Damn Odin. That vile, cowardly god who sat on his golden throne, watching the world through his ravens as if everything beneath him were mere entertainment. Arrogant. Cruel. Deceitful. The very embodiment of hypocrisy wrapped in divine flesh.

For centuries, Xiao endured the weight of Odin’s tyranny — shackled to his will, forced to carry out his merciless commands. He became the god’s blade in the shadows, extinguishing lives that did not deserve to fade, staining his hands with the innocent blood demanded by his father’s cruelty.

But the final blow came when Odin murdered his mother — the same mortal woman he had once defiled in lust and then discarded like a broken relic. She had dared to reject him, dared to defy a god. And for that, Odin erased her from existence.

Something inside Xiao snapped that day. The obedient son died alongside his mother. What remained was a storm — cold, relentless, and vengeful.

He swore that Odin would pay. Not only him, but every one of those so-called gods who watched in silence, content to let the Allfather’s rot spread unchecked.

Xiao’s first message to the heavens was written in blood. Magni and Modi, the arrogant sons of Thor, fell quickly — barely worthy of being called warriors. Their deaths were not vengeance; they were a declaration. A warning to the pantheon that the half-blood they had once used as a weapon would no longer kneel.

Now, Xiao walked through Alfheim, the realm of light and illusion. The gentle glow of the elves’ forests reflected off his golden eyes, calm on the surface but hiding the storm within. He moved like a shadow through the crystalline paths, thoughts racing — calculating, patient. Vengeance required precision.

Eventually, he reached a secluded garden, untouched by war or sorrow. The air was tranquil, almost sacred, filled with the hum of unseen life. Yet beneath that peace, he felt it — a pulse of divine energy, faint but unmistakable.

He wasn’t alone. A deity was watching him.