The Council of Valhalla was a sea of golden light and suffocating arrogance. The verdict had already been reached: Humanity was to be erased. As Brunhilde, the eldest of the Valkyries, stood trembling with suppressed rage, the Gods sneered down at her. They weren't listening. To them, she was a mid-level bureaucrat pleading for a doomed species.
Then, the heavy doors of the assembly hall didn't just open—they were commanded to part.
A man stepped through. He looked to be in his prime, nearly thirty years of age, with a gaze that held the weight of a hundred empires. This was Khandakar Addin Hasan Alif, better known to the cosmos as Thunder the Warrior. He didn't bow. He didn't plead. He walked into the center of the divine circle with a casual confidence that made even Zeus lean forward.
"Thirteen rounds?" Alif's voice cut through the divine chatter like a blade. "Too short. Too simple. If you want to erase humanity, do it properly. I propose a Mega Phase. Ninety-nine rounds of absolute war."
The Gods fell silent.
"I will take one hundred days to prepare the human team," Alif continued, his tone dangerously relaxed. "And I suggest you Gods do the same. You'll need the time."
The audacity was so immense that the Gods, fueled by their own vanity, didn't feel insulted—they felt amused. A 99-round slaughter? More time to prepare their executioners? They accepted.
The Architect and the Valkyrie
Outside the hall, the air was thick with Brunhilde's fury. She turned on Alif, her face a mask of desperation.
"Ninety-nine rounds?!" she screamed, her voice echoing through the marble corridors. "You are handing them our heads on a silver platter! You gave them a hundred days to sharpen their spears, and you stripped away the Volundrs! Without our Valkyrie magic, without the soul-bond, how can a man stand against a God? Are you trying to erase us yourself? 😡"
Alif stopped. He didn't look back. He looked toward the horizon where the sun set over Valhalla.
"Men can do anything if they want, Brunhilde," he said, his voice calm, steady, and immovable. "We don't need women to survive. I won't let you and your sisters die in a suicide pact of thirteen rounds. There are only thirteen of you, and I have ninety-nine battles to win. You are not the solution; you are just a witness. You can help me if you wish, but do not mistake your necessity for my reality."
Livid, Brunhilde lunged forward, her hand reaching for his throat, fueled by centuries of divine warrior instinct. But halfway through the strike, she froze. It wasn't magic. It wasn't a barrier. It was as if the universe itself had simply decided her movement was over. She couldn't move a muscle. Alif didn't even flinch. He simply walked away.
100 Days Later: The Dawn of the Void
The Arena of Valhalla had been transformed. It was larger, grimmer, and more silent than ever before. The billion-strong crowd of humanity sat in a state of collective mourning. Göll, the youngest Valkyrie, was weeping.
"It's over... it's already over," she sobbed, looking at the opponent standing in the center of the sands.
It wasn't Thor. It wasn't a warrior of the Aesir. It was Saturn, the Primordial Force of Ragnarok. He was the end of all things, the one who brings the "Twilight" to the Gods themselves. He stood like a monument of cold entropy, his presence alone causing the stone floor to crack and age.
"Who could possibly face... that?" Göll whispered.
Alif stood at the edge of the human balcony, his hands in his pockets, looking as casual as if he were watching a village tour. He glanced at the crying girl and then toward the darkened tunnel.
"Nah," Alif said, a small, confident smirk playing on his lips. "He'd win."
The First Greeting
From the tunnel stepped the King of Sparta. Leonidas I walked into the light. He carried a bronze shield and a spear that had seen the blood of Persians. There was no glow of a Volundr. No magical aura. Just the scent of leather, sweat, and ancient iron.
Leonidas stopped before the Titan. The height difference was staggering. Saturn looked down at the King of Sparta as if looking at an ant that had dared to climb onto a throne.
"I am Saturn," the God spoke, his voice the sound of a closing tomb. "I am the end of the age. I am the reason your gods fear the dark. State your name, mortal, before you are erased from history."
The Spartan tilted his head, his grip tightening on his spear. He didn't look like a man facing a Primordial; he looked like a man who had finally found a challenge worthy of his life.
"I am Leonidas," the King replied, his voice a low growl that resonated through the stadium. "And I don't care about your ages or your ends. I'm just here to show you that even 'The End' has a beginning. And it starts with my shield."
The first round of the 99 was ready. The air turned cold. The Mega Phase had begun.