The hub of the Bifrost Bridge—this was the most central and mysterious place in all of Asgard.
Unlike the Golden Palace halls built for ostentation, everything here was designed for utility—god-level utility, of course.
The massive dome was crafted from an unknown translucent metal, devoid of flowery reliefs or murals, featuring only countless slowly flowing golden energy circuits.
They were like veins, transporting vast divine power into this enormous hemispherical space.
The ground beneath one’s feet was not static either.
Giant bronze gears meshed and turned slowly, emitting a low, powerful rumble.
It wasn’t ear-piercing; rather, it sounded like the breathing of a giant beast in slumber, carrying a heart-pounding sense of pressure.
Standing here truly felt like standing at the edge of the universe.
There were no walls to block the view; walking just two steps toward the edge allowed one to see the vast, boundless sea of stars.
Countless nebulae swirled in the distance, and newborn stars burst with blinding light in the darkness.
“Hey!
Ha!
Take this!” A childish yet vibrant voice broke the tranquility of the place.
Heimdall, the guardian said to see through all illusions in the Nine Realms—whose eyes not even an ant’s sneeze could escape—was currently facing the greatest challenge of his career.
It wasn’t an invasion by Frost Giant, nor a sneak attack by Fire Giants.
It was a little pudgy kid climbing up and down his thigh.
Thor brandished a broken branch he’d picked up from the road, treating it like some peerless divine weapon.
“Uncle Heimdall!
Look at my ‘Thunder Strike’!
How is it!” Thor shouted as he slammed the branch hard against Heimdall’s shimmering golden greaves.
Clang!
A crisp sound rang out.
Though an attack of this level didn’t even count as an itch to Heimdall, this little guy was simply too much to handle.
Heimdall’s face, which usually maintained a majestic and even somewhat fierce expression, was now wrinkled like a bitter melon.
His eyes, flashing with golden light, looked helplessly at Thor, who was clinging to his leg and wouldn’t let go.
Usually, he held the massive Guardians Sword, ‘Hofund,’ which could sever the light flow of the Bifrost Bridge with a gentle swing; but now, he could only leave the sword on the control console.
In case he accidentally bumped this future ‘hope’ of Asgard, His Majesty Odin would surely have his head.
“Prince Thor…
please…
please come down first, alright?” Heimdall’s voice was filled with the exhaustion of someone who could do nothing about a bratty child.
“There are high-voltage energy flows everywhere; it’s dangerous.
If you fall into the transport stream…” “I’m not afraid!” Thor didn’t listen at all, instead hugging Heimdall’s thigh even tighter and rubbing the sweat from his face onto it.
“I’m the Thor!
The future one!
I’m very strong!” On the other side, Loki had his hands behind his back, wandering around the edge of the hub hall like a little old man.
He had no interest in Heimdall’s thigh; he was interested in the flowing runes on the walls.
He extended a slender finger and cautiously poked one of the glowing symbols.
The speck of light scattered instantly like a startled firefly, then drew beautiful arcs in the air, recombining into a new shape.
“Hehe.” Loki let out a low chuckle, his green eyes flashing with the excited light of someone who had discovered a new toy.
Sif stood obediently to the side, clutching her skirt with both hands, looking around with a mix of nervousness and curiosity.
Her gaze constantly followed the figure wandering in front of the control console.
Arthas did not participate in the chaos Thor was causing.
From the first second he entered, his attention had been captured by the object right in the center.
It was a massive control console.
It wasn’t made of metal, but carved from a single piece of deep-sea crystal.
The interior of the crystal seemed to seal a starry sky, with countless tiny specks of light slowly swimming inside.
In the central groove of that console sat a greatsword, ancient in design yet radiating a terrifying aura.
That was the key to the Bifrost Bridge and the switch to activate the entire transport system.
Arthas leaned in very close, almost pressing his entire face against the cold crystal surface.
His beautiful amber eyes were wide, staring unblinkingly at the flowing lights.
