https://youtu.be/59Ri26PIOLs

Deep in Midgard was a round table. Crafted from the finest, blackest of woods, the table sat exactly in the middle of a dimly lit room with a half-working chandelier hanging above it.

The room itself had a black wooden floor, but the walls were covered in a plain grey wallpaper, with a few bookshelves and a large, silver-coloured potted plant in the corner. A perfectly mundane room that seemingly served no purpose but to allow villains an appropriate place to scheme.

And scheme, they did. As Anwin, dressed in his black robe and his clown makeup, swung open the door, shaped like half a pill and grey as ash, he walked into the room, greeted by three, very different individuals sitting around the table. A friendly, toothy smile on his face, he was the first to speak, waving at them as he announced, "Hey, bitches, what's up?"

"Hah! You think that an adequate greeting? Stay your tongue, ifrit."

The first one to speak was a hulking man dressed in bulky plate armour, evoking the image of a red dragon. His glowing red eyes were mostly obscured by his long, messy bangs, as well as his long, shaggy mass of red hair. As he gave Anwin a contemptuous glare, the robed ifrit simply shrugged. "Alright, sorry." he rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Sheesh, who yarfed in your porridge?"

"If you have nothing useful to say," the draconic-looking man growled. "Then I must ask you to be silent! Your voice alone makes me want to find whatever village you came from and raze it to the ground!"

Anwin raised his arms defensively, wondering what he had done to warrant this response. Was it because he took the last piece of chicken the other day? But he had called dibs, so that didn't make any sense. As he slowly made it to the fourth seat, he couldn't help but think "You're a few years too late for that." as he sat down in his seat.

"Hey, Fafnir, mind not being a jerk for once? He didn't even do anything!"

Another voice, this one lively and high-pitched, and Anwin and Fafnir turned to face the speaker - a fair-skinned blonde woman looking around the same age as Anwin. Her long hair was tied up into a high ponytail, and her eyes were blue as a summer sky. Her slender frame wore a blue shirt over a yellow jacket and matching slacks. One noticeable feature was a point in her ears, like those of an elf.

Anwin chuckled quietly, lounging in his seat. "Don't mind him, Aleron. He's just upset that I'm cooler than him."

"As if!" Fafnir spat. "I'm just tired of seeing you continuing to disappoint me with every waking moment! I bet you didn't even bring the witch!"

"You never know, maybe she's just hiding." Aleron suggested, smiling hopefully. "Right, Anwin?"

"Nope." Anwin said nonchalantly, much to Aleron's disappointment and