that? How can anyone endure it?"

Freya reached out and gently placed a hand over Asia's trembling fingers. "The trial is designed with a safeguard," she explained. "When he wakes from it, he won't remember the lives he witnessed—not in their entirety. It's made that way so a person doesn't lose themselves while in it. The mind can only handle so much."

Asia blinked, her breath catching as she tried to make sense of Freya's words. "So… he won't remember them?"

"Not entirely," Freya said, her voice heavy. "But he will remember their pain. Their sorrow. Their fear. Their faces will haunt him for the rest of his life. He will instinctively know who they are, even if he doesn't recall every detail."

Asia shook her head, her tears falling faster as she buried her face in her hands. "That's… that's too much," she sobbed. "He's already suffering so much, and now this?"

Freya leaned closer, wrapping an arm around Asia's shoulders and holding her tightly. "I know," she said softly. "But this is Odin's way of ensuring Shin never forgets the consequences of his actions. It is cruel, but it is also just."

Asia sniffled, leaning into Freya's comforting embrace as she whispered, "I just want him back. I don't care how long it takes or what he has to endure—I just want him to come home."

As Asia and Freya sat together, the heavy silence between them was suddenly shattered by the sound of a door creaking open. Kuroka's head popped into the room, her golden eyes sparkling with curiosity and mischief, utterly oblivious to the somber mood.

"That sounds really rough," Kuroka said, her voice carrying its usual playful lilt. "Reliving one hundred thousand lives and feeling all their pain? Oof, poor Shin, nya."

Asia and Freya both turned to her, their tear-streaked faces contrasting sharply with Kuroka's casual demeanor.

Kuroka stepped further into the room, stretching lazily as she continued. "If that's true, then I don't think what we've got planned is going to be enough to cheer him up, nya. We're definitely going to have to come up with a new plan to make him feel better."

Asia tilted her head, still sniffling. "What do you mean, a new plan?" she asked innocently, her emerald eyes wide.

Kuroka smirked, her golden eyes glinting as her tails flicked behind her. "Well, I was thinking… Asia, have you ever done ana—"

Before she could finish, a handkerchief flew through the air and hit her square in the face.

"Dammit, you horny cat!" Freya yelled, her cheeks red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. "Go away before I cut off your damn tails!"

Kuroka yelped, stumbling back as she held up her hands defensively. "Alright, alright, I'm going, nya!" she said, her voice carrying a mix of feigned innocence and amusement. She turned to leave, her bare form on full display as her tails swished behind her.

Freya's eyes widened, and her frustration boiled over. "And put some clothes on, you shameless feline!" she shouted after her, her voice echoing through the halls.

Kuroka scurried away, her laughter trailing behind her as Freya let out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Asia, despite herself, let out a small, shaky giggle through her tears, and Freya shook her head with a groan. "I swear, she's going to drive me insane."

Asia wiped her tears away, a small flicker of curiosity crossing her tear-streaked face as she turned to Freya. "But… what was she going to say, though?" she asked, tilting her head. "If Kuroka has a plan to cheer Shin up, we should hear it! Maybe it's a good idea!"

Freya froze mid-motion, her hand hovering near her temple before it slapped against her forehead with a dramatic groan. She dragged her palm down her face, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Oh, Asia," Freya said, her voice filled with exasperation. "Poor, sweet Asia. You are too innocent for your own good."

Asia blinked, her emerald eyes wide and confused. "What do you mean?"

Freya leaned forward, placing both hands firmly on Asia's shoulders and looking her directly in the eyes. "Stay away from Kuroka," she said seriously. "She will corrupt you."

Asia's cheeks flushed, and she fidgeted nervously, poking her fingers together. "C-Corrupt me? But she just wanted to help Shin, right?"

Freya sighed deeply, releasing Asia's shoulders and leaning back with a weary expression. "Trust me," she said. "If you knew what was going on in that cat's head, you'd be running for the hills."

Asia tilted her head again, still not fully understanding, but she nodded hesitantly. "O-Okay… if you say so."

(Scene Break)

Shin's crimson eyes fluttered open, blinking a few times as his vision came into focus. Above him, the intricate depiction of a battle sprawled across the ceiling caught his attention—shields clashing, swords raised, and gods locked in combat. It was a sight he recognized immediately.

Odin's throne room.

He frowned slightly, his mind hazy as he struggled to piece together why he was there. Then it hit him, the memory cutting through the fog like a blade.

The Trial of Eternal Memories.

His body tensed, and his breath quickened as he tried to recall the experience. But there was… nothing. No faces, no names, no specific moments. Had he already gone through it? It didn't feel like he had.