He could feel a strange rhythm.
The feeling was familiar, like the majestic aura he felt from his father whenever he was near him.
But this aura seemed even more…
active?
Arthas quietly turned his head like a sneaky kitten, glancing at the battle over there out of the corner of his eye.
Heimdall was bent over, one hand grabbing Thor’s back collar, trying to peel the little barnacle off his leg.
Thor was still kicking and shouting, drawing all of Heimdall’s attention.
It really was the perfect timing.
Arthas chuckled inwardly.
Although his father strictly forbade them from approaching this console, saying it was a divine artifact only the Guardian could touch…
He was just so curious.
Just one touch.
Really, just a gentle touch.
Even if it was just to feel that cool sensation.
Besides, he wasn’t a Guardian; surely there wouldn’t be any reaction.
Arthas found himself a perfect excuse.
Once such a thought sprouted, it was like spring weeds—impossible to suppress.
Arthas looked at his fair, tender little hand, then at the sword hilt shimmering with an enticing luster.
He swallowed, stood slightly on his tiptoes, and held his breath.
He slowly extended his right hand.
The movement was light and careful, as if trying to touch a butterfly sleeping on a petal.
His fingertips drew closer and closer to the cold crystal.
An inch.
Half an inch.
A fraction.
Finally, his soft finger pad gently touched the edge of the control console.
At the very moment of contact.
Without any warning or transition.
An extremely domineering and scorching power—as if a volcano that had been lurking in the deepest part of his body—was completely detonated by the faint current from the crystal.
Buzz—!!
A low rumble that made the soul tremble instantly echoed through the entire hub hall.
That wasn’t the sound of a machine starting, but a roar of divine power resonance.
Arthas’s small body jerked violently.
He looked down at his hand in surprise.
That originally ordinary little hand was now like a small exploding sun, radiating a golden light so blinding one couldn’t look directly at it.
The light was so intense it even eclipsed the brilliance of the star sea outside, illuminating the entire hemispherical hall like a golden ocean.
The Guardians Sword, which had been motionless in the groove and could only be pulled out by Heimdall, now began to tremble violently, emitting crisp clinking sounds.
Countless complex golden runes, like some living vines, spread frantically from Arthas’s arm.
They crawled along the console onto the sword blade, then diffused along the blade to the gears beneath his feet, and finally surged into the rainbow river of light.
That was the source divine power belonging to Odin.
The symbol of Asgard’s highest authority.
To the Bifrost Bridge system, which recognized only energy and not people, this pure-to-the-extreme All-Father Power was the irresistible highest command.
Rumble—!!
The massive gears beneath his feet began to spin crazily, their speed instantly soaring to the limit, even creating blinding sparks from the friction.
The originally slowly flowing rainbow river of light became incredibly violent in an instant, turning into a rapidly spinning giant vortex.
“No—!!” Over there, Heimdall, who was still tangled with Thor, snapped his head up.
His golden eyes instantly caught the anomaly here.
When he saw Arthas completely enveloped in golden light, his figure already somewhat blurred, and the Bifrost Bridge losing control and even operating under overload, that dark face instantly turned pale, even his lips losing their color.
“Prince Arthas!!” Heimdall let out a heart-wrenching roar.
He didn’t care about etiquette anymore, directly tossing Thor, who was hanging onto his leg, aside like a sandbag.
Thor rolled twice on the ground and landed on his butt, completely dazed.
Heimdall took large strides, like a rampaging bull, charging toward the control console.
His speed was at its limit, even pulling an afterimage behind him.
But he was still a step too late.
The golden vortex of divine power had completely formed.
Arthas only felt his vision blur; all the surrounding scenery began to distort and stretch, turning into countless colored lines.
Heimdall’s large face filled with anxiety and terror, Thor’s silly look as he sat on the ground with his mouth wide open, Sif’s expression as she covered her mouth about to cry…
everything became blurred in that instant, then rapidly receded.
A massive suction came from beneath his feet, like an invisible hand grabbing his ankle.
