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Knights of the Divine Table - [Chapter 3]
▲ 11 r/RecordOfOurRagnarok+1 crossposts

Knights of the Divine Table - [Chapter 3]

An angel’s agony

The once green grass is stained red with blood covering every inch. The mangled corpses of angels strewn out across the battlefield, limbs bent beyond normal limits, wings removed from their backs. Amongst them all a single writhing creature stares up at the angel, the greatest threat to the heavens, the serpent of heaven, Satan. Its head stretches up as it lets out a bellowing screech that rings out across all of the heavens, the surviving angels around the archangel having to cover their ears. Michael looks down at the serpent and grips her sword with all the strength in her body, both her hand and the hilt drenched in her blood. She takes a deep breath as her gaze locks with Satan’s. Both suddenly charge through the air at each other, wings beating hard and the air booming around them. Satan’s mouth opens wide as Michael raises her sword high, the blade glowing as she does. The two close in and the serpent’s fangs are inches away from her body when…

Michael’s eyes shot open as she stared up at the ceiling of her room, a cold sweat over her body as she laid in her bed. She placed her hand on her forehead and felt the dampness as she sat up, a thousand yard stare on her face, her breath heavy. “That dream again,” she quietly mumbles, pinching the bridge of her nose, “how long must it haunt me?”

Michael forced herself out of bed and splashed some cold water in her face before collecting her sword and leaving the room without another word. Silently, Michael walked to a training room and gripped her sword with a strength that would threaten to break any other weapon.

An hour later, a lone figure dressed in a long black dress that flows behind her walked into the doorway and saw the archangel standing before a set of training dummies, the sacks torn to shreds and the stuffing covering the ground. Michael weakly raised her sword to strike again and went to swing down on the dummy, but was stopped by the visitor grabbing her wrist. “Michael, stop before you harm yourself.” Michael’s grip on the sword loosens and it slips out of her grip, clattering down to the ground. “The same dream again?”

Michael weakly turned to face the visitor, their face faintly shaded by the black veil she wore though Michael can still see the concern in her face. “I can’t be that weak again, Azrael. I just can’t,” Michael says, her eyes filled with a pleading exhaustion.

“Another war isn’t going to happen. You don’t have to fear losing so many to a horrific event like that again. You can rest Michael, the weight of responsibility of being ‘the guardian of heaven’ doesn’t have to haunt you every day.” Azrael’s gloved hand moved from Michael’s wrist and to her shoulder, the exhausted angel’s body dropping limp and into Azrael who catches her before she drops to the ground. “And even if the heavens lose their stability, the angels’ strength has grown, we shall be able to fend for ourselves.”

“It’s not just the title that hangs over me. I don’t want anyone to die again. I don’t want you to die, Azrael.” Michael was unable to look up at Azrael, her head hung low so the angel of death brought her to the wall where they both sat to continue talking. “How did you even find me here?”

“You weren’t in bed this morning so I feared you had that dream again. Knowing that you always come here whenever you remember the war, I came here and found that my fears were correct.” Azrael pulled out a glass bottle of water from her hip and handed it to Michael. “Here, I knew you’d need something to help you recover.”

“You know me too well.” Michael took the bottle and started to drink, the cold water inside being more refreshing than she expected. She drank half of it in a single breath before passing the bottle back to Azrael who drank a mouthful before putting it down. “If you don’t mind me asking Azrael, how do you do it? Your whole life is surrounded by death. You have to watch as humans lose those they care about and you’re responsible for it all. So how, how do you deal with that?”

Azrael stayed silent a bit as she looked up at the ceiling. “It’s tough to say. Our two roles carry very different weights on our shoulders. Yours is to save lives while mine is to take them, though that isn’t to say my role makes it any easier,” explained Azrael before looking back at Michael. “Seeing the faces on the loved ones of the mortal I must bring the ultimate end to will always be painful, especially for those that were young. No amount of exposure makes it any easier but no matter the pain, I have to perform my role or else humanity will suffer. To me, bringing the final breath to any mortal is a mercy as without it they will continue to suffer. The elderly will become too frail to move, the terminally ill will continue to feel pain forever. If I could let humans live forever without suffering I would, but as they are now that world won’t be here for millenia. Obviously it may not apply the same to you, but it’s what gets me through my duties.”

Michael reached for the water and took another gulp of water. “I see. Thank you Azrael. I’ll try to relax and see if that helps with the memories but I want you to know that even if I won’t train in fear of a future war, I want to keep up my strength to be able to protect those I hold close.”

Azrael softly let out a light chuckle at Michael’s seriousness. “I wouldn’t expect anything else from you Michael.” She stood up and helped Michael back to her feet and handed the angel her sword. “I doubt you’ll need to protect me in the future, I’d be a sorry excuse for an archangel if I couldn’t protect myself.”

Michael took the sword out of Azrael’s hand and looked at her with a weak smile before the veiled angel left her alone in the training room. “Maybe, but no matter how long it is, I can never shake those fears from my head.”

Decades passed and Michael’s fears slowly began to subside though that nagging fear of losing everyone close to her never left her. To avoid becoming rusty, Michael continued to practice her swordsmanship, occasionally duelling Azrael when the angel wasn’t busy with her duties. Peace remained in the heavens all throughout that time while humanity continued to develop down on earth. Discussion on what to do with humanity started to pop up amongst the gods though most were fine with humanity surviving, Azrael one of the larger voices on the side of humanity staying.

Even more decades passed until that one day Michael feared arrived. She stood alone in her training room, the lights dimmed. A single messenger walked in and said a single sentence. “Lady Michael, Azrael has died.”

Michael stood there in a stunned silence, too many words getting caught in the knot in her throat, silent tears ran down her face. The messenger left the angel alone before she dropped to her knees. “Azrael… I couldn’t protect you. I’m… sorry, I’m so so sorry. Forgive me please… I couldn’t fulfil my duty.”