Suddenly, like a dam breaking, a torrent of sensations overwhelmed him. He gasped sharply as memories—not full lives, but fragments of them—flooded his mind. The searing pain of injuries, the sheer terror of helplessness, the heart-wrenching sorrow of lives ripped away. Their screams echoed in his ears, their fear and anguish crashing into him like a tidal wave.

Shin's crimson eyes widened in horror as his breathing grew erratic. He gritted his teeth, clutching his head as if to stop the onslaught, but the memories persisted, vivid and unrelenting.

"Well," he muttered through gritted teeth, his voice trembling, "that's… unpleasant."

He sat up slowly, his movements stiff and disoriented. The weight of the memories clung to him like a suffocating shroud, their pain embedded deep within his mind. He couldn't get them out of his head—their cries, their faces, their fear.

As he steadied himself, his gaze shifted, landing on Odin seated on his throne. The All-Father's single eye was fixed on him, calm but unyielding, his presence commanding as always. Huginn and Muninn perched silently on his shoulders, their dark eyes watching Shin intently.

For a moment, the room was silent, save for Shin's uneven breathing.

He met Odin's gaze, his crimson eyes filled with a mixture of exhaustion and unspoken questions. "So…" Shin said, his voice hoarse, "I guess it's over?"

Odin's expression remained unreadable as he leaned forward slightly, his voice steady and heavy with meaning. "It has only begun," he said simply.

Odin sat back on his throne, his single eye fixed on Shin with a calm but weighty gaze. His voice broke the silence, deep and resonant, carrying the authority of millennia.

"What you are feeling now," Odin began, his tone measured, "is but a small sliver of what is to come."

Shin blinked, his crimson eyes still wide as the echoes of screams and flashes of terror lingered in his mind. His hands tightened into fists, his jaw clenching as he forced himself to focus on Odin's words.

Odin leaned forward slightly, the ravens on his shoulders shifting as they watched Shin intently. "The memories will come back to you, bit by bit," Odin continued. "Their faces, their pain, their final moments—it will all return. Slowly, over time, so that you may maintain your sanity and sense of self."

Shin's breath hitched, his gaze dropping for a moment as he processed the weight of those words. "So… this isn't over?" he asked hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper.

Odin shook his head solemnly. "No," he said. "The Trial of Eternal Memories is not meant to destroy you. It is meant to change you, to remind you—forever—of the lives that were lost because of your actions. Their memories will not overwhelm you all at once, but they will linger, piece by piece. A lifetime of faces that will haunt you."

Shin gritted his teeth, his hands trembling slightly as he gripped the edge of the chair he sat on. The fragments of memory already felt unbearable, and knowing more would come filled him with a cold, sinking dread.

"How… how long will it last?" Shin asked, his voice strained.

Odin's gaze remained heavy as he leaned forward on his throne, his voice calm yet carrying the weight of unshakable truth. "Until you make peace with them, Shin," he said, his tone resolute.

Shin's crimson eyes narrowed slightly, his breath uneven as he processed Odin's words. "Make peace?" he echoed, his voice hoarse and tinged with confusion.

Odin nodded slowly, his expression unyielding. "Whether you know it or not, all those you have killed—every single soul—is now a part of you. A small piece of their essence remains within you. Their memories, their pains, their horrors—they are not just a punishment, Shin Hyoudou. They are a call to action."

Shin's body tensed, his fists clenching as the implications of Odin's words began to sink in.

"If you want these memories to go away," Odin continued, his voice sharp and deliberate, "if you want the pain and the horrors to end, you must make peace with them. One by one, you must face your victims. Understand them. Atone for what you have done to them. Only then will they fade."

Shin's breath caught in his throat, the enormity of what Odin was saying pressing down on him like a mountain. "Make peace with… all of them?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," Odin replied, his tone unflinching. "One by one, you will face each soul inside of you. And one by one, they will depart as you make peace with them. When every last soul has found peace, only then will I lift the curse of The Chain of Responsibility from you."

Shin lowered his gaze, his crimson eyes staring blankly at the floor as the weight of the task ahead settled over him. Hundreds of thousands of lives—all lost because of him. All waiting for him to make amends.

"And if I can't?" Shin asked quietly, his voice trembling. "What if… what if I fail?"

Odin's gaze softened slightly, though his tone remained firm. "That is a choice only you can make," he said. "But know this: the burden will remain with you until you rise to the challenge. This is your atonement, Shin Hyoudou. It is not meant to be easy. Atonement never is."

Shin's fists trembled at his sides, his crimson eyes filled with a mixture of guilt, determination, and dread as he looked up at Odin. "I'll do it," he said firmly, his voice steadying. "I'll face them all."

Odin leaned back in his throne, his expression calm but unreadable. "Good," he said. "Then your path begins here. May you find the strength to see it through."

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