Muspelheim.
The barren, charred wasteland stretched endlessly, devoid of life. Rivers of molten lava carved glowing veins through the land, illuminating the oppressive darkness with a foreboding crimson glow. Sulfur filled the air, and the heat was enough to burn lesser beings to ash.
Ragna extended his senses beneath the surface.
Deep within the volcanic depths, two voices echoed. One was arrogant, laced with defiance—the voice of Thor. The other was ancient, slow, and rumbling like the breaking of the world itself—Surtr, the fire demon foretold to bring Ragnarök.
"This is my crown, the source of my power."
Surtr idly tapped the massive, jagged crest upon his head, resembling a fiery brow. His tone was indifferent, almost mocking.
Thor, bound in enchanted chains, smirked. "So, if I want to stop Ragnarök, all I have to do is knock that thing off your head?"
He laughed, as if he had uncovered some great secret.
Surtr's molten form radiated heat as he stirred from his throne of brimstone. The scars of past battles marked his body, his right hand and leg still darkened from Odin's long-ago attack. Even weakened, the fire demon was still a titan of destruction.
But this was Muspelheim, his domain. Here, even in his diminished state, he was still the embodiment of the prophecy—the destroyer of Asgard.
Surtr stepped forward, dragging the thick chains that bound Thor. His ember-like eyes flared as he spoke, his voice a guttural tremor that shook the cavern.
"I am the end of Asgard. And you—" Surtr leaned in close, molten embers falling from his body. "You will be the one to bring its ruin."
Thor grinned. "This is so exciting! I can't wait to see you turn into a real fire giant!"
He thought he was in control.
"Exciting?"
A new voice cut through the cavern like a blade.
"No. It's just a joke."
Ragna materialized from the shadows of the underground chamber, his presence warping the oppressive heat around him. His expression was unreadable, cold.
Thor's confident facade wavered for a moment. "Brother, or should I call you the ruler of the Heavenly Palace?"
Bound in chains, unable to move, Thor could only offer an awkward chuckle.
"Ragna … Lord of the Heavenly Palace."
Surtr's tone darkened, the molten rivers around them growing more turbulent. Despite the lack of a visible face, there was a clear shift in his demeanor.
Thor tensed. The moment of banter had passed.
Summoning his strength, he wrenched against the chains, snapping them apart with ease. His hand shot forward, palm open, summoning Mjolnir.
Yet, before the hammer could reach him, Surtr moved.
With a massive, clawed hand, the fire giant caught Thor mid-motion, lifting him effortlessly.
Mjolnir, still soaring through the air, was intercepted. Surtr's massive blade slammed down, forcing the hammer to crash into the molten ground, causing an explosion of sparks.
Thor struggled but found himself completely overpowered.
For the first time, true danger flashed in his eyes.
Ragna , however, remained still.
"I told you," he murmured, watching Thor's helpless struggle. "This was never a game."
Surtr's deep laugh reverberated through the cavern. Around them, the darkness trembled. From every crevice, Flame Giants and fire dragons emerged, their molten eyes gleaming in the dim glow.
"You think you've uncovered the truth?" Surtr's grip tightened around Thor. "You know nothing."
Ragna 's gaze swept over the fiery horde before settling on the fire demon.
"I know more than you think," he said coolly.
Surtr remained silent, watching him carefully.
"You planned to use Thor as your pawn, didn't you?" Ragna continued, stepping forward. "Let him take your crown back to Asgard. Let him place it in Odin's vault, where the Eternal Flame still burns. And once it touches the flame—" Ragna smiled coldly. "—your full power would be restored. You'd reclaim what Odin stole and raze Asgard to the ground. Because Odin is gone. He's dying. And you knew there would be no one left to stop you."
Thor froze. His entire plan—his overconfidence—had played perfectly into Surtr's hands.
The fire demon let out a deep, thunderous laugh, his form flaring brighter.
"I am the twilight of the gods! The prophecy will be fulfilled!" Surtr roared, the chamber trembling as if the realm itself acknowledged his declaration.
Even his broken arm and leg began to glow, regenerating in the heat of his own fury.
"Have your wounds healed?" Ragna arched an eyebrow. "It doesn't matter. You've already lost your true power."
Surtr flinched.
"Even at your peak, you barely rivaled Odin," Ragna continued. "Now? You're nothing."
Surtr's molten form quivered with restrained rage.
After a long pause, the fire demon rumbled, "Thor is in my hands. If you take him, leave. You are not welcome in Muspelheim."
Ragna smirked. "Since when have I needed an invitation?"
With a single flick of his wrist, Surtr's massive arm was wrenched downward by an unseen force, causing the fire demon to stumble.
Thor, now free, crashed to the ground at Ragna 's feet.
"In the future, think more," Ragna muttered, looking down at his brother. "You are not worthy of being king yet."
Thor pushed himself up, brushing off the shame. He forced a grin, but there was an undeniable weight behind his eyes.
"Ragna !"
Surtr roared in fury.
Around them, the horde of Flame Giants and dragons surged forward.
Ragna 's golden eyes glowed.
"Ragnarök? The twilight of the gods?"
His voice was soft, yet it echoed with an undeniable power.
"I am the dusk. I am the prophecy."
He raised the Sun Scepter.
From the heavens, a blinding, golden energy descended like judgment itself. It tore through the cavern, obliterating everything in its path. The ceiling disintegrated, exposing the sky above as the very foundations of Muspelheim trembled.
Surtr's army—gone.
His molten crown—shattered.
Thor's breath hitched. He slowly summoned Mjolnir back to his hand, glancing around at the destruction.
"Come on," Ragna said, his tone final. "Mother is worried about you. And there will be no next time."
Thor nodded solemnly. "Right. Let's go."
But as they prepared to leave, Thor hesitated, looking at the remnants of Surtr's broken crown.
"Shouldn't we take it?" he asked.
Ragna scoffed.
"You still don't get it, do you?"
He turned, eyes glinting in the firelight.
"The Eternal Flame is Surtr's true power. As long as it burns, he cannot die." Ragna smirked. "The crown? It's worthless."
Thor hesitated, then sighed. "Maybe we could hide it somewhere… far away?"
Ragna shook his head.
Looking down at Muspelheim's shattered remnants, he raised a single finger.
A golden spark ignited at its tip.
Thor barely had time to react before Ragna flicked it downward.
A beam of golden light shot through Muspelheim, splitting the realm in two.
A deafening explosion followed.
"Ragnarök?" Ragna whispered, watching the fireworks in the distance. "No… this is the real twilight of the gods."
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