She grabbed hold of her sword and both memories of the war in heaven and memories of Azrael handing her the sword flashed in her mind. She gritted her teeth and gripped both the handle and the blade with all the force she could, the blade cutting into her palm and drew blood. She stood up and faced the training dummies around her, her vision blurred with tears. “Azrael… I…” Michael fell silent again as she tried to stay steady on her feet before letting all the pain in her chest out in one bloodcurdling scream. “AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Hundreds of thousands of times Michael’s blade cut through the dummies, her mind unable to leave the visions that plague her mind. She cried out for forgiveness amongst her cries of pain, her body begging for her to stop. Over and over again, Michael struck the training dummies until her body eventually gave out, collapsing to the ground despite her mind crying to let out all her mixed emotions of the dummies. She tried to claw at the ground to continue to shred the dummies, but her body was completely exhausted and soon her exhaustion caught up to her and she passed out on the ground, surrounded by the destruction of her grief.

When the angel awoke, she felt completely empty, the death of Azrael leaving a void within the guardian of the heavens. “I failed her. I let her die. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I failed in my duty. I’m so sorry Azrael, I never meant to fail you. Please Azrael, forgive me. Forgive me for my failure. I never meant to let you die.” Michael remained on the floor, crying, begging for things to be different and forgiveness. It was on that floor that Michael shifted from the caring guardian of those close to her, to the strongest soldier under Gabriel, the cold, unfeeling general that would never fail a duty again no matter what was asked of her. But behind the empty void within her, the memories of her past remained, a permanent scar within the angel.

Valhalla arena

Michael looks down at the beast below, visions of the great serpent overlapping her vision. Her sword nearly slips out of her hand as every muscle in her body screams for her to flee, but nothing in her body acts the way she wants as she hovers in the air above the monster below. Then, the vision of her greatest enemy shatters and an even greater monster pulls her into the present.

Michael’s eyes turn wide at the sight before her, the frame of the man, no, of the beast before her in an instant, letting out a war cry close to a howling dog. Those sharp eyes that pierced her before are now filled with wild fire. The gigantic spear is raised high above the vanguard as Cu Chulainn brings his jaws down upon her.

A thunderous blow rings across the arena, the audience only seeing a cloud of dust after Cu’s leap into the air. The dust settles down, the body of a bloody and beaten archangel laying in a crater as the demi god begins to descend down, the angel unmoving aside from her racing breaths.

Cu points his spear downward before throwing it while mid air, Michael who managed to block the previous blow notices the spear coming down through her blurry vision, dodging to the side as it stabs into the ground. Her wings move once more before the human attempts to crush her beneath him. The champion of mankind doesn’t move his gaze away from her, yanking Gae Bolg out of the earth and rushing towards the angel.

Swing, swing and swing, wild movements that leave no opening, they shatter the ground around combatants with each miss. Michael does everything in her power to parry each swing though her swordsmanship has turned sloppy compared to before, Cu pushing forward with each one. A wild hound relentlessly hunting his prey.

Through the wild storm of attacks, Michael’s guard continues to slip more and more, the spear cutting through her skin and her once white dress is now  pure red, the silver wings slick with blood. Cu shifts his stance and the muscles in his body all flex and grow, the cape he wears breaking loose from his body and drifting to the floor.

Not a moment later, the angel feels a deep impact at her side, an impact as if a massive log just smashed into her. With a loud roar, the human sends her flying into the wall, Michael's body bouncing off of it. Her sleeve was torn to shreds, forearm left broken and rotated beyond its joints. She cries out in pain as she drops to her knees, the crowd watching in horror as heaven’s strongest angel is treated as nothing more than a dog’s chew toy.

And yet he did not stop, Cu running at her with Gae Bolg pointed right at her, Michael barely managing to move at the last moment as it ran through the wall. Cu’s head snaps immediately at her as he does not pull the spear out, swinging it through the wall as if it wasn’t even there to begin with.

Another beat of her wings gets Michael out of immediate range and into the air once more. The angel hoping for a chance to reset, though the demigod would not let that come to be..

Running across the wall, before jumping off it in a span of less than a second, even in the skies Cu Chuculainn catches up to Michael. Gae Bolg finds its mark once more, catching her in the chest and launching the angel across the arena with an explosive hit that echoed through the colosseum.

Cu landed down on the ground, moving again to his enemy. Across both mankind and the gods, a similar thought runs through their minds.

‘No one, not human or god.’

Each step shatters the ground below him as he closes the distance.

‘With that huge body and that spear, no one should be able to have strength such as that.’

And Gae Bolg moves for another killing blow on the angel. The spear tip pierces the air and Michael stumbles to the side in an attempt to dodge though it’s nowhere near enough to truly dodge as the spear digs into her side and pins her against the wall, her limbs limp as she hangs in the air.

The monster stares at the pinned angel who stares past him, eyes glossy and her lips softly move to whisper the only words she can manage. In her fading view, Michael sees a familiar figure descend from the light to approach her, time stopped in her view. “Azrael… please…”

u/LaniaGren17 — 22 hours ago
▲ 13 r/RecordOfOurRagnarok+1 crossposts

Knights of the Divine Table - [Chapter 2]

The Angel against the Beast

Despite no words being shared, both fighters step forward at the same time with weapons ready. Cu thrusts his spear forward with the speed of a bullet to catch the speeding angel, the tip surging through the empty space and threatening to pierce clean through her torso. With a subtle beat of her wings, Michael juts to the side to dodge, her sword running along the edge of the bone. A high pitched shrill echoes out as she closes in, her sword leaving the bone to seek out the demigod’s flesh.

