Chapter Text
The sound of blood spurting from pierced flesh was the only thing that resonated in Brunhilde’s ears. She fell to her knees, her senses blurring as her mind was flooded by a deafening ring of a stark reality: Humanity had lost. Sakata Kintoki had fallen. He cracked, fading into fragments of green light alongside her second youngest sister, Skeggjöld.
Beside her, Göll, the youngest, stood frozen. Tears streamed silently from her fading emerald eyes. She had wept for her sisters so many times that her once-piercing screams had hollowed into a vacant, judgmental stare. Without a single word, the girl turned and fled, running into the unknown.
In the arena, the humans hung their heads in defeat, while the gods licked their lips, casting their arrogance into the air like tattered war banners. The eldest Valkyrie could only look away from the harrowing sight of humans clinging to one another, lost in silent sobs. Hope had vanished from their minds, leaving only a hollow despair to fill what remained of their wretched souls.
The messenger god of Greece appeared behind her. His face was a mask of pity, but the mischievous glint in his eyes spoke of a mockery that ran far deeper. Brunhilde gritted her teeth; she was powerless now. There was no telling what the gods had in store for her and the remaining Valkyries.
“First Valkyrie, Brunhilde. The Council summons you.”
Hermes offered no further explanation and vanished. It was a clear sign: her authority and status had been stripped away, reduced to nothing—or perhaps, about to be revoked entirely. She stood up with great effort, her legs trembling like a paper doll's. She forced herself to move, hurrying her pace, desperate not to provoke the gods any further than she already had.
"What?! No—you cannot do this!"
Brunhilde’s scream echoed through the chamber, her eyes wide with horror. Before her, the rows of gods wore masks of mockery and terrifying sneers. They had just delivered an edict she never could have imagined: they demanded the Einherjar as their trophies. Was death not enough? Must they be stripped of their dignity and reduced to mere objects to be owned?
"And who are you to question our decree?" a voice boomed. "We were merciful enough to grant your request for Ragnarok, and you have failed—utterly and shamefully."
A chorus of insults erupted from the other gods, their voices rising in a chaotic tide of ridicule. Zeus slammed his gavel, the sound cracking through the air like thunder, demanding silence. Beside him, Odin stood. His mere presence felt like a crushing weight, chilling the room into a sudden, suffocating hush.
"Tomorrow, the fallen Einherjar shall be resurrected first," Odin’s voice was cold, final. "They will be kept under temporary guard until the gods summon them to be claimed. And you, Valkyrie, will preside over the ceremony to sever the Völundr. Until then, you are forbidden from seeking any contact with them."
Brunhilde’s fists clenched so tightly that blood began to drip from her palms, pierced by her own nails.
As the council adjourned and the chamber emptied, the eldest Valkyrie was finally left in the suffocating silence. The moment the last god vanished, she collapsed to the floor like a puppet with its strings severed.
How could she ever face the Einherjar again? How could she look her sisters in the eye? She was the one who had ignited this war, the one who had led them to the slaughter—and now this? Those men, the Einherjar, had fought with every fiber of their being, only to be met with a fate far more wretched than death itself.
How would they react when they learned what awaited them? How would they look at her if they knew the truth—that she had started this war for a reason so selfish? Would it have been better to remain silent? To let them perish in the beginning so they would never have to endure this trial? What would her sisters say? That their effort, their unquestioning sacrifice, and their unwavering loyalty to her had been for nothing?
And yet, despite the crushing guilt, she could not silence the whisper of relief in the back of her mind—a flicker of joy she loathed herself for feeling. Her sisters were coming back. And in her darkest hour, nothing made her heart ache with more happiness than that.
The following day, the Einherjar were gathered in the grand halls of Valhalla. Confusion hung heavy in the air; their eyes searched for Brunhilde, filled with unspoken questions. Simo Häyhä, Okita Souji, and Qin Shi Huang struggled to remain upright, supported by Jack and Sasaki, and their respective Valkyries. The three of them were still in the throes of recovery—Qin Shi Huang, in particular, had been forcibly roused from his coma, leaving his consciousness drifting in and out of a hazy fog.
Brunhilde could only look away, unable to find the courage to meet their gazes.
Slowly, the hall was bathed in a soft, emerald glow. Out of the void, the fallen Einherjar and their Valkyries began to manifest. Some still bore the grisly marks of their final moments, especially those whose battles were recent like Kintoki, Leonidas, and Rasputin. As they materialized, their faces were etched with a profound weariness, their expressions lost in the disorientation of returning from the brink of non-existence.
The heavy silence of the hall was shattered by the rhythmic thud of a staff striking the floor. All eyes turned upward. There, on the high balcony, the Norse All-Father stood like a shadow cast over the sun. Beside him, Zeus leaned back in his golden throne, a playful, predatory grin stretched across his weathered face.
