Jötunheimr. A boundless realm of eternal frost.
The sky above was a blanket of somber grey, the color of despair, beneath which mountains clawed upward, frozen monuments to the world's birth. Thick snow, an all-consuming shroud, devoured every trace of the earth. The midday sun was a phantom, a dying candle-flame flickering on the horizon. This was a land of death, survived only by the Frost Giants—the children of this hostile realm.
Across the vast white desolation, the colossal figure of Jóson strode with rhythmic, earth-shaking steps. His skin was a peculiar grey-white, setting him apart from the glacier-hued giants of Jötunheimr. Towering, wordless, and radiating a quiet storm of rage with every breath, he was a spectacle of might.
Yet, the most formidable presence was not the giant, but the small figure seated calmly upon his left shoulder. Clad in dark blue robes, his back ramrod straight, sat Xuxin.
Compared to Jóson, he was a mere fragment; compared to ordinary men, Xuxin might have been the tallest. His hair and eyes were pitch black, twin voids of darkness. On his left hand, a dark metallic gauntlet shone, set with a jet-black gem the size of a goose egg, shimmering with a profound, mysterious luster.
"Master," Jóson's deep voice boomed, cutting the cold silence. "We have traveled far, but the children of the Frost Giants avoid us."
"They knew of our arrival with the first step," Xuxin replied, his voice flat, yet firm as bedrock. "Perhaps they fear your greatness, and none dare face us."
"I fear they are afraid of you rather than me," Jóson countered respectfully.
"We proceed. We shall soon meet the strongest."
It was not long before a towering, dark castle appeared, constructed of gleaming black stone and frigid ice that reflected the moon's chill light. Massive doors parted, welcoming them into a vast hall. Hearth fires smoldered, and the hall echoed with the boisterous laughter of giants.
Jóson stepped into the center of the hall, filling the space with his immense frame. Xuxin remained still upon his shoulder. Before them, upon a throne of ice, sat a giant with hair as white as fresh snow. His crystal-clear eyes held a mix of wisdom and cunning: Útgarða-Loki, King of the Eternal Land.
"I am unfamiliar with these guests," the King spoke with a bored drawl. "Who are you?"
"I am Xuxin, and this is Jóson, my disciple."
"This feast has no room for the nameless. If you wish to join, you must prove your worth."
"Very well," Xuxin accepted without a moment's hesitation.
"Bring the wine!" Útgarða-Loki commanded.
Frost Giant servants struggled forward with a massive goblet of liquor—a vessel many times larger than Xuxin's entire body.
"Who will drink?" the King asked, a testing smirk on his lips.
Xuxin simply dropped from Jóson's shoulder, walking toward the goblet that towered over his head. Amidst the giants' scornful gazes, he lifted the cup and drank...
"Haha! Tiny human, so arrogant...!!" Útgarða-Loki's laughter was brutally cut short when Xuxin slammed the cup down. Empty. The massive quantity of liquid had vanished into that small body in an instant.
"Incredible... Did you drink an ocean?" The Giant King exclaimed in genuine astonishment.
Xuxin met his gaze. "If the ocean flows back into the ocean... it means nothing."
Útgarða-Loki's amused smile soured into wary caution. "Not a bad drinker... Now, let's test your strength. Can you lift my little cat above your head?"
As he spoke, a monstrous cat with thick, soft grey fur walked out and crouched. To Xuxin, its body was the size of a small hill.
Xuxin walked straight toward the giant cat, his body vanishing into the dense grey fur... A heartbeat later, the cat's colossal body floated clear of the ground! Startled, the beast shook itself free and fled.
A roar of utter amazement echoed through the hall. Every giant stared at the human, disbelief etching their faces.
"What is this madness! Are you strong enough to bear the weight of the world?" Útgarða-Loki asked, his voice now ragged, for he knew the cat was an illusion of the World itself.
"If one stands on one's head, using hands as feet, is the World not then also above one's head?"
Xuxin's strange answer defied conventional logic. Útgarða-Loki stared at the man with profound intensity. The King's power of illusion could not hold sway over him; it was as if this human existed above all rules, comprehending the true essence of both reality and deception.
"Shall our celebration begin now?" Xuxin asked, turning the challenge back.
Útgarða-Loki swallowed hard. "Not yet. Try fighting this old servant of mine."
"My opponent should be you. But if you send an old woman, let my disciple... fight her for a round."
At Xuxin's command, Jóson, the colossal Frost Giant, stepped forward without question.
Útgarða-Loki smiled faintly, confidence returning, and waved his hand. From the shadows, an Old Woman appeared. Her stature matched Jóson's, and though clad in old sackcloth, with white hair and skin like tree bark, she bore a strange, subtle resemblance to Jóson himself.