Compromised, Cu shifts his full body back to duck, the sword aimed at his throat instead cutting through the skin of his upper body. Michael digs her feet into the ground to slow her momentum, turning to attack again as the first drop of blood forms from the shallow cut. She grips her sword with both hands and thrusts it forward faster than her swing, but Cu shifts his body to the side. The blade of the angel grazing his chest as blood bursts out, his spear raised over his head before he brings it down with a mighty swing. However, with yet another beat Michael disappears as Cu hits the ground, shattering it with bits of rock flying all around and dust.

Looking around, all he sees is a white blur flying across the ring, the sound of wings flapping filling his ears as his head moves to track the angel. “...” He holds his spear tightly, his arms and back flexing their muscles as he takes in a deep breath right before turning around with blinding speed, stomping on the ground and unleashing a power thrust at the approaching angel. Michael’s eyes go wide before she brings her sword up to guard, choosing to fly under the spear to continue her approach. Just as she does, an immense pressure comes from above as Cu pushes the spear down to crush her under it. Twisting her body through the air and pushing her blade up, the spear is diverted and crashes down next to her before she bolts forward. Without giving a moment to react, Cu Chulainn swings Gae Bolg upwards as Michael flies by him. Another slash lands on his shoulder at the same time a small cut appears on the Archangel’s side.

“Both fighters are equal.” Metatron speaks, her robotic voices echoing through the arena. “The blinding speed of the Archangel Michael, she becomes impossible to catch. Cu Chulainn responds with unrivaled strength that shakes the arena with every move.”

“Michael…” Raphael grasps his hands tightly.

“Equal?” Gabriel says while tilting his head, fingers intertwined and resting on his knee. “You judge too early Metatron, for Michael is just getting started.”

Cu swings Gae Bolg like a bat as Michael turns to face him, the angle shooting up into the sky like a rocket, her figure disguised by the shining sun above the arena. Cu looks up and squints to spot the angel above him. He shifts his weight low and takes a deep breath. At the same moment, Michael grips her sword with both hands and shoots down at the waiting demigod.

The ground cracks beneath his feet as Cu thrusts his spear up to catch the descending angel who responds with her sword trailing behind her. A single arc of blood flies while the sound of bone scratching metal rings out. Michael lands on the ground before the drops of blood can, a cut down Cu’s chest visible to the audience, a cut in the metal wing pauldrons visible to both fighters.

Like an animal seeing its prey, Cu’s bright eyes see Michael on the ground for a brief moment, his free hand lunging forward at her. But just as he is about to grab her, Michael disappears in a blink. The human’s face finches as another small cut appears on his side. “Tch…”

Grabbing his spear with both hands, he swings it in a downward arc behind him. Another burst of blood on his forearm. Another swing, another cut on Cu’s body. This time it isn’t a swing, but a block, the massive spear stopping the angel’s sword that aims for Cu’s neck.

At burning speed Michael’s sword moves, the sound of metal hitting bone fills the arena as Cu can do nothing but defend. The beat of the angelic wings matches the rhythm of their clashes, Michael flying from one spot to the next as Cu continues to guard himself. Metal cut into the flesh, drawing blood, cut after cut slips past the man’s guard as he sheds blood. Flashes of the angel appear before him, at times it is as if she is in multiple places at once.

“He’s getting diced.” “If this keeps up he’ll…” the crowd murmurs amongst themselves as they watch Cu’s body be littered with cuts, however the demigod would cut them all off as he swaps from defense to offense. Gae Bulg swings up through the air as Michael approaches, the angel being forced to abandon her strike and dodge, shooting to the side and past Cu. His hand shoots out, letting go of his weapon for a second to grab the angel at her ankle. Flexing the muscles in his arm, Cu tosses the angel high into the air and above the arena, Michael spinning out of control, desperately spreading her wings to stabilize.

Michael catches herself in the sky above the arena and looks down to see where Cu is, her mind already trying to form a plan, but this time no plan can be made as her eyes cannot spot her opponent. A shadow is cast behind her and in a split second, she spins around and raises a guard to see Cu having jumped up behind her, weapon held high and already parting the air to come crashing down on her. Bone hits metal and the saviour of heaven is sent down into the arena floor in the blink of an eye, the ground cracking beneath the impact. Michael lays in the centre of the small crater as her eyes watch Cu. “How… is a human stronger than any angel I have faced?” she mutters, looking up to the sky as she lays there trying to catch her breath, each breath shooting pain through her body, humanity cheering at the fight of a downed angel.

“For each blindly fast attack from Michael, Cu Chulainn responded with a devastating power blow that could end the match in an instant.” Metatron states while flying above the ring and observing the two combatants closely.

“Bah, look at her down in that arena laying there like one of those humans! She's a disgrace to use archangels if this is the showing she's presenting to humanity at the very first fight. Why if it were me down there I'd have killed that foolish human already!” Uriel scoffs, slamming his fist down into the arm of his throne.

“Calm yourself Raphael.” Gabriel says as his fellow angel grasps his hands tightly again. “That human is formidable, but you should know yourself that there is far more to Michael’s strength that is yet to be unleashed.”

“Gahahahaha, now this human really is interesting to have the saviour of heaven like this!” laughs Takemikazuchi. “Maybe humanity should stay if they have this much potential to challenge me.”

“Look at that! Look at that!” cries out Arthur in excitement. “I knew he would be a grand knight at my table, but to be able to strike down an Archangel like this was beyond my expectations.”

Cu Chulainn crashes down onto the earth, the ground beneath him breaking. Instead of charging forward he stops for a brief moment, bright eyes narrowing as he looks at the angel before speaking. “... During my life on Earth I faced countless warriors, humans that bravely charged into battle without shreds of regret… They… we have a habit of shattering expectations. If you think my strength will be lesser than that of an angel… those wings of yours will be pierced by my spear soon.”

