After just ten minutes of walking through the forest path, they arrived in front of the rundown temple.
Elric stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening.
The structure before him was made of yellow stone, weathered and broken in many places. Cracks spider-webbed across the walls, sections of the roof had collapsed, and moss covered nearly every surface. Yet despite its decrepit state, Elric had to admit one thing.
This place is majestic as fuck.
The architecture itself was breathtaking—ancient Norse craftsmanship combined with something else, something that felt otherworldly. The carved pillars, though crumbling, depicted scenes of cosmic battles and divine figures. The entrance archway, despite missing several stones, still maintained a sense of grandeur that spoke of a time when this place commanded respect and awe.
But as Elric took in the sight, a question rose in his mind.
Why isn't this place famous?
Any structure like this should be one of the most popular tourist spots in the world. Archaeological teams should be swarming the area. Historians should be fighting for the chance to study it. At the very least, local people should be visiting regularly, bringing offerings or simply admiring the ancient architecture.
But there was nothing. No tourists. No locals. Not even a single person besides the three of them.
The temple sat in complete isolation, forgotten by the world.
It feels weird, Elric thought, frowning slightly. But then again, maybe there's a reason for that.
He decided not to dwell on it for now. There were more immediate concerns.
While Elric followed a few steps behind, Thor and Eira walked ahead, engaged in their own heated discussion.
"Thor, how can you just bring someone you met ten minutes ago?" Eira hissed, keeping her voice low but unable to hide her frustration. "It's crazy!"
The same careless attitude she'd come to both love and fear over the past week answered her immediately.
"Don't worry!" Thor said with his characteristic confidence. "He is a mighty warrior who knows about the glorious Asgard. He's definitely not a bad person!"
Eira felt completely speechless.
What the fuck does that even mean?
How could knowing about Asgard and being a good person be related? Didn't his enemies also know about him? In fact, his enemies probably knew more about him than his friends did!
The more she thought about it, the more concerned she became. What if this Elric guy was actually an enemy of Asgard? What if he'd heard that Thor had lost his power and come specifically to kill him while he was vulnerable?
The scenarios ran through her mind like a nightmare. But she didn't voice her concerns aloud.
Thor had lost his divine power, and she was just a normal human. Even if Elric was an enemy, he clearly didn't plan to kill them immediately—otherwise, they'd already be dead. If she tried to confront him now, he might change his mind and kill them both on the spot.
I'll just wait until Thor regains his power, she decided grimly. Then we can deal with any threats properly.
For now, she would watch, wait, and pray that Thor's instincts about people were better than his decision-making skills.
After entering the temple through the weathered stone archway, the first thing Elric noticed was the countless runes covering every surface.
They were everywhere—carved into the walls, etched into the floor, even inscribed on the few remaining ceiling beams. But these weren't just decorative symbols. They pulsed with power, arcing with immense energy that all concentrated toward the center of the temple.
Elric felt a flicker of familiarity.
Even though his Naruto-version self hadn't studied sealing techniques extensively, he'd still been taught the fundamental principles. The important knowledge had been drilled into him during his training. And looking at these runes now, he almost felt like he was seeing some kind of advanced sealing technique.
Or maybe it's just my imagination, he thought, studying the patterns more carefully.
Runes were one of the strongest forces in the Marvel universe, capable of accomplishing nearly anything—from creating pocket dimensions to binding cosmic entities. Maybe this was some kind of portal system. Perhaps it really was meant to open a pathway to Asgard, as Thor believed.
According to Thor and Eira, they'd already found a way to activate the runes.
"Thor, it needs Asgardian royal blood to activate," Eira explained, moving toward the center altar. "Then we're supposed to chant the incantation we translated aloud."
"Here?" Thor asked, positioning himself on the raised stone platform. "Right at the center?"
"Yes, just drop your blood onto the altar."
Thor nodded and pulled out a small knife. Without hesitation, he drew the blade across his palm, letting crimson drops fall onto the ancient stone.
The moment his blood made contact with the altar, everything changed.
All the energy that had been dormant for who knows how long suddenly came to life simultaneously. The runes erupted in intense blue light, so bright that Elric had to shield his eyes. The entire temple thrummed with power, vibrating with a frequency that made his teeth ache.
Eira opened the journal she'd been carrying and began to chant, her voice steady despite the circumstances.
"Oh great being of frost, we await your great arrival!"
Elric's eyes snapped to her, alarm bells ringing in his mind.
"Descend to this barren world and cover it with the winter it deserves!"
Wait. What?
"Take this Asgardian blood as your sacrifice and grace your believers with your curse!"
The more Elric listened, the more he felt something was terribly, horribly wrong.
What the fuck is wrong with this girl's brain?
This wasn't a portal to Asgard. This was clearly a ritual to summon some kind of evil god or demonic entity! Who the hell listened to an incantation like that and came to the conclusion that it was a good idea?
Elric's hand moved instinctively, preparing to intervene and disrupt the ritual before—
BOOOOM!
The ground suddenly shook with the force of a magnitude-nine earthquake.
A deep tremor cut through the air, louder and more violent than before.
The ground beneath their feet shook so violently that Elric nearly lost his balance. Thor stumbled on the altar platform, catching himself against one of the stone pillars. Eira fell to her knees, the journal tumbling from her hands.
Birds erupted from a nearby tree outside the temple—dozens of them taking flight in panic. But halfway into the sky, frost suddenly overtook their wings, spreading across their feathers like crystalline death. They froze mid-flight, their bodies going rigid before falling like brittle statues, shattering when they hit the ground.
"What's happening?!" Eira gasped, her face pale with shock and growing terror.
Thor rose to his feet unsteadily, his expression shifting from confusion to grim realization. Even without his godly powers, his warrior instincts were screaming danger.
"Stay behind me!" He moved quickly, positioning himself between Eira and the center of the temple where the blue light was growing more intense.
Eira shook her head, trying to stand. "No—this is my temple! My duty! I should—"
CRACK!
A second tremor struck, far more powerful than the first.
The earth buckled beneath them, stones breaking apart as massive cracks spread across the temple floor like lightning. A column of icy fog suddenly erupted from a crack in the ground not twenty meters away, billowing upward in an unnatural plume of freezing mist.
The temperature plummeted instantly.
All three of their breaths turned to visible mist in the air. Frost began spreading across the walls, creeping along the ancient stones like living fingers. Ice crystals formed on the runes themselves, causing the blue light to refract and multiply into a dazzling, terrifying display.
Then they heard it.
A voice—deep, ancient, echoing from somewhere beneath the earth itself—rolled across the forest like thunder:
"HEEEEEEE... FINALLY... FREEEEEEE..."
The words were drawn out, filled with malevolent joy and hunger that had been suppressed for far too long.
Eira took a step back, her whole body trembling. "What... what is that?"
Thor's eyes narrowed, his fists clenching despite having no weapon and no power to call upon. His expression hardened with recognition.
"That voice..." he muttered grimly. "I know that tongue. It is Jötun—a Frost Giant dialect."
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