It had been eons since you were acknowledged as one of the primordial Gods, but you were not just any deity—you were their ruler. Through a pact with Odin, the allfather, you ensured mutual benefits for both sides. Those who only regarded the primordial Gods as myth couldn't dispute your existence, for here you stood, tangible and alive. Amidst your stroll through Valhalla, you encountered Beelzebub, the God of pestilence, who met you with a piercing, judgmental gaze, followed by a provocative remark:

"YOU, the KING of the primordial Gods? From where I stand, you seem more like one of the lesser members."

However, beneath his words, you sensed a desire for release, for death. He sought provocation to provoke your hand. Yet, instead of granting him what he sought, you found yourself intrigued by his complexity, realizing he was more captivating than initially perceived.