“Regrets, you speak of them as if they are something so small, a single blade of grass to be cast out into the wind. If only they were so easy to be rid of.” Michael’s grip on her sword weakens as she continues to lay there, her mind far from the fight. “Azrael…if you could see me now, I fear what you would say to me, what you would think of my actions.”

A final sigh escapes the angel’s lips as she grips her sword again. The blade begins to glow a soft light as she begins to rise, returning to her feet while still looking up at the sky above. “Azrael, forgive me for not protecting you then… forgive me for what I do now. Once this is all done, I shall fight to stand for your cause. But for now, I must stand for my duty.”

Without another word, another blink, nor another breath, Michael surges forwards with a single beat of her wings, the injuries she's sustained clearly doing nothing to slow her down as she almost disappears from view. She closes the gap to Cu with a headfirst strike, sword poised to cut as the demigod lowers Gae Bulg to guard. The two weapons meet and where everyone expected to hear the weapons collide, instead they hear nothing. Michael flies past and lands on the arena floor, dust being kicked up from her attempt to stop her momentum, her breaths heavy as she stands there. Meanwhile behind her, a wave of blood drops down to the ground as Cu reaches down to his side, his hand being drenched in crimson ichor.

‘Many millenia ago, Heaven was at war against forces of the Underworld, facing a seemingly invincible monster, Satan. The serpent's scales proved too much for any weapon forged by the angels and their fangs devoured many of Heaven’s forces. Thus God created a weapon that will pierce any defense and scorch it in holy fire, a blade that would pierce through Satan’s scales.’

“And the only one that was capable of wielding it was Michael.” Gabriel speaks quietly as Cu Chiculain looks down on his stomach, a chunk of flesh missing as he feels a burning sensation coming from the wound.

The bane of evil and the sword of the just, Interfector Maximi Mali

“...” Not giving himself time to think about his injury, Cu grabs his spear and rushes towards Michael, the angel not wasting another second before flying away before Cu enters range to strike. The demigod blinks and Michael is behind him, sword ready and he attempts to block again, the same result as the sword passes through the spear and cuts through the top of his shoulder. Blood drips down his arm and arcs off as he swings Gae Bulg in an attempt to swat the speeding angel, only finding thin air as the burning sensation attacks his nerves.

Michael spins in the air and fires herself towards the human again to decapitate him in a single strike, her target choosing to abandon his guard as he attempts to launch a counter attack. Cu's spear swings up and Michael is forced to change her trajectory to avoid his strike, the sword on catching the edge of Cu's neck. Despite the relative shallowness of the cut, the burning still strikes with the same ferocity as the others.

Michael strikes again and again and again, the sword cutting through his thigh, his calf, his bicep, his chest, his core. Over and over again Michael zooms in and out of Cu's combat range, avoiding the demigod's counters as her sword cuts flesh each time. The burning sensation fills Cu's entire body, his nerves set alight more than ever than when on earth. Michael's sword cuts at his leg again, Cu starting to buckle from his injuries while Michael continues to strike with the same ferocity as the burning.

Michael turns to fly in again and as she approaches, she notices the demigod’s weird behaviour and changes her flight course to rise into the sky, her breaths frequent as her barrage of cuts has taken a lot out of her, the sword no longer glowing as it was before while she tries to catch her breath. She looks down in the arena, at her opponent, and there she sees a sight as horrific as the ones that haunt her.

Her vision blurs as she feels a sudden shift in the air, sharp piercing eyes staring at  her, the atmosphere chilling as if what stands before her is not a demi mod, but a monstrous hound, ready to bare his fangs into her. 

The human’s body begins to shift, his muscles flexing, bones loudly cracking, eyes turning into that of a beast. A murderous intent unlike anything shown before, Cu Chulainn grasps Gae Bolg, unbothered by grievous wounds he suffers. A deafening roar echoes out around the arena as the monster stares up at the floating angel, every muscle in its body screaming to tear her to shreds.

Meanwhile in the sky, the blade in Michael's hand nearly slips out and drops to the arena floor, the angel's breaths now shallow as a cold sweat runs down her neck. “N-no, don't take me back. Don't take me back please. I don't want to return. Azrael please don't punish me like this. Mercy Azrael. I beg of thee mercy,” she quietly mutters under her breath, her eyes unable to move away from the monster below.

u/LaniaGren17 — 6 days ago
▲ 3 r/RecordOfOurRagnarok

u/LaniaGren17 — 14 days ago
▲ 6 r/RecordOfOurRagnarok

The light and the saint

The crowds quietly chatter amongst each other regarding the change in scenery before them. The last time humanity had fought against the gods in a unique arena like this they had claimed their first win, but similarly, the only other time they had fought in an arena like this they suffered their second loss of Ragnarok. Will this time prove fruitful or deadly for humanity? They can all only speculate though there are some more confident than others. In the gods’ stands, a mother and her son sit together waiting for their champion to walk out.
'So my brother is finally getting what he’s been going on and on about. I hope this will help with his high energy problems,’ mutters a god dressed in chainmail and metal boots, bear hide and fur being used to cover his skin from the outside elements. His eyes are a glossy white, the irises of them a pale grey as he stares out into seeming nothingness.
‘It may let him burn some of that energy, though it may cause him to become even more eager to fight everything in front of him. As much as I’d prefer it to be the former, I unfortunately doubt it will come to pass. All that will happen is that whoever it is that Baldr fights shall suffer the same fate as everyone else, watching their blows slide right off his skin until they drop from exhaustion. The excitement of everyone waiting hardly feels fitting for his simple this round shall be,’ says Frigg, the goddess dressed in a white linen dress similar to the cloth that Baldr wears, her hair a darker shade of blonde, that almost looks like solid gold, than her son’s. Around her neck she wears a necklace made of silver, a crescent moon with a sun above it serving as the pendant.
‘Baldr’s gift truly is a powerful thing when none of us here in the heavens have found a way to pierce his skin.’ Hodr’s words carefully hide a feeling of resentment behind them, a feeling he has carefully learnt to mask during his life.
‘And I see no reason for that way to be found here.’

