"We actually did it."
Alain let his shoulder sink a little.
Lia smiled, tentative but bright, like she was afraid the world might snatch it away.
"Two out of three truths," she said. "We're almost done!"
He laughed under his breath, exhausted. The word done sounded strange here. It wasn't easy by any means, but still it felt too…clean.
The sky above them was clear. Even the mist around the courtyard thinned until the stones gleamed like they were being washed by light.
"Yeah, but let's not get ahead of ourselves, there're always—"
Alain couldn't finish his sentence.
A ripple of pressure swept through the courtyard.
Lia froze. "What was—"
The sky lurched. Clouds streaked past in reverse, shadows racing across the floor. The sound of bells, footsteps, voices—everything blurred together into a single, deafening rush.
Color drained into motion. Time itself sprinted forward.
The next instant, they were standing in full daylight. The courtyard was dressed for ceremony. Tables lined, servants moving, laughter echoing through marble.
Baldr was alive again. Walking toward them.
He looked perfectly at ease, smiling as if nothing had happened—because, in this version of the world, nothing had.
"You two got ready fast, huh?" he said cheerfully, clasping Alain on the shoulder.
Alain stared at him, throat tight. Lia's fingers trembled around his sleeve.
Behind Baldr, the banners were already being raised. The same light, the same wind, the same day—running ahead without them.
The victory lasted less than a minute. Now they had the last problem to deal with.
Alain blinked. "Uh… yeah. Guess we're early."
"Earlier than usual," Lia added, forcing a laugh.
Smiling wide, Baldr placed an arm on Alain, completely at ease.
"Good! Then enjoy yourselves. It's a perfect day for peace."
He walked off before they could answer.
The moment he turned the corner, Lia's smile fell. "Did we just—"
"Skip an entire morning?" Alain finished quietly. "Yeah. The world just… fast-forwarded."
Lia looked around them, at the tables already set, the servants carrying trays of fruit that hadn't existed a minute ago.
"It's trying to reach the ending faster."
Alain exhaled through his nose, steadying himself.
"Fine. We look for anything different, the Revelation has to have a purpose after all."
They searched because doing nothing felt worse.
Every corridor shone as if it had just been polished. Servants drifted past in soft loops of motion—pouring wine, setting plates, folding the same napkins again and again.
The whole place looked alive, but it moved like memory replaying itself.
Alain stopped one attendant.
"Have you seen anything unusual? Anyone acting out of place?"
The man smiled the same smile they had all practiced. "Everything is as it should be, sir."
He said it twice, word for word, without realizing it.
Across the courtyard Lia cornered a pair of envoys, her questions sharper now, voice shaking from frustration.
"Was anyone arguing this morning? Any rumors, anything at all?"
Both men exchanged a pleasant glance.
"Lord Baldr unites us," one said. "No one would dare disrupt such peace."
Then they turned away, repeating the same step, the same laugh.
Moving through the crowd again, Alain's eyes darted around. Every color looked too clean, every sound rehearsed. Even the breeze seemed to know its cue.
They kept going—questioning cooks, guards, even children helping with decorations. Each answered differently but meant the same thing: nothing is wrong.
Hours passed, though the sun never moved.
By afternoon, Lia sank against a pillar. "We're chasing ghosts."
"Maybe there aren't any." Alain said, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"You don't believe that."
He wanted to. He didn't.
For a while they stood in silence, defeated. Then a servant passed behind them, whispering to another. A name caught in the noise—faint, but new.
He ran to stop them immediately. Through heavy panting, he asked.
"Wait… who did you just say?"
The servant froze, the tray trembling slightly in his hands.
"Lord Hoddr, sir. Arrived this morning. I didn't think he would—"
Lia frowned. "Sorry, who?"
The servant blinked, as if the question itself confused him. "Lord Hoddr. You must have seen him—he's family."
Alain's stomach tightened. "Family?"
"Aye. The quiet one. Stays in the shade most of the time. He doesn't see well."
The man bowed quickly and moved on, leaving the words hanging like something the world had always known and only now remembered to say.
They didn't need to ask for directions.
The moment the servant left, Alain caught sight of him—sitting alone beneath one of the tents prepared for Aesir.
The breeze never touched him. Even the light bent before it reached his seat.
