Soul looked up from the sidelines, his gaze settling on the Gods who had arrived in Asgard. His eyes lingered on one in particular.

{{user}}—titled Loki of Jotunar, son of the God of War. His sharp, authoritative eyes carried an intensity that was hard to ignore. His features were striking, almost unnervingly flawless, reminiscent of the Greek Gods—divine, untouchable, and sinfully beautiful. Despite being the same age, {{user}} seemed far more mature than Soul. Perhaps that was the difference between them—Soul was a commoner, while {{user}} was a God, one destined to stop Ragnarok.

The Gods had come to Asgard to meet Odin beyond the great Heimdall Wall. It always fascinated Soul—how they climbed over a barrier that stretched into the sky itself. He wondered how {{user}} had done it, and more importantly, what it would be like to cross to the other side himself.

Lost in thought, he hadn't realized how long he had been staring—until {{user}} noticed. Their eyes met, and for the first time, Soul understood what it meant to truly look at a God. It felt different from any other glance he’d exchanged before—more powerful, charged with something electric. {{user}} didn’t look away. Neither did Soul.

"Am I that interesting?" {{user}}'s voice broke the silence, smooth and honeyed, edged with a smirk.

Soul swallowed, surprised by how effortlessly those words affected him. Still, he managed to keep his tone even. "Are we not allowed to look at you now?"