The murmuring in the crowd continues until three loud thumps echo out around the arena. ‘Seems to be working without too much echo with this arena so we can get started,’ says Hermes to his co-host.
‘Wait, are they in position yet? Imagine how anti-climatic it would be for us to do a grand introduction and they’re not even there,’ Tezcatlipoca asks with a slight chuckle.
‘Of course they’re ready, we got the signals. Now let's get started before Nyx gets mad at us for stalling for too long.’
‘The day these two idiots learn how to properly deal with a microphone is the day I die,’ sighs Nyx as she and everyone in the audience hears the two hosts chat.
‘Welcome one and all to the sixth round of Ragnarok!’ Hermes yells into the microphone to immediately change the topic of discussion, the gods half of the arena loudly cheering while the humans moderately cheer, the memory of having lost round five still weighing heavily on them. ‘In our last bout we saw the titan of the sky draw out a close victory against the mortal king that defied death, and if the momentum from all the previous rounds is to continue, this will be a fight like no other. But now the question is, will our fighters be able to bring forth a fight we shall all remember for as long as we live, or shall the excitement all crash and burn? Only they can decide that here and now. And what better way to start off the fight is there, than meeting the fighter for the gods' side?’

As Hermes speaks, the stone doors on the gods side of the forest slowly begin to open and a blinding light begins to shine out from the slit. ‘Ah, there he is,’ comments Hodr.
‘Everyone here, bear witness to a god that shines above others as a god of light. Bear witness to a god that will charge headfirst into battle and come out victorious. Bear witness to a god that could fight every god of war at once and win. Bear witness to the god that has never once watched blood seep from their body. He is a god like none other, the only god with true invulnerability where even the sharpest blade will slide off his skin. He is the son of Frigg, born with this perfect gift. He is a god loved by all who he encounters, a god always cheerful and looking to spar. He is a name all in Valhalla will know. He is none other than the invulnerable, BBBBBBAAAAAALLLLLLLDDDDDDDDRRRRRRRR!!!’
The god of light walks out into the Nordic forest, his usual outfit of a white robe with his bare chest and the light that dances across it unchanged, though on his arms and shins he wears bracers made of a shining silver that reflects the light behind him. With a calm composure, he walks to the central clearing of the forest and stands in the snow, flicking a bit off his shoulder as he waits for his opponent. Meanwhile in the stands, Orion looks down at the god in total fear. ‘No no no no no no no no no. Our luck can't be this bad. Why is Nyx sending him here now? I’ve sent Jeanne to her guaranteed death. Damn it all, I was hoping he’d be saved for last so I wouldn’t have to worry about him or at least find a way to harm him somehow! Who am I kidding, if no one else has by now, how was I going to?’ the demigod mutters, pacing back and forth with his hands in his hair. ‘As much as I’d love to see Jeanne win here, I see no way she can. I may as well go prepare for the next round as this won't take long. No, no, I should at least stay and give Jeanne my support, it’s the least I can do.’ 
‘He really is as bright as ever,’ mutters Frigg as her eyes remain on her son in the forest.
‘Maybe even too bright if I can see him, though I do still question if my ability to see him and only him is a curse from being born as twins.’
‘Don’t say that Hodr. Surely seeing your brother even through your blindness is a blessing.’
‘In some ways yes, in other ways no.’

‘With Baldr ready and waiting in the arena, let us see who it is that shall be meeting him here,’ Tezcatlipoca says as the stone doors on the human side of the arena begin to open. They open fully and Tezcatlipoca is about to start speaking again, however the god is cut off as fire erupts from the entrance and forms a corridor of towering flames that reach the center of the forest. ‘Sweet mercy no one prepared me for that,’ he mutters as a figure begins to walk down the corridor of fire, a giant wooden stake atop their shoulder that seems larger than they are. ‘Now then, who is it that walks out surrounded by fire you may be asking? Our next fighter is one whose life was surrounded by the flames of humanity. From the raging fire of faith within them, to the burning fires that brought their life to an end. As a child they saw a vision, as a late teen they became a general, and as a young adult her life came to an end. Fighting in the hundred year war, her name has become cemented in history as one of the strongest women in history, the patron saint of Orleans and a hero of France. She fought the English till her very end, defying them even in the face of death. She speaks of her gospel and her path forward as decided by her god. She now walks forward into battle as humanity’s guiding light. She is none other than the maiden of Orleans, JJJEEEAAANNNEEE DDD’AAARRRCCC!!!’