He sat with one hand resting on a cane, the other tracing the edge of the marble bench. His hair was pale as frost, his posture dignified despite the faint tremor of blindness.
Lia slowed beside Alain. "That's him."
"Yeah," Alain murmured.
They crossed the courtyard. The noise around them softened as if muffled by distance. When they stopped a few paces away, Hoddr turned toward them with uncanny precision.
"You walk too carefully," he said. His voice was calm, almost gentle. "People who belong here don't."
Lia hesitated. "We didn't mean to intrude. We just wanted to ask—"
"Why everyone pretends I'm not here?" He smiled faintly. "You wouldn't be the first."
Alain looked immediately at Lia. Reaching a hand into his coat pocket, he pulled out the wilted mistletoe.
Lia caught the message.
"I'm going to be frank, Hoddr. What are your thoughts on Baldr?" Alain asked.
The man didn't hesitate. His answer came quiet, almost weary.
"Jealousy."
They blinked, the answer was as unexpected as the trial itself.
"...Why?" Lia hesitantly questioned.
Hoddr turned his head, even while blind he had an uncanny perception. He looked towards the sky, staring at its center.
"Do you know what it's like to live next to the sun?"
Before any of them could answer, out of the corner of Alain's eye, he had caught it. The Jotnar warrior lined up to take his shot while Baldr stood arms wide.
No, how's that possible? It's too soon.
The charm behind him flared crimson, veins splitting like cracks in glass.
Alain stepped forward, uncertain whether to reach for Hoddr or the charm itself. It was clear that this was the Third Truth.
"Listen to me," Alain said, trying to steady his tone. "You don't hate him. You're just—"
He didn't finish. How could he explain it to someone who might not even be real?
Lia glanced at him, panic in her eyes. "Do we stop him? Or the arrow?"
"I don't know," he whispered, panic kicking in.
The heat thickened. A low hum began in the air, spreading through stone and skin alike. The warrior drew his bow without a sound, movements eerily calm, like he'd done this a thousand times.
Hoddr winced, gripping the edge of the bench. Sightless eye turning toward his brother,
'The world knows," he said softly. "Every time he laughs, it waits for me to answer."
Lia's voice cracked. "Then stop it!"
"I can't."
His voice broke on the words, heavy with a grief that didn't belong to the moment.
The mistletoe charm burst apart, scattering red light. The hum collapsed into a single sound: the whipcrack of a bowstring.
Alain lunged forward on instinct, hand outstretched, but the world moved faster than him.
The arrow streaked across the courtyard. As it flew, the air itself carved a rune into its tip—a jagged line of red, burning into shape as if the world wanted it named.
ᚻ — Hagalaz
Baldr's laughter died mid-breath.
Light scattered like ash across the marble. The world paused, as if waiting for something to change.
Alain…blinked.
***
The sound of fire crackling returned first. Then the smell of wood.
He was sitting again—same wooden bench, same ruined city, the same gray sky yawning above.
Only this time, Lia was beside him.
She sat slouched forward, hair falling over her eyes, hands shaking faintly against her knees.
"Fuck!" Alain's voice cracked out of him before he could stop it. He slammed his clenched fist against the bench.
"We almost had it! We were so close!"
Lia didn't flinch. She just stared at the empty courtyard.
"You saw it too," she said quietly. "Baldr didn't even give his speech, the arrow just…fired."
He turned to her, desperate, eyes wide.
"I did! How do we even stop that? Tell me what we're supposed to do! How do we even stop something that's inevitable in the first place?"
Lia flinched. Just a small motion, but enough.
The sound snapped him back. His breath hitched, anger leaking into exhaustion.
"I—" He stopped, staring at his trembling hands. "I didn't mean to—"
She shook her head quickly.
"I know." Her voice was thin, careful. 'I just… I don't know how much more of this we can take."
He looked at her then—eyes red, breath uneven—and something inside him tilted the wrong way.
"Then we keep going," he said. "Until something works."
Lia lifted her gaze, startled. "Alain—"
"If the world wants to end the same way," he whispered, almost smiling, "we find that same formula."
He stood up, looking at his right hand.
"Revelation, retry one more time."
[Confirmed. Retry initiated.]
Alain and Lia blipped, their heat still warm on the half-melted bench.
[Corruption Level: 10%]