The teleportation magic deposited us in a courtyard of white stone that gleamed under a sky I'd never seen before. The air tasted different here—sharper, charged with something that made the hair on my arms stand up. Everything about this place felt older, heavier with history and power.
Two figures approached from the main hall. I recognized Rossweisse immediately—silver hair tied up, purple eyes behind those distinctive glasses, that teacher-like air about her. She wore Valkyrie armor that managed to look both practical and dignified.
The woman beside her, though, was someone new entirely.
She had purple hair styled in a way that screamed military precision, and her eyes carried the kind of seriousness that made drill sergeants look lenient. The armor she wore was more elaborate than Rossweisse's, marking her clearly as higher rank. Beautiful in that classical way, similar to Grayfia, but where Grayfia had that controlled elegance, this woman radiated pure, uncompromising discipline. Every movement was economical, measured, like she'd calculated the exact energy expenditure and refused to waste a single erg.
"Welcome to Asgard," the purple-haired woman said, her voice formal and clipped. "I am Brynhildr, leader of the Valkyries. Lord Odin has asked us to escort you to Valhalla."
"Grayfia Lucifuge," my companion responded with a slight bow. "I serve as bodyguard to Akira-san during this visit."
"Akira," I added. Brynhildr's eyes fixed on me for a moment.
"Akira-san!" Rossweisse's formal composure cracked slightly as she smiled. "It's good to see you again."
"Rossweisse," I said, genuinely happy to see a familiar face. "How's Odin treating you? I asked him to take better care of you when we last met."
Her expression shifted immediately—that mix of resignation and exhaustion that came from dealing with the same problem too many times. She sighed heavily. "Lord Odin hasn't changed at all. Just last week, he spent all my money at those... clubs... again."
*Of course he did. Old pervert never changes.*
Brynhildr coughed sharply. Rossweisse straightened immediately, her professional mask snapping back into place.
"My apologies," Brynhildr said stiffly, though her tone suggested she was apologizing for the breach in protocol rather than Odin's behavior. "We should not keep Lord Odin waiting."
She raised her hand and a massive blue magic circle materialized beneath the four of us. The symbols carved into it were Norse runes, far more complex than anything I'd seen in devil magic. The patterns seemed alive, shifting and breathing with power.
Blue light swallowed us.
The teleportation felt different from devil magic—rougher, like being yanked through space by something that prioritized speed over comfort. When the light died down, we stood inside a hall that made every other building I'd seen look like a shed.
Valhalla.
The ceiling stretched up so high I couldn't see the end, lost in shadows and what might have been actual sky. Massive pillars lined both sides, carved with battle scenes and victories. The floor was polished stone that reflected the torchlight. Everything about this place radiated age and power.
Valkyries stood at attention along the walls, their armor gleaming. Mixed among them were Aesir gods—taller than humans, carrying themselves with the confidence of the functionally immortal. Some looked at me with curiosity. Others had challenge in their eyes. But I didn't feel hostility, not the sharp-edged kind I'd gotten used to from other factions.
*Finally. A race that doesn't immediately want me dead for existing. That's progress.*
At the far end of the hall, Odin seated on his throne. He looked exactly as I remembered—one eye, white beard with nonchalant smile.
One step below his throne, three more seats held three figures I was told about by Grayfia.
The first one radiated warmth. Literally. Golden-blond hair, handsome features that belonged on recruitment posters, build that suggested both strength and grace. His white and gold armor caught the light. Everything about him screamed approachable hero. When he noticed my attention, he smiled, and it felt genuine.
*Has to be Baldur. The beloved son.*
Next to him sat a man who looked like violence personified. Massive build, muscles that came from actual use rather than show. Red hair, fierce eyes that assessed me the way a warrior assessed opponents. The hammer beside his throne was unmistakable—Mjolnir. The weapon that had killed giants and defended realms. He was grinning at me, the expression of someone who'd found something interesting.
*Thor. God of thunder and property damage.*
The third figure was quieter, easier to miss between Baldur's charisma and Thor's overwhelming presence. Dark hair streaked with gray, silent and observant. His armor was well-worn, practical. He sat with perfect stillness, but there was something dangerous in that quiet—like a blade waiting in its sheath.
*Vidar. The silent god.*
"Welcome, young Akira," Odin's voice carried through the hall without effort. "It pleases me to see you've accepted my invitation."
