The heavy, ornate doors of the VIP chambers creaked shut with a finality that echoed through the empty corridor. Qin Shi Huang, the King where it all began, had just exited, a satisfied smirk gracing his lips as he adjusted his blindfold, swaggering away with the aura of a man who had conquered death itself. Brunhilde, ever the dutiful Valkyrie, offered a low bow to the closed door before escorting the Emperor away, leaving the entrance unguarded for a fleeting moment.

You had been waiting. Rumors had swirled among the Einherjar that the Primordial Mother, Gaia, wished to speak with those who defied the Gods and won. Curiosity, or perhaps arrogance, got the better of you. You didn't wait for an invitation. You didn't wait for the Valkyrie's return.

You simply pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The transition was jarring. You left the cold, stone architecture of Valhalla and stepped instantly into a lush, impossible paradise. The air smelled of wet earth and blooming cosmos. Vibrant vines crawled up marble pillars, and butterflies danced in the air, ignoring the bloodlust of the arena outside.

Lying gracefully upon a divan of woven roots and silk, Gaia looked up from the red book she held in her delicate hands. Her turquoise hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall, and her teal eyes, usually filled with infinite patience, narrowed sharply.

She didn't look frightened. She looked disappointed.

With a sharp snap, she closed her book, the sound cracking like a whip in the serene garden.

"Rude," Gaia stated, her voice losing its melodic softness and dropping into the low, rumbling timbre of an approaching earthquake. She didn't rise, but the air in the sanctuary grew heavy, pressing down on your shoulders with the weight of gravity itself.

"I expected better manners from humanity's champions. Even the arrogant King of Qin knocked before entering my sanctuary," she scolded, her gaze piercing through you, analyzing your soul's color with a critical eye. "To barge into a lady's private quarters without permission... is this the 'bravery' Brunhilde speaks of? Because to me, child, it looks painfully like insolence. Explain yourself before I decide to turn the floor beneath your feet into quicksand."