As the first frost of winter settled over the spires of Asgard, the royal hunting season came to a close. Odin was preparing for a diplomatic circuit through the Nine Realms, and for the first time, he was leaving the boys behind.
Thor was devastated. The "Boar Incident" had left him grounded, ordered to stay within the palace walls to focus on "discipline and basic strikes."
"It's not fair, Loki," Thor grumbled, leaning against a marble pillar in the training yard. "I should be out there. I'm a warrior!"
Loki, sitting on the steps with a practice sword across his lap, gave a sympathetic sigh. "I know, Brother. But we're still young. The Boar King was a wake-up call. If we want to be respected, we have to be untouchable. We have to train until the world trembles when we walk."
Thor's eyes caught fire. "You're right. I'll be the strongest God this realm has ever seen! I'm starting now!"
"I'll be right here with you," Loki promised.
For the next five minutes, Loki diligently practiced his footwork, working up a light sweat. Then, once the guards' eyes drifted, he activated his Mirror Image. The "Loki" on the steps continued to offer words of encouragement to Thor, while the real Loki slipped into the shadows, triggering his Wind Walk.
He moved through the palace like a ghost, his heartbeat steady. At the final corridor leading to the Royal Vaults, he touched the obsidian pendant at his neck. His form shifted, stretching and aging until he stood resplendent in gold-plated hunting armor. He didn't just look like Odin; thanks to his Psychic Blueprint, he projected the crushing, heavy aura of the All-Father.
The Einherjar guards at the vault doors didn't even hesitate. They knelt, their spears clattering against the floor in salute.
Loki didn't speak. He simply summoned a spectral imitation of Gungnir—the Eternal Spear—and struck the base of the vault door. The massive mechanical gears groaned and retracted.
The doors swung open to a literal sea of gold.
Loki stepped inside, his eyes scanning the artifacts of legends. He passed Mjolnir, still waiting for a worthy hand. He passed the Tablet of Life and Time, which contained the formula for the Elixir of Youth (a recipe he'd already swiped from Frigga's library).
He ignored the Casket of Ancient Winters for now—too much baggage. He bypassed the Eye of the Warlock, though its psychic amplification was tempting.
Then, he saw it. The Eternal Flame.
The primal fire of Surtur flickered in its brazier, radiating an ancient, immortal heat. This was the ultimate fuel for his Ember Heart. Without a second thought, he swept his hand across the air, pulling the flame into his Pocket Dimension.
On his way out, he spotted a gold-and-jewel-encrusted gauntlet sitting on a pedestal. He knew it was a fake—a trophy meant to mock the Mad Titan—but the craftsmanship was top-tier. Might as well take the glove, he thought, stashing the "Infinity Gauntlet" away. It'll make a great prop later.
He strode out of the vault, the doors sealing behind him. The guards remained bowed.
Loki had what he wanted, but he wasn't done. He had a point to prove, a mother to avenge for years of neglect, and a "Chaos Meter" that needed to hit the ceiling.
The Grand Plaza of Asgard.
The Royal Guards were assembled for a standard midday drill when "Odin" descended from the palace steps. But this wasn't the stoic, terrifying King they knew.
This Odin was... twitching.
"Attention!" the illusionary Odin barked, his voice rhythmic and strange. He began to twirl the Eternal Spear like a baton, scratching his ribs and grinning at the sky.
The guards exchanged bewildered glances. Was the All-Father... having a stroke?
"Listen up, you overgrown tin cans!" Odin shouted. "The palace is too quiet! The realms are too stiff! Drop your weapons! Every single one of you!"
Clatter. Clang. The guards, bound by magical oaths of obedience, dropped their spears and shields in a heap of confused brass.
"Now! Let me see those hands! To the left! To the right! Sway with the All-Father! Twist! Turn! And... dip!"
Loki began to perform a high-energy, completely unhinged dance routine he remembered from a pop music video in his past life. Because there was no music, the sight of the King of the Gods doing the "Cha-Cha" in total silence was the peak of psychological warfare.
[Chaos Points +500, +500, +500...]
"Royal Father?!" Thor came running into the plaza, Loki's illusionary self trailing behind him.
"Thor! My boy!" The fake Odin beckoned. "You want to be a King? A King must be one with his people! Join the rhythm! One cha-cha, two cha-cha, three!"
Thor, always eager to please, didn't even stop to think. His face turned bright red, but he started swinging his hips in perfect (and terrifying) synchronization with the "King."
"That's it! Everyone! Armor off! If you aren't dancing, you aren't loyal!"
The plaza was a sea of half-naked, rhythmically challenged warriors when the real rainbow bridge flared to life.
Frigga arrived first, her eyes wide with horror. She couldn't see through the mask, but she knew her husband. This wasn't Odin. "Heimdall! Send the children away! Now!"
The Bifrost light engulfed Thor and the real Loki, whisking them to the safety of the training halls just as the actual Odin descended from the sky on his eight-legged steed, Sleipnir.
The God-King stared at the dancing guards, then at the "Odin" on the stage.
"Who are you?!" Odin roared, his voice shaking the foundations of the city.
The illusionary Odin stopped dancing. He looked at the real King and smiled a cold, mocking smile. "I am... Destiny."
With a snap of his fingers, the illusion shattered into a billion golden sparks.
[SUPER CHAOS EVENT TRIGGERED!]
[Rewards: Psychic Mastery Upgraded, Spatial Mastery Upgraded, Divine Body Refinement +10%, 3x Equipment Modification Tokens.]
Loki, tucked safely away in his room, felt the rush of power. It was intoxicating.
Odin was beyond furious. He placed the kingdom under martial law, convinced that a shapeshifting infiltrator from the Dark Elves or the Frost Giants had breached the palace. He doubled the guards, increased training, and prepared for a war that would never come.
Loki had effectively tricked Odin into becoming a better, more vigilant King. A "good deed," in a twisted sort of way.
That year, Loki was six. He had the Eternal Flame in his pocket, a fake gauntlet under his bed, and the most powerful man in the universe looking for a ghost.
"Asgard," Loki whispered to himself, feeling the first embers of the Eternal Flame beginning to fuse with his soul. "Get ready. We're just getting started."
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