There was no room for resistance, not even enough time to cry out an ‘Ouch.’ Whoosh—!!
A golden pillar of light, thicker and more brilliant than any before, shot up into the sky.
It didn’t aim at a specific coordinate as usual, but directly pierced through the firmament of the God Realm, vanishing into the depths of the vast universe with an unstoppable momentum.
When the light dissipated, there was no one left in front of the control console.
The entire hub hall fell into a deathly silence.
Only the rainbow light pillar still slowly rotating under inertia and the residual scorching divine power aura in the air proved that what had just happened was not an illusion.
Heimdall remained in a reaching posture, frozen in place like a statue.
His fingertips were only a tiny bit away from where Arthas had just been standing.
If he had been even a thousandth of a second faster, he could have grabbed the child’s clothes.
But there are no ‘ifs’ in this world.
Thor sat on the ground, the branch in his hand dropped to the side, his mouth wide open, unable to close it for a long time.
Loki was no longer playing with the runes; he stood against the wall, green eyes wide, his expression showing a child’s true panic and fear for the first time.
Sif collapsed directly onto the ground and burst into tears with a ‘wah.’ Boom!!!
Just as everyone was still dazed, a pressure even more terrifying than before descended from the sky.
A golden bolt of lightning tore through space, striking heavily at the entrance of the Bifrost Bridge.
A violent airwave instantly swept across the platform, forcing Heimdall to raise his hand to shield himself.
In that blinding thunderlight, a tall figure appeared.
It was Odin.
At this moment, the King of Gods had none of his usual calm and composed demeanor from the Golden Palace.
His robes flapped loudly in the wind, and even his beard was somewhat messy.
He tightly gripped ‘gungnir,’ the Eternal Spear that symbolized supreme power, with heart-pounding electrical arcs still dancing on its tip.
His chest heaved violently, a sign of extreme anxiety and anger.
Odin strode over with long steps.
Every step he took on the ground made a dull, loud thud, as if the entire Bifrost Bridge was trembling under his fury.
“What happened!!” Odin’s voice was low and suppressed, like a volcano about to erupt, exploding in everyone’s ears.
He walked up to Heimdall, his single eye flashing with a light that was almost physical—the majesty of a God King and the anxiety of a father.
“My divine power connection…
just now, it suddenly snapped!” “Where is Arthas?
Where is he?!” Odin looked around, seeing only three terrified children, missing the small figure he cared about most.
“Why did the Bifrost Bridge activate on its own?
What on earth is going on!!” Heimdall dropped to one knee with a thud, his knee slamming heavily against the metal floor.
Cold sweat slid down from his forehead, dripping onto the ground and shattering into pieces.
“Your Majesty…” Heimdall’s voice was dry and hoarse, even carrying a hint of a tremble.
“It is my dereliction of duty.” “Just now…
Prince Arthas touched the control console out of curiosity.” Heimdall looked up, his eyes still carrying that lingering shock and disbelief.
“At that very moment, an extremely powerful divine power suddenly erupted from within the Prince.
That power…
it was the same All-Father Power as yours.” “That power was too strong; it directly bypassed the Guardians Sword’s authority and forcibly activated the Bifrost Bridge’s transport system.” “Because it happened so suddenly, and it was a completely non-directional random transport…
I…
I simply couldn’t stop it in time.” Hearing the words ‘divine power eruption,’ Odin’s pupils, which had been wide with anger, suddenly contracted.
His fingers gripping the spear tightened instantly, his knuckles turning white, even making the indestructible spear shaft let out a faint groan.
That child…
is only seven years old.
Awakening divine power at seven, and powerful enough to bypass the Guardians Sword and forcibly start the Bifrost Bridge?
What kind of talent was this?
Even Odin himself couldn’t have achieved such a feat at that age.
A name long sealed away and deliberately forgotten by Odin suddenly flashed through his mind—Hela.
The eldest daughter known as the Goddess of Death.