The saint reaches the end of the flaming corridor and stands before the awaiting god who stands there with a smirk on his face. ‘Such a flashy entrance for a human, you already seem to be fun, though I doubt this fight will be very fruitful for either of us.’
Jeanne lets the stake drop from her shoulder and stand tall beside her. ‘Fun and fruitful? You remind me of how some people thought I acted during the war. Though I’m not here simply for fun. Under the lord’s guidance I stand here to guide humanity to their salvation, and I won’t stand by until I have succeeded.’
Baldr looks at the saint’s determined gaze and can’t help but laugh. ‘Oh so confident in the face of certain death. Are you the only one up here who hasn’t heard of me? And what lord? The vote to destroy all of humanity was unanimous so even if the one you’re referring to is up here, he voted for your destruction.’
In the face of Baldr laughing, Jeanne simply takes a deep breath. ‘I know not if you lie here, but your words shall not break my spirit nor my faith in the lord and the mission he has given me.’
Baldr’s laughing stops though his tone still remains jovial. ‘Oh don’t worry about questioning if I’m lying, I’m not the type to lie to anyone as the shining god Baldr. So believe me when I say this, I’m here for a good fight, but you have no chance at killing me or tiring me out. My body is invulnerable. My stamina is far beyond the concepts of a human. Unless you want to throw your life away and become some sort of martyr, I’d suggest you surrender before I kill you in front of those you’re trying to be some sort of saviour for.’ He stretches his arm as he speaks, his body language remaining upbeat while, for the first time in centuries, his tone becomes threatening.
‘Sister, he lieth not about his invulnerability. It may be wise to consider his offer of mercy. Humanity will still need one to lead them and act as a guiding light for the coming trials, and if you are to perish here that light will be snuffed out.’ A third figure in the arena says from behind Jeanne, dressed in the traditional clothing of a nun during the middle ages, her face covered by a piece of white cloth that stands out against her black robes.
‘Surrendering here will just bring humanity closer to destruction. Dying here or surrendering both lead to that guiding light being snuffed out. Even if it may seem impossible, I won’t abandon humanity here.’
‘Very well sister. I shall offer you my strength and support for as long as you require it.’
‘I appreciate your support, Crux, truly.’
‘You really should listen to your constellation buddy there. No god has ever managed to pierce my skin so I see no reason why a human like yourself will, even if you try really hard or you were led here by some god. My invitation to surrender will remain open though, that is if you manage to give me a good fight,’ interrupts Baldr, returning the saint’s attention back to him. ‘I haven’t fought someone using a giant stick of wood before. Let’s see if this’ll be the weapon to harm me.’
‘If both our fighters are ready,’ Tezcatlipoca begins, Jeanne picking up her stake in response while Baldr finishes his stretching, ‘let the sixth round of Ragnarok… Begin!’

Jeanne immediately launches forwards at Baldr, swinging her stake like it’s a club. The blunt end surges towards the god’s head, Baldr standing there unmoved by Jeanne’s aggressive start. His arm suddenly shoots up and the stake slams into his forearm with a force that would normally snap it in half, but all it does is slightly move it closer to his head. ‘Now that’s a fairly powerful strike,’ says Baldr, his right hand balling into a fist while his left arm pushes back against the stake. ‘This might be interesting, but let’s see if you can take a real punch.’ 
Light gathers around Baldr’s forearm before he performs a simple jab aimed at Jeanne’s chest. In the blink of an eye, his fist finds its mark and Jeanne is sent flying back, her chestplate denting beneath the blow and she coughs up a small amount of blood before crashing back into a tree. Snow drops down from the leaves and onto Jeanne who drops to her knees, the gods in the stands laughing while humanity mutters amongst themselves in fear. ‘Il peut assurément frapper fort,’ mutters Jeanne as she rises to her feet, stake still in hand with Baldr in front of her.
‘Hey hey, you can still stand up after that. You definitely seem like a promising fight even if you can’t harm me.’
‘Throw whatever it is you must, I will continue to stand until humanity is saved.’

Now back on her feet, Jeanne grips the stake hard and rushes forward, the snow crunching beneath her feet. Baldr readies himself to counter again, but to his surprise his vision is quickly filled by the pointed end of the stake as Jeanne throws her weapon like a javelin at him. Baldr goes to catch it, but it slips from his hands and slams into the ground to stand tall, blocking his view of the advancing saint. He goes to look behind it at where she is, but finds himself unable to move as he feels ropes wrap around his waist and torso. He looks down in confusion before easily breaking the ropes around him. He spins around to look where Jeanne is, but all he sees is snow and trees. He looks over his shoulder to check back and sees the saint’s shadow on the ground grabbing at the stake. He turns around to see Jeanne above him, grabbing the end of the stake. Using her momentum, she shifts her body enough to rip the stake out of the ground and spins to slam it down. Baldr raises both arms in a cross the block, but the force of Jeanne’s strike blasts through it and breaks his defences though the god sustains no harm.
Jeanne drops to the ground while Baldr is still vulnerable, spinning with the stake to slam it into Baldr’s stomach, putting her full weight into the blow. The strike lands true and Baldr is sent flying through the trees, the gods gasping at the sight of Baldr taking a proper hit for the first time ever. The cameras zoom over to Baldr’s position and see him buried deep inside a mistletoe bush, his body hidden by the foliage.
‘It sounds like they really think a blow like that could harm Baldr,’ Hodr mutters, the sounds of gods gasping and humanity cheering fills his ears.
‘If it were anyone other than my son I could understand their fears,’ says Frigg, ‘but this is Baldr at the centre of attention. Something like that will never be enough to harm him.’

Jeanne looks between the trees at where Baldr flew and sees the bush rustle as the god tries to get out of it. ‘Haha, a good blow. Unfortunately for you,’ Baldr rises from the mistletoe bush, his clothing and skin all unscratched by the leaves, ‘it wasn’t enough to draw even a drop of blood. Keep at it though, you might end up being one of my favourite fights even if you can’t.’ Baldr walks out of the bush and cracks his knuckles as he slowly starts to walk back to the central clearing, Jeanne standing ready with her stake. ‘Now then, it’s my turn to go on the offensive.’

