…
After finishing his "greeting" with Loki, Leon returned to his chambers, intending to have Eve massage the stiffness from his muscles.
She was still fast asleep from exhaustion.
With a quiet sigh of regret, he gave her a few playful squeezes of what he privately called "Leon's Grip" as consolation before leaving her to rest.
Just as he stepped out, considering which familiar Asgardian lady he might visit for a proper spa session, Odin's voice echoed beside his ear:
"Leon. Come to the Vault."
"On my way."
Leon's eyes lit up with anticipation.
Something better was coming, wasn't it?
Odin's Vault
Descending the staircase, the first thing Leon saw at the end of the corridor was the restored Casket of Ancient Winters.
Odin, clad in full regalia, stood nearby holding Gungnir. His back was turned. Golden divine energy flowed steadily from his raised hand into the grid structure behind the Casket—he appeared to be restoring the Destroyer Armor.
Along both sides of the corridor rested relics of legend:
The Orb of Agamotto, the Tablet of Life and Time, the Eternal Flame, the Infinity Gauntlet… and many more.
"Father."
Leon stepped forward respectfully.
Without turning, Odin asked calmly,
"Frigga has requested that I grant you a divine weapon. What do you desire?"
"Leon seeks nothing. I leave the choice to you, Father."
"Your divine weapon should be of your own choosing."
"In that case…" Leon glanced at the treasures lining the Vault. "May I take them all?"
He figured that when Ragnarök arrived, many of these artifacts would be lost anyway. Better they end up in his hands.
Even Odin paused at that.
Turning slowly, his single eye narrowed.
"Child… you ask for much."
Leon met his gaze evenly, unflinching.
At worst, he'd get beaten up and go running to Frigga afterward.
Silence filled the Vault.
Only the soft hum of divine energy persisted.
Then—
Hum—
The lattice at the far end opened. The towering Destroyer Armor strode forward with imposing presence.
The golden light in Odin's hand faded. His cloak stirred though no wind blew.
"Bring the Casket," Odin said simply.
With his free hand, he lifted the Eternal Flame from its resting place.
Then he strode out.
The Destroyer followed like a sentinel.
Leon blinked.
Does that mean… they're mine?
Shrugging, he hoisted the Casket of Ancient Winters by one handle and followed.
Outside the Vault, Odin had already mounted Sleipnir, heading toward the Bifrost Observatory without waiting.
Leon summoned Bast.
"Meow?"
She appeared in her small feline form, still half-asleep, lazily licking her paw.
"Shift. I need a ride."
He tossed her forward by the scruff.
"Ah? Oh—"
Still groggy, she instinctively transformed—only to drop into an awkward crawling posture.
"Not that form."
Leon gave her a firm squeeze of Leon's Grip.
Bast jolted fully awake, face flushed, and instantly shifted into her majestic Black Panther form.
Leon mounted her and quickly caught up to Odin.
Odin glanced at Bast and gave a faint smile.
"Fine mount. I see no need to prepare you another."
"Hardly compares to yours," Leon replied humbly.
Sleipnir snorted, vapor streaming from its nostrils—
Then surged forward.
Bast growled and accelerated in response.
In the blink of an eye, they arrived at the Bifrost Observatory.
By sheer speed alone, Bast edged ahead.
"Heimdall," Odin called.
The ever-watchful guardian stood ready, Skurge at his side.
"Open the Bifrost. Leon and I are bound for Nidavellir."
Heimdall's gaze flicked briefly to the Eternal Flame, the Casket, and the looming Destroyer behind them.
He asked no questions.
The sword-key slid into place.
Boom—
The Rainbow Bridge ignited, enveloping Odin, Leon, and their entourage in radiant energy before hurling them across the cosmos.
Skurge leaned closer.
"What do you think they're planning, bringing all that to the dwarves?"
Heimdall did not remove his hands from the sword.
"What is not your concern should not be asked. Guard the Bridge."
"…Right."
Skurge returned to polishing his twin rifles, "Des" and "Troy."
Nidavellir
In an instant, the Bifrost delivered them across unimaginable light-years to the dwarven realm of the Nine Realms.
The colossal Stellar Forge dominated the void—a ringed construct harnessing the power of a dying star.
The arrival of the Bifrost's energy flare drew the attention of over three hundred dwarves laboring along the iron star-rings.
Persecuted across the Nine Realms for their unparalleled craftsmanship, they survived under Asgard's protection.
In gratitude, they devoted their entire race's forging genius to crafting divine weapons for Asgard—leaving an indelible mark on mythic history.
"King Odin."
"And this must be the one who slew Laufey—God of Battle, Leon Stark Odinson."
"I am Eitri, King of the Dwarves. My people and I praise your strength and valor."
Eitri and his kin bowed in solemn respect.
Leon smiled warmly.
"Eitri—and masters of the forge—your strength and craftsmanship are equally worthy of legend."
"No other race in the Nine Realms could turn a dying star into a forge."
"It is both madness—and greatness."
Among allies, mutual praise was simply good manners.
And these steadfast, iron-willed dwarves—arguably the hardest-working craftsmen in the Nine Realms—truly deserved it.
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