She had been the same back then; although she didn’t awaken at Arthas’s age, her divine power grew so fast it was terrifying—so fast that even reason couldn’t keep up, eventually leading to that tragedy.
This child, Arthas…
could he also…?” No.
Odin shook his head violently, casting that terrifying thought from his mind.
Now was not the time for such things.
That secret, everything regarding Hela, must remain buried forever.
What mattered most now was that his son was missing.
The child who carried his promise to Aphrodite, the child he had sworn to protect, was gone.
Odin took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the stormy emotions within him.
He looked at Heimdall kneeling on the ground; though fury burned in his heart, he knew this couldn’t be entirely blamed on the loyal guardian.
Who could have imagined a seven-year-old child possessing such power?
“Rise.” Odin waved his hand, his voice regaining a hint of forced composure.
“This is not your fault.
With a divine power resonance of that magnitude, even if you were right beside him…
you might not have been able to stop it.” “Now is not the time for assigning blame.” Odin turned abruptly, pointing toward the vast starry sky, his single eye like a sharp sword piercing the heavens.
“Quickly!
Use your eyes!
Scour every inch of the Nine Realms for me!” “Whether it be the ice caves of Jotunheim or the volcanic craters of Muspelheim, do not overlook even the corners of Helheim!” “You must find where he is!!” “Yes!
Your Majesty!!” Heimdall, as if granted a great reprieve, immediately sprang up from the ground.
He gripped the Guardians Sword with both hands, and his golden eyes instantly erupted with two beams of light that seemed almost physical.
His vision pierced through the void, crossing distances of countless light-years.
He was watching.
He was searching frantically.
His gaze was like the most precise radar, sweeping through every corner of the Nine Realms, searching for that familiar, youthful aura of divine power.
Minutes and seconds ticked by.
The hub hall was terrifyingly quiet, leaving only the sound of Heimdall’s heavy breathing due to the overexertion of his abilities.
Odin paced back and forth on the platform with his hands behind his back.
The sound of his boots clicking against the metal floor felt like rhythmic strikes against everyone’s hearts.
His brow was furrowed, and his expression grew increasingly grim, like an approaching storm.
The three little ones had regained some of their senses by now, picking themselves up from the ground and huddling together in a corner.
None dared to speak, only watching with wide eyes the golden silhouette standing before the console, radiating a heavy, low-pressure atmosphere.
Ten minutes passed.
Twenty minutes passed.
Heimdall’s back, once as straight as a pine tree, began to tremble slightly.
Sweat poured down his forehead, and his face grew increasingly pale.
Maintaining such a high-intensity, all-seeing vision across the Nine Realms for so long was a massive drain, even overdrawing his life force.
Finally, the sword in Heimdall’s hand slumped weakly, and the golden light in his eyes dimmed.
He turned around to face Odin, his lips somewhat pale, his eyes filled with pain and self-reproach.
“Your…
Your Majesty.” Heimdall’s voice trembled, carrying a hint of despair.
“I cannot see him.” “What?!” Odin stopped abruptly, turning to stare dead at him, his voice suddenly rising.
“You cannot see him?!
How is that possible!
Your eyes can see through all things!
Nothing within the Nine Realms can escape your gaze!” Heimdall shook his head, his face full of bitterness.
“I have searched every corner of the Nine Realms.
There is no trace of Prince Arthas.” “There isn’t even a residual scent of that divine power.” “There are only two possibilities.” Heimdall swallowed hard, his voice low as if talking to himself.
“Either the Prince has fallen into an extremely powerful ancient magical barrier that can block even my sight…” “Or…” He paused, not quite daring to meet Odin’s eyes.
“The Prince has been transported to a place beyond the Nine Realms.
To that unknown domain that even I cannot peer into.” Odin fell silent.
The light in his single eye dimmed, replaced by a deep flicker of worry.
If it were the former, it meant Arthas might have encountered an extremely powerful being or was trapped.
If it were the latter…
that would be even more troublesome.