"Her name is Elli. She is my most loyal servant," Útgarða-Loki introduced her, his cold smile widening.
Jóson did not wait. He lunged forward and seized Elli's massive body.
Boom!
Jóson slammed Elli onto the stone floor with all his might. Yet, the instant her body struck, instead of the sound of impact, Elli's form shattered and instantly vanished.
Panic seized the remaining giants. Their eyes filled with terror, and some quietly fled the castle. Their King, it seemed, was facing utter defeat.
Útgarða-Loki himself sprang from his throne. His face was a mask of shock; the arrogant smile was wiped away, replaced by deep, uncontrollable trembling.
"This... is impossible!" Útgarða-Loki's voice was distorted and unstable, filled with genuine fear. "No living being can defeat Old Age! Not even the Gods of Asgard!"
"Correct. No living being can defeat Old Age," Xuxin said, his voice as frigid as the hall. "However... what if that thing is not a living being?"
A simple statement, yet laced with profound meaning. Xuxin knew that while Jóson looked like a living creature, his disciple was not alive. Since he was not a living being, he had no old age.
"Since you have risen from your throne," Xuxin said, walking toward the King. "Let's have a bout, shall we?"
"Insolent! You—" Before he could finish, Xuxin's right hand, encased in the metal gauntlet, seized Útgarða-Loki's left pant leg.
The massive body of Útgarða-Loki was swung in a violent circle.
The faster he was spun, the smaller Útgarða-Loki seemed to shrink. When Xuxin finally stopped, the King of Giants was smaller than Xuxin himself.
As Xuxin released his grip, Útgarða-Loki's shrunken body flew back, smashing into the great throne and shattering it.
Where the hall once roared with the laughter of giants, it now echoed with screams of terror. They fled the castle in chaos, never having conceived that their King of Illusions would suffer such a humiliating defeat.
Útgarða-Loki, dazed, struggled to pull himself up. Everything around him now seemed colossal. The objects hadn't changed; he alone had shrunk.
The King of Illusions swept his gaze across the empty hall. Defeated and utterly alone. He trembled to his core—not from the cold, but from a fear that pierced his soul.
Staring up at Xuxin, Útgarða-Loki asked with a shaking voice, "Who are you?"
Xuxin locked eyes with him and said, "I am the nightmare of the Doom Star."
The answer left Útgarða-Loki stunned with confusion.
"If you are the Doom... I am the one who has come to eliminate you," Xuxin continued, his voice heavy and cold.
"I don't understand! What is the Doom Star!?"
"The Doom Star can be anything," Xuxin replied, sweeping his gaze around the giant as if looking through him. "Sometimes it is a demon, sometimes a god, or it could be any creature."
Xuxin turned back to meet Útgarða-Loki's terrified eyes. "But every time... there are always two things in common."
Útgarða-Loki was becoming more confused with every word, yet Xuxin continued.
"One—it will be an entity of immense strength, such that wherever it goes, no one can resist it. And finally—it must destroy everything that stands in its path."
"Then, perhaps I am not the Doom Star?" Útgarða-Loki grasped at the chance for survival.
Xuxin's metal gauntlet shot out, clamping around Útgarða-Loki's neck, pulling the diminutive giant close. "You aren't!?"
"I am merely the King of Jötunheimr! There are many in this universe far greater than I!"
"..." Xuxin seemed to consider the words intently.
"The King of Asgard is far greater! The Great God Baldur fits the description of the Doom Star far more than I ever could! Why do you not go and eliminate him?"
"Is there truly someone stronger than you in this universe?"
"Yes... Yes!" Útgarða-Loki choked out the words, terrified by the crushing grip. "I am but a fragment of illusion! How could I be the Doom Star you seek?"
"Agreed," Xuxin replied slowly, his void-black eyes fixed on the giant's fear. "I will go seek Baldur as you say."
A smile of profound relief appeared on Útgarða-Loki's face. Though his neck was held fast, he managed to gasp a grateful breath.
"Go! Hurry up and go!" Útgarða-Loki urged.
"I will hurry," Xuxin said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "After I have eliminated you."
As the sentence ended, the light in Útgarða-Loki's eyes vanished. Xuxin tightened his grip on the Giant King's neck and twisted his wrist once more.
Snap!
The sound of breaking bone echoed through the empty hall. Útgarða-Loki's body instantly disintegrated into black dust.
The legend of the King of Illusions, told for generations... ended right there.
Xuxin stood amidst the vast snowscape. The towering castle had vanished along with the King of Illusions. Jóson knelt, placing his hand flat against the snowy ground so his master could step onto his palm and regain his perch.
The two turned back, walking the way they had come, leaving Jötunheimr. Their next destination: Asgard, to meet the Great God Baldur... who might, perhaps, be the Doom Star.