The battlefield was in ruins. What had once been a beautiful city of white houses with red and black tones, adorned with towering totems, was now nothing but devastation—an infertile ground littered with burning remnants. Ash floated through the air while thick smoke, born from Freyr’s explosions and the combined attacks of Thor and Menrva, completely covered the sky.
The waves surrounding the island were violent, and all fish and birds had fled the disaster zone. Even the animals in the forests beyond the island had scattered, fearing the cataclysm unfolding.
The people Loki and Y’aahl had teleported were now in the forest, far from Haida Gwaii. From there, they could see the destruction—the devastating explosions that had ravaged their city. Terror gripped them all, including prisoners and slaves, while their leader tried to encourage them. To many, the foreigners who had arrived were nothing less than demons who had brought about the end of their world.
Ana had stopped sobbing, slowly accepting her friend’s death. She had closed Epona’s eyes and folded her hands, gazing at her with deep sorrow.
Freyja approached and gently patted her shoulder.
“Did meow… love her very much?” she asked softly.
“She was the first friend I ever had,” Ana replied, her eyes red from crying, her face worn and pale.
“Listen, girl… I don't wanna give meow false hope, purr… my father can bring souls back from Hel… if they ain’t been gone too long,” Freyja said. “He’s here right now… fightin’ that abomeownation.”
“Can he really bring her back to life?” Ana asked, her eyes wide, her mouth open in shock.
“Yeah… purr that’s why we’re gonna help him. Even with meow broken totemas… we’ll try somethin´,” Freyja replied.
Ana stood up immediately, filled with renewed energy.
“I want to fight too!” she declared, her eyes burning with determination.
“Sure. You’re welcome, meow.”
“But…” Freyja added, interrupting herself, “I don't wanna give meow false hope. I don’t know how Father does it… or what conditions it needs. And if he dies… there won’t be any meowracle. Got it?”
Ana wiped her tears.
“I accept the risk. For even the smallest hope, I’ll stake my life.”
She looked at Freyja and saw Tyr and Freyr standing beside her, both with their totems shattered. Then she turned to Epona’s lifeless body.
“Epona… please hold on a little longer,” she whispered.
Without hesitation, she joined the Norse gods.
“Loki, we’re ready. Teleport us,” Tyr demanded.
Loki approached, levitating the last mugs of mead he had taken from Ana’s dimension.
“Remember… you could end up just like that Celtic goddess. A sudden surge beyond your ichor limit will kill you instantly,” the dark god warned.
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“That is a risk we are willing to take—for Father,” Tyr replied.
“Loki,” Freyr said, “I never got to thank you for helping Father… in your own way. But thank you ♬”
“If we survive… Father will be very grateful to meow,” Freyja added.
Loki stepped forward to teleport them. At that moment, Ana grabbed his hand and looked at him intensely with her blue eyes.
“Loki… take care of Epona for me.”
The Norse god nodded.
Loki teleported them all to the battlefield, then remained behind. He sat beside Epona’s lifeless body.
“You were fortunate… to have people who loved you so much,” he murmured.
Meanwhile, Odin and Anat stood facing each other, their gazes locked. The Phoenician goddess looked at Gungnir and smiled.
“I must confess something, god of the north,” Anat said with a grin. “When I learned you were alive, I made this entire journey just to claim your spear.”
Odin lowered his spear but said nothing, maintaining a defiant stare.
“Though I must admit… I did not believe you still lived. My sister Baalat should have finished you,” Anat added, trying to provoke him.
Odin stroked his long beard and began to laugh.
“Long ago, I drank from Mimir’s well. It granted me the ability to glimpse the future,” he said calmly. “That is why I knew the moment you would attack… and I prepared for it.”
“If you could not defeat my sister, you will never defeat me,” Anat declared proudly. “I am my father’s strongest daughter.”
“Battles are not won by brute strength alone, daughter of El,” Odin replied.
He then turned toward Thor.
“My son, I would have you thank Loki for helping restore me… and I apologize for arriving so late,” Odin said. “I would have preferred that blonde girl did not die… but I needed to witness her combat strength before acting.”
“Can you heal her? Thanks to her, we broke Anat’s barrier,” Thor asked.
“I do not know,” Odin answered. “Perhaps in Valhalla… but with the divine suppressors, it will be difficult.”
At that moment, Odin foresaw Anat slashing at his neck. He raised his spear defensively—but it was a vision of the immediate future. Anat was only just beginning her attack. Odin anticipated it and blocked her with Gungnir.
The goddess’s strength was overwhelming. They clashed, lightning erupting from the collision of their powers.
“Tell me, wretch… how long have you been pretending to be one of my malak?” Anat demanded as they struggled.
“What is the matter, Anat?” Odin replied mockingly. “Was the great daughter of El unable to detect my disguise?”
With a surge of strength, Odin hurled her away.
“I have been in these lands for over a year… and you only a month. It is quite clear you are tiring quickly from bearing your totema,” he added.
Anat raised her katana again.
Odin made a swift motion, his gaze fixed on her ankle. Instantly, her ankle tore apart despite the greaves protecting it, and she fell face-first to the ground.
“I told you, Anat… my spear never misses,” Odin said.
He thrust his spear with tremendous force, kicking up dust—
—but it did not touch her.
Anat was lifted into the air by an invisible strike, coughing blood.
Odin followed with a barrage of thrusts and slashes through the air. Each invisible blow struck Anat, though none made physical contact. Blood poured from her wounds and lips.
When Odin finished, Anat remained standing, drenched in blood. She lowered her gaze to meet his—and smiled grotesquely.
“Is that all you can do, you worthless old man?” she laughed.
Her wounds healed instantly. She summoned her katana back to her hand with telekinesis—it had fallen during Odin’s first attack.
“It didn’t damage her ichor at all,” Menrva said in shock.
“Reckon she’s got plenty of ichor left,” Thor said, grinning slightly. “But if she can’t stop Father’s attacks… she’s gonna fall sooner or later, ya hear?”
Odin once again saw the future—Anat severing the hand that held Gungnir. He moved instantly, avoiding the strike.
As Anat’s attack missed, her back was left exposed. Odin gathered energy in his free hand and struck her, sending her flying. Her purple cape tore apart as she crashed face-first into the ground again.
The old god raised his spear and drove Gungnir into the ground.
The same motion manifested in Anat’s body—she was impaled by an invisible attack.
“A spear that never misses… and the ability to see the immediate future…” Anat said from the ground, her wounds already healing. “It is as if I am fighting against a cheat.”