Beyond the Nine Realms lay the endless multiverse, a place filled with unknown dangers and chaos.
For a seven-year-old child to be cast adrift there, even with divine power protecting him, it would be a near-certain death sentence.
“Damn it…” Odin cursed under his breath, his fist slamming heavily onto the edge of the console.
He closed his eyes, trying to force himself to stay calm.
Panic wouldn’t solve anything.
That child carried his oath and Aphrodite’s trust; nothing could be allowed to happen to him.
Just then, a small hand gently tugged at the hem of Odin’s robe.
The pull was very light, very timid.
Odin looked down and saw a teary-eyed Thor.
The little tubby boy had long since lost his earlier lawless energy; he was crying so hard that snot and tears had turned his originally cute face into a mess.
“Father…” Thor sobbed, his voice thick with weeping.
“Is Brother Arthas…
is he…
never coming back?” Behind him, Sif was also silently wiping away tears, her shoulders shaking.
Though Loki wasn’t crying, his small face was tense, his hands gripping the hem of his clothes tightly, his eyes filled with fear and unease.
Looking at these three terrified children, the softest part of Odin’s heart was touched.
Indeed, he could not fall into chaos.
He was the All-Father, the one these children relied on.
If even he despaired, what would the children do?
Odin knelt down, his originally cold and hard features softening.
He reached out with his large, calloused hands to wipe the tears and snot from Thor’s face, then patted Loki and Sif on their heads.
“Nonsense.” Odin intentionally put on a stern face, speaking in an extremely confident, almost arrogant tone.
“Who am I?
I am Odin, All-Father!
There is no place in this world that I cannot find!” “Your brother is just lost, just like when you play hide-and-seek; he’s just hidden in a place that’s a bit further away.” He patted Thor’s shoulder, his gaze incredibly firm.
“Don’t worry, I am here.
I will definitely bring him back.
Even if I have to scour the entire universe, I will find him and bring him back for a spanking.” Hearing their father’s resolute assurance, the three little ones’ hanging hearts finally settled a bit.
Though the tears hadn’t stopped, at least the despair in their eyes had vanished.
Meanwhile, in another part of the Space-time Turbulence.
Arthas was not encountering any terrifying danger as Odin feared, at least not yet.
He was in a wondrous state.
His surroundings were a scene of extreme brilliance.
Countless stars receded rapidly around him, stretched into long, thin ribbons of light, like a grand meteor shower.
Rainbow-colored energy, like a giant conduit, enveloped him as he traveled at high speed.
He didn’t feel dizzy, nor did he feel any tearing pain.
After the divine power originating from Odin awakened within him, it automatically formed a thin golden film, protecting him firmly in the center like an eggshell.
Even the violent Space-time Turbulence became docile before this layer of golden light.
Arthas widened his eyes, watching it all with curiosity.
For a seven-year-old child, this was ten thousand times more fun than even the most exciting roller coaster in Asgard.
He wasn’t afraid.
He was even a little excited.
Is this the space travel Father talked about?
I wonder where this light will take me?
Will it be a world full of candy?
Or a world with lots and lots of dragons?
Before his little head could come up with any answers, the light ahead suddenly became blinding.
The weightlessness of rapid flight vanished instantly, replaced by the heavy sensation of solid ground.
With a thud…
Arthas felt as if he had been gently spat out by something, and then he landed on his bottom on a patch of soft grass.
It didn’t hurt; the grass here was even thicker than that in the Golden Palace’s gardens.
He shook his slightly dizzy little head, subconsciously reaching out to rub his bottom, and then slowly climbed up from the ground.
The scene before him left him stunned.
This was definitely not Asgard.
Asgard’s sky was always golden, but the sky here was a pure, intoxicating azure.
A few fluffy white clouds drifted lazily, and the sunlight was so bright it was almost piercing.
In the distance was a range of rolling mountains, their peaks covered in pristine white snow that sparkled under the sun.
The air was filled with the distinct saltiness of the sea and the fragrance of unknown flowers and herbs.