Thor leaned forward before I could respond, eyes locked on me with unsettling intensity. "I feel great levels of strength from you," he said, his voice like thunder rolling. "I wish to fight you. Test your mettle in proper combat."
Vidar sighed—the sound of someone who'd heard this before. "Brother, he is a guest. Conduct yourself appropriately."
Baldur stood smoothly, drawing attention without seeming to try. His smile was warm, genuine. "Forgive my brother's enthusiasm. Allow me to introduce us properly. I am Baldur." He gestured to the silent god. "This is Vidar, god of vengeance and silence." Then he indicated Thor with a gesture that managed to be both respectful and long-suffering. "And this is Thor, god of thunder. He means no disrespect—he simply expresses interest through battle."
Something about the directness appealed to me. After all the political games with other factions, this was refreshing. "I don't mind at all," I said honestly. "Crossing weapons with someone as legendary as Thor himself would be an honor. I'd actually appreciate the opportunity."
Thor threw his head back and laughed, the sound booming through Valhalla like actual thunder. "I love the battle spirit in this one!" His hand reached for Mjolnir beside him. "Let us fight now! I wish to see what you're made of!"
The temperature dropped.
Grayfia's demonic power exploded outward like a physical shockwave. The pressure of it made the air feel thick, heavy. Valkyries stiffened, several shivered despite themselves. Aesir gods shifted stances, recognizing the threat. Rossweisse and Brynhildr both took half-steps back. The power radiating from Grayfia wasn't hostile exactly, but it carried a clear message: *I am prepared to act.*
"With all due respect," Grayfia said, her voice perfectly polite and absolutely immovable, "I am tasked by Lord Sirzechs to ensure no harm befalls Akira-san. I will do my utmost to fulfill this duty."
*Oh hell.*
*This is going south fast.*
Every eye in Valhalla was on Grayfia now. This devil who'd just challenged the god of thunder through sheer presence. Thor looked more intrigued than offended, his hand still on Mjolnir's handle. The hall had gone completely silent.
*Before this turns into a troublesome incident—*
"Now, now," Odin's voice cut through the tension casually. "There's no need for concern, Lady Grayfia. Young Akira is a respected guest in our realm. His safety is guaranteed by our hospitality." He fixed Thor with a look that carried the weight of millennia. "Thor. Conduct yourself properly."
Thor pulled his hand back from Mjolnir, still grinning but clearly recognizing an order. "As you command, All-Father."
The pressure eased immediately. Grayfia's power retracted, though I could feel her readiness hadn't diminished.
"Brynhildr," Odin continued, "escort our guests to their quarters. They should rest after their journey."
Brynhildr stepped forward with a crisp bow. "Of course, Lord Odin. This way, please."
As we left the hall, I couldn't help my thoughts.
*Well, there goes my chance at a gacha ticket for impressing them. Nothing like your bodyguard nearly starting a war to kill the mood.*
Still, I knew this wasn't finished. Thor wanted to fight, I'd agreed, and in Norse culture that was practically a binding contract. It was only a matter of time before we crossed weapons.
*Actually... I'm looking forward to it.*
. . .
The room Brynhildr showed us to was impressive in that functional Norse way.
Stone walls hung with tapestries depicting various battles. A massive bed made from dark wood, covered in thick furs. A fireplace that burned without smoke, Norse runes carved around it for enchantments. Simple wooden furniture built to last centuries. Everything spoke of quality and permanence.
I sat on the bed, testing it. Firm but comfortable.
"That went well," I said, unable to keep the sarcasm completely out. "A few minutes in Asgard and we almost started trouble."
Grayfia had taken the chair near the fire, sitting with that perfect posture that somehow still looked natural. "It was necessary."
"Was it though?" I asked. "I could have—"
"Thor once destroyed half of Asgard during a 'spar' with his brother Baldur," Grayfia interrupted, her tone still perfectly polite. "He does not hold back when battle fever takes him. It is his nature as the god of thunder and storms."
*Okay, that's concerning.*
"The Norse value hospitality," I pointed out. "Odin wouldn't let his guest get seriously hurt."
"I understand what you're saying," Grayfia replied. "But I have a duty to Lord Sirzechs and to you. The Norse gods, specifically Thor, are known for their... enthusiasm in combat. I cannot rely solely on others' restraint when your safety is my responsibility."
I couldn't really argue with that. From her perspective, she'd just done her job.
"I'm hungry," I said, changing the subject. "Could you get us something to eat?"