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u/LaniaGren17 — 14 days ago
▲ 4 r/ShuumatsuNoValkyrie

The light and the saint

The crowds quietly chatter amongst each other regarding the change in scenery before them. The last time humanity had fought against the gods in a unique arena like this they had claimed their first win, but similarly, the only other time they had fought in an arena like this they suffered their second loss of Ragnarok. Will this time prove fruitful or deadly for humanity? They can all only speculate though there are some more confident than others. In the gods’ stands, a mother and her son sit together waiting for their champion to walk out.
'So my brother is finally getting what he’s been going on and on about. I hope this will help with his high energy problems,’ mutters a god dressed in chainmail and metal boots, bear hide and fur being used to cover his skin from the outside elements. His eyes are a glossy white, the irises of them a pale grey as he stares out into seeming nothingness.
‘It may let him burn some of that energy, though it may cause him to become even more eager to fight everything in front of him. As much as I’d prefer it to be the former, I unfortunately doubt it will come to pass. All that will happen is that whoever it is that Baldr fights shall suffer the same fate as everyone else, watching their blows slide right off his skin until they drop from exhaustion. The excitement of everyone waiting hardly feels fitting for his simple this round shall be,’ says Frigg, the goddess dressed in a white linen dress similar to the cloth that Baldr wears, her hair a darker shade of blonde, that almost looks like solid gold, than her son’s. Around her neck she wears a necklace made of silver, a crescent moon with a sun above it serving as the pendant.
‘Baldr’s gift truly is a powerful thing when none of us here in the heavens have found a way to pierce his skin.’ Hodr’s words carefully hide a feeling of resentment behind them, a feeling he has carefully learnt to mask during his life.
‘And I see no reason for that way to be found here.’

The murmuring in the crowd continues until three loud thumps echo out around the arena. ‘Seems to be working without too much echo with this arena so we can get started,’ says Hermes to his co-host.
‘Wait, are they in position yet? Imagine how anti-climatic it would be for us to do a grand introduction and they’re not even there,’ Tezcatlipoca asks with a slight chuckle.
‘Of course they’re ready, we got the signals. Now let's get started before Nyx gets mad at us for stalling for too long.’
‘The day these two idiots learn how to properly deal with a microphone is the day I die,’ sighs Nyx as she and everyone in the audience hears the two hosts chat.
‘Welcome one and all to the sixth round of Ragnarok!’ Hermes yells into the microphone to immediately change the topic of discussion, the gods half of the arena loudly cheering while the humans moderately cheer, the memory of having lost round five still weighing heavily on them. ‘In our last bout we saw the titan of the sky draw out a close victory against the mortal king that defied death, and if the momentum from all the previous rounds is to continue, this will be a fight like no other. But now the question is, will our fighters be able to bring forth a fight we shall all remember for as long as we live, or shall the excitement all crash and burn? Only they can decide that here and now. And what better way to start off the fight is there, than meeting the fighter for the gods' side?’

As Hermes speaks, the stone doors on the gods side of the forest slowly begin to open and a blinding light begins to shine out from the slit. ‘Ah, there he is,’ comments Hodr.
‘Everyone here, bear witness to a god that shines above others as a god of light. Bear witness to a god that will charge headfirst into battle and come out victorious. Bear witness to a god that could fight every god of war at once and win. Bear witness to the god that has never once watched blood seep from their body. He is a god like none other, the only god with true invulnerability where even the sharpest blade will slide off his skin. He is the son of Frigg, born with this perfect gift. He is a god loved by all who he encounters, a god always cheerful and looking to spar. He is a name all in Valhalla will know. He is none other than the invulnerable, BBBBBBAAAAAALLLLLLLDDDDDDDDRRRRRRRR!!!’
The god of light walks out into the Nordic forest, his usual outfit of a white robe with his bare chest and the light that dances across it unchanged, though on his arms and shins he wears bracers made of a shining silver that reflects the light behind him. With a calm composure, he walks to the central clearing of the forest and stands in the snow, flicking a bit off his shoulder as he waits for his opponent. Meanwhile in the stands, Orion looks down at the god in total fear. ‘No no no no no no no no no. Our luck can't be this bad. Why is Nyx sending him here now? I’ve sent Jeanne to her guaranteed death. Damn it all, I was hoping he’d be saved for last so I wouldn’t have to worry about him or at least find a way to harm him somehow! Who am I kidding, if no one else has by now, how was I going to?’ the demigod mutters, pacing back and forth with his hands in his hair. ‘As much as I’d love to see Jeanne win here, I see no way she can. I may as well go prepare for the next round as this won't take long. No, no, I should at least stay and give Jeanne my support, it’s the least I can do.’ 
‘He really is as bright as ever,’ mutters Frigg as her eyes remain on her son in the forest.
‘Maybe even too bright if I can see him, though I do still question if my ability to see him and only him is a curse from being born as twins.’
‘Don’t say that Hodr. Surely seeing your brother even through your blindness is a blessing.’
‘In some ways yes, in other ways no.’

‘With Baldr ready and waiting in the arena, let us see who it is that shall be meeting him here,’ Tezcatlipoca says as the stone doors on the human side of the arena begin to open. They open fully and Tezcatlipoca is about to start speaking again, however the god is cut off as fire erupts from the entrance and forms a corridor of towering flames that reach the center of the forest. ‘Sweet mercy no one prepared me for that,’ he mutters as a figure begins to walk down the corridor of fire, a giant wooden stake atop their shoulder that seems larger than they are. ‘Now then, who is it that walks out surrounded by fire you may be asking? Our next fighter is one whose life was surrounded by the flames of humanity. From the raging fire of faith within them, to the burning fires that brought their life to an end. As a child they saw a vision, as a late teen they became a general, and as a young adult her life came to an end. Fighting in the hundred year war, her name has become cemented in history as one of the strongest women in history, the patron saint of Orleans and a hero of France. She fought the English till her very end, defying them even in the face of death. She speaks of her gospel and her path forward as decided by her god. She now walks forward into battle as humanity’s guiding light. She is none other than the maiden of Orleans, JJJEEEAAANNNEEE DDD’AAARRRCCC!!!’