This scent made him feel exceptionally comfortable, even fresher than the air in the Golden Palace’s gardens.
Arthas turned around and found himself standing on the edge of a cliff covered in flowers.
Beneath his feet was lush green grass, with wildflowers of all colors swaying in the wind—red, yellow, purple—like an overturned palette of paint.
And below the cliff was a sea as blue as a sapphire.
White waves tirelessly lapped against the golden sand, making a rhythmic shua-shua sound.
Not far away, there was also a dense primeval forest, the trees tall, straight, and lush.
Further off, one could faintly see some white buildings with a unique architectural style, featuring soaring marble pillars and exquisite carvings, exuding an ancient and sacred aura.
“Wow…” Arthas couldn’t help but open his mouth wide in a gasp of wonder.
“So pretty…” This place looked exactly like the setting of the bedtime stories Mother Frigga used to tell him.
However, before he could fully grasp the situation or even take his first step to explore this new world…
An extremely faint sound of something cutting through the air suddenly rang out.
There was no killing intent, but the sharp aura was impossible to ignore.
A figure leaped out from the shadows of the nearby trees without warning, landing lightly yet powerfully before him with a bang.
It was a woman.
A woman who made Arthas forget to breathe with just one look.
She wasn’t wearing an elaborate gown, but rather a set of leather armor that looked simple, even a bit rough.
The brown leather tightly hugged her impressive curves, revealing a pair of excessively long legs and two smooth arms.
On her feet were lace-up sandals, and the muscle lines on her calves were smooth and powerful.
Her skin wasn’t the ivory white of Mother Frigga, but a very healthy, fair complexion with a hint of rosy glow; under the sunlight, one could even see fine peach fuzz.
A head of thick, wavy black hair draped casually over her shoulders, fluttering in the wind with a sense of wild beauty.
That face…
Arthas felt his meager vocabulary was simply insufficient to describe it.
There was a heroic air between her brows, a high-bridged nose, and rosy lips.
Especially those deep sea-blue eyes, which were currently narrowed slightly, sizing him up with a hint of caution.
This was absolutely the most beautiful woman he had seen in his life (though it had only been seven years).
Even the goddesses of Asgard seemed to be missing something in front of her.
That beauty, so full of vitality, was simply impossible to look away from.
At this moment, the woman was holding a seemingly ordinary iron sword, its tip pointing diagonally at the ground, only a few steps away from Arthas.
She didn’t attack immediately, obviously because she saw the opponent was just a non-threatening child.
On this island that had been sealed by magic for thousands of years, no outsider had ever set foot, let alone a man…
well, even if it was just a boy.
Her eyes were full of confusion.
“Human…” The woman’s voice was low and resonant, as pleasant as the strings of a cello.
She paused, seemingly feeling that calling this strangely dressed little thing “human” wasn’t quite accurate.
“Er, human cub.” She took half a step forward, her powerful presence washing over him.
“Tell me, how did you pass through the magical barrier to get here?” Arthas didn’t hear a word she asked.
His brain had stalled the moment he saw this woman.
At this very moment, there was no logic or thought in his little head, only an instinctive impulse.
He blinked his large amber eyes and, in an extremely soft, sincere, and even slightly aggrieved voice, called out the name that instantly petrified everyone present: “Mama.” The wind stopped.
The sound of the waves seemed to quiet down.
The female warrior, who had been serious and ready for a routine interrogation, saw her expression freeze instantly on her face.
The hand holding her sword couldn’t help but tremble, and she nearly dropped it.
Her beautiful blue eyes went wide and round, her mouth slightly agape in utter disbelief.
“Huh?” A giant question mark seemed to materialize above her head.
What was the situation?
It was one thing for the intruder to be a child.
But what kind of move was it to recognize her as his mother the moment they met?
In thousands of years, she hadn’t even had a boyfriend, let alone seen a man; where would such a big son come from?
And this child…
why did he look so certain about it?