"Listen well, souls of the deceased and survivors of the arena," Zeus’s voice boomed, carrying a terrifying lightness. "By the decree of the Council of Gods, the rebellion of Ragnarok has reached its conclusion. Humanity has failed to prove its worthiness for continued existence."
A ripple of murmurs broke out among the Einherjar, but it was quickly silenced by a wave of cold, oppressive aura radiating from Odin.
"However," Odin’s voice cut through the air, low and absolute. "The heavens have found a new use for your spirits. You shall not be erased. Instead, you are to be preserved—not as warriors, but as the spoils of war. From this moment forth, your lives, your wills, and your very souls no longer belong to yourselves, nor to the Valkyries who led you."
He looked down at the crowd, his single eye scanning the ranks until it rested momentarily on Kintoki.
"You are now the personal property of the Gods. You will be claimed, housed, and used as your new masters see fit. You are the trophies of the Valhalla, and your first act of submission begins now."
He turned his cold gaze toward Brunhilde, who stood trembling below. "Valkyrie. Step forward and perform the Final Severance. Break the Völundr. Show them that their bond with the sisters is no more."
A wave of shock rippled through the Einherjar, while their Valkyries turned to Brunhilde with expressions of sheer disbelief. In the short yet intense time they had spent with their warriors, they had forged bonds that transcended mere partnership. They had found affection, deep-seated respect, and a love that defied the heavens. To the sisters, these Einherjar were family—their brothers-in-arms, their platonic soulmates who had shared the very essence of their souls.
Beyond the agony of being torn apart, the Valkyries knew the devastating price of a forced separation. Through Völundr, two souls had become one; to sever them now was like unravelling the threads of a finished garment by force. In the end, it was the Einherjar who would bear the brunt of the trauma, more so than the Valkyries.
Given their current states—battered, bloodied, and broken from the arena—such a violent psychic severance could be fatal. To do this now was not just an insult; it was a death sentence disguised as mercy.
Odin fixed his gaze upon Brunhilde, delivering a silent, iron-clad command. The eldest Valkyrie stepped forward, her voice trembling as she began to chant the forbidden incantation. Her sisters’ eyes widened in pure horror.
"Sister Hilde, no!"
"You cannot do this!"
"Sister, stop!"
"Brunhilde, please!"
But Brunhilde only closed her eyes, forcing the words out and ignoring the desperate pleas of her kin. A faint, sinister crimson glow began to emanate from the Einherjar and their Valkyries. Ethereal chains materialized out of the air, binding them together—the physical manifestation of the Völundr. Slowly, agonizingly, the chains began to crack.
The hall was suddenly filled with a chorus of screams, guttural groans, and muffled shrieks of agony from the Einherjar. One by one, the chains shattered, dissolving into gray ash that faded into nothingness.
The toll was immediate. Many of the warriors slumped over, falling to their knees or collapsing entirely. Brunhilde watched, her heart breaking, as Alvitr frantically shook the unconscious Qin Shi Huang in her arms, her voice hysterical. The once-great King looked pitiable; the combination of his forced awakening and the violent severance had left visible fissures of light across his soul. Had his spirit not been so exceptionally resilient, he would have surely shattered and vanished into Niflheim right then and there.
Many other Einherjar suffered a similar fate, though perhaps none as dire as the Emperor of China. Göll watched in horror as Göndul threw herself over Nikola Tesla’s body; the genius was convulsing in a state of deep unconsciousness, his mind likely shattered by the sudden void. Beside them, Skeggjöld wept uncontrollably, her tears falling onto Kintoki’s still, unresponsive body. The hall was a mosaic of broken heroes.
Amidst the chaos, Adam—forever blinded—began to stumble forward. His hands reached out, trembling as he searched for the silhouettes of his children. Reginleif clung to his side, trying her best to support the Father of Humanity. Yet, he remained stubborn, payng no heed to his own fractured state. He ignored the agony of the severance, focused solely on the nearest sounds of his sons' cries, desperate to reach them one last time.
"Take those humans to their designated quarters!" Zeus bellowed, his voice echoing with a cruel delight. "And take Adam to the room prepared for him!"
A swarm of divine guards surrounded them, seizing the Einherjar by force. Some Valkyries, like Geirölul and Hrist, snarled and attempted to strike back, but a single, hollow look from their eldest sister struck them into a powerless silence. They could only stand by, forced to watch as the Einherjar were dragged away.
Those who remained conscious stumbled along with trembling legs, while the unconscious were hauled across the cold stone floor by their limbs, handled like lifeless, heavy burdens.
Then, there was Adam. The silent, ever-composed man lost every shred of his usual tranquility. He let out a feral, agonized roar, thrashing uncontrollably like a madman as he was wrenched away from his children. The Father of Humanity, who had once stood tall against the heavens for his family, was now being dragged into the shadows, screaming for the sons he could no longer see.