Grayfia nodded, standing gracefully. "Brynhildr mentioned we should contact her if we needed anything. I'll speak with her."
A magic circle appeared beneath her feet and she vanished.
*Well. That happened.*
I sat there processing everything. Arrived in Asgard, met legendary gods, almost caused an incident, now sitting in a room in Valhalla. Standard supernatural diplomacy.
But now I had time. Time Grayfia thought I'd spend resting.
I had other plans.
Standing from the bed, I focused on that familiar pull, the connection to another world entirely. The portal to the Demon Slayer world—I'd unlocked it but hadn't really explored yet. Between constant threats and supernatural politics, I hadn't had the chance.
But with the time-stop effect, I could spend hours there and return to this exact moment.
The portal materialized in my room, swirling energy that felt different from devil magic or Norse runes. I stepped toward it.
"Time for an actual vacation instead of constantly hunting or being hunted by something."
I stepped through.
. . .
Asakusa District, Tokyo.
The night air hit me first—cool, carrying scents of food and smoke and humanity packed together. Lanterns illuminated the streets, casting everything in warm light. People moved through the district in their evening clothes, the sounds of conversation and laughter mixing with distant music from establishments.
It was peaceful. Normal. No supernatural threats, no political maneuvering, just regular human life going about its business.
I started walking, taking in the atmosphere. The architecture was distinctly Taisho era—wooden buildings, traditional designs, everything built on a human scale. Street vendors called out their wares, restaurants emanated delicious smells, couples walked together enjoying the evening.
*This is nice. Just... existing without worrying about something trying to kill me.*
I wasn't paying enough attention to where I was going. Got caught up in observing everything, the novelty of just being a person in a crowd rather than a target or political piece.
Which is why I didn't notice the woman until I'd already collided with her.
She stumbled backward. Instinct kicked in—I caught her before she could fall, steadying her with a hand on her arm.
"Watch where you're walking!" A young man's voice, sharp with anger.
I looked up to see a boy, maybe late teens, glaring at me with genuine fury. He had green eyes and black hair, dressed in traditional clothing. He'd moved to shield the woman I'd nearly knocked over.
The woman herself was stunning in an understated way. Dark brown hair styled in a traditional bun decorated with flowers, gentle purple eyes, delicate features. She wore a checkered kimono in purple and white. Everything about her radiated calm and dignity.
"I'm sorry," I said immediately, releasing her arm once I was sure she was steady. "I'm new to this town and I got distracted by... well, everything. The district is beautiful. I didn't mean to be careless."
The woman smiled slightly, that gentle expression that suggested genuine kindness. "It's quite alright. No harm done."
The young man—Yushiro, I assumed, given his protective stance—still looked ready to start something. "You should pay more attention."
"You're absolutely right," I agreed, not wanting to escalate. "Again, my apologies. I saved her from falling but I shouldn't have created the situation in the first place."
The woman—Tamayo, had to be—studied me with those calm purple eyes. There was something assessing in that gaze, though not hostile. More... curious.
"Are you visiting Asakusa?" she asked politely.
"Just arrived," I said honestly. "Taking in the sights. It's a beautiful district."
Before the conversation could continue, there was a commotion from down the street. Shouting, the sound of something breaking. People started moving away from whatever was happening, that instinctive crowd response to danger.
A figure emerged from an alley—a man, but wrong. His movements were jerky, inhuman. His face was contorted, mouth opened too wide, eyes reflecting the lantern light with an unnatural gleam. He lunged at the nearest person, claws that definitely weren't human reaching out.
Another figure appeared, moving fast. Green and black checkered haori, red hair, sword already drawn. The blade flashed in the lantern light.
The transformed man—demon, clearly a demon—lashed out. But the red-haired swordsman was already moving, adjusting his stance, redirecting the demon's momentum. In seconds, he had the thing restrained, using some kind of technique that didn't rely purely on strength.
Tanjiro. That was definitely Tanjiro.
Tamayo and Yushiro had both gone still, watching the scene with expressions I couldn't quite read.
The demon struggled against Tanjiro's hold, snarling and snapping, but the young Demon Slayer held firm, calling out for assistance from someone.
I stood there in the Asakusa street, watching a demon being restrained by the protagonist of this world, standing next to two demons who were probably the most important allies he'd make.
*Well. So much for a relaxing vacation.*
. . .
Read upto 20 chapters at pa-tr-eon /opeler
Check out my pa-tr-eon, if you find it interesting do join or support me
Enjoy!