The saint reaches the end of the flaming corridor and stands before the awaiting god who stands there with a smirk on his face. ‘Such a flashy entrance for a human, you already seem to be fun, though I doubt this fight will be very fruitful for either of us.’
Jeanne lets the stake drop from her shoulder and stand tall beside her. ‘Fun and fruitful? You remind me of how some people thought I acted during the war. Though I’m not here simply for fun. Under the lord’s guidance I stand here to guide humanity to their salvation, and I won’t stand by until I have succeeded.’
Baldr looks at the saint’s determined gaze and can’t help but laugh. ‘Oh so confident in the face of certain death. Are you the only one up here who hasn’t heard of me? And what lord? The vote to destroy all of humanity was unanimous so even if the one you’re referring to is up here, he voted for your destruction.’
In the face of Baldr laughing, Jeanne simply takes a deep breath. ‘I know not if you lie here, but your words shall not break my spirit nor my faith in the lord and the mission he has given me.’
Baldr’s laughing stops though his tone still remains jovial. ‘Oh don’t worry about questioning if I’m lying, I’m not the type to lie to anyone as the shining god Baldr. So believe me when I say this, I’m here for a good fight, but you have no chance at killing me or tiring me out. My body is invulnerable. My stamina is far beyond the concepts of a human. Unless you want to throw your life away and become some sort of martyr, I’d suggest you surrender before I kill you in front of those you’re trying to be some sort of saviour for.’ He stretches his arm as he speaks, his body language remaining upbeat while, for the first time in centuries, his tone becomes threatening.
‘Sister, he lieth not about his invulnerability. It may be wise to consider his offer of mercy. Humanity will still need one to lead them and act as a guiding light for the coming trials, and if you are to perish here that light will be snuffed out.’ A third figure in the arena says from behind Jeanne, dressed in the traditional clothing of a nun during the middle ages, her face covered by a piece of white cloth that stands out against her black robes.
‘Surrendering here will just bring humanity closer to destruction. Dying here or surrendering both lead to that guiding light being snuffed out. Even if it may seem impossible, I won’t abandon humanity here.’
‘Very well sister. I shall offer you my strength and support for as long as you require it.’
‘I appreciate your support, Crux, truly.’
‘You really should listen to your constellation buddy there. No god has ever managed to pierce my skin so I see no reason why a human like yourself will, even if you try really hard or you were led here by some god. My invitation to surrender will remain open though, that is if you manage to give me a good fight,’ interrupts Baldr, returning the saint’s attention back to him. ‘I haven’t fought someone using a giant stick of wood before. Let’s see if this’ll be the weapon to harm me.’
‘If both our fighters are ready,’ Tezcatlipoca begins, Jeanne picking up her stake in response while Baldr finishes his stretching, ‘let the sixth round of Ragnarok… Begin!’

Jeanne immediately launches forwards at Baldr, swinging her stake like it’s a club. The blunt end surges towards the god’s head, Baldr standing there unmoved by Jeanne’s aggressive start. His arm suddenly shoots up and the stake slams into his forearm with a force that would normally snap it in half, but all it does is slightly move it closer to his head. ‘Now that’s a fairly powerful strike,’ says Baldr, his right hand balling into a fist while his left arm pushes back against the stake. ‘This might be interesting, but let’s see if you can take a real punch.’ 
Light gathers around Baldr’s forearm before he performs a simple jab aimed at Jeanne’s chest. In the blink of an eye, his fist finds its mark and Jeanne is sent flying back, her chestplate denting beneath the blow and she coughs up a small amount of blood before crashing back into a tree. Snow drops down from the leaves and onto Jeanne who drops to her knees, the gods in the stands laughing while humanity mutters amongst themselves in fear. ‘Il peut assurément frapper fort,’ mutters Jeanne as she rises to her feet, stake still in hand with Baldr in front of her.
‘Hey hey, you can still stand up after that. You definitely seem like a promising fight even if you can’t harm me.’
‘Throw whatever it is you must, I will continue to stand until humanity is saved.’

Now back on her feet, Jeanne grips the stake hard and rushes forward, the snow crunching beneath her feet. Baldr readies himself to counter again, but to his surprise his vision is quickly filled by the pointed end of the stake as Jeanne throws her weapon like a javelin at him. Baldr goes to catch it, but it slips from his hands and slams into the ground to stand tall, blocking his view of the advancing saint. He goes to look behind it at where she is, but finds himself unable to move as he feels ropes wrap around his waist and torso. He looks down in confusion before easily breaking the ropes around him. He spins around to look where Jeanne is, but all he sees is snow and trees. He looks over his shoulder to check back and sees the saint’s shadow on the ground grabbing at the stake. He turns around to see Jeanne above him, grabbing the end of the stake. Using her momentum, she shifts her body enough to rip the stake out of the ground and spins to slam it down. Baldr raises both arms in a cross the block, but the force of Jeanne’s strike blasts through it and breaks his defences though the god sustains no harm.
Jeanne drops to the ground while Baldr is still vulnerable, spinning with the stake to slam it into Baldr’s stomach, putting her full weight into the blow. The strike lands true and Baldr is sent flying through the trees, the gods gasping at the sight of Baldr taking a proper hit for the first time ever. The cameras zoom over to Baldr’s position and see him buried deep inside a mistletoe bush, his body hidden by the foliage.
‘It sounds like they really think a blow like that could harm Baldr,’ Hodr mutters, the sounds of gods gasping and humanity cheering fills his ears.
‘If it were anyone other than my son I could understand their fears,’ says Frigg, ‘but this is Baldr at the centre of attention. Something like that will never be enough to harm him.’

Jeanne looks between the trees at where Baldr flew and sees the bush rustle as the god tries to get out of it. ‘Haha, a good blow. Unfortunately for you,’ Baldr rises from the mistletoe bush, his clothing and skin all unscratched by the leaves, ‘it wasn’t enough to draw even a drop of blood. Keep at it though, you might end up being one of my favourite fights even if you can’t.’ Baldr walks out of the bush and cracks his knuckles as he slowly starts to walk back to the central clearing, Jeanne standing ready with her stake. ‘Now then, it’s my turn to go on the offensive.’

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u/LaniaGren17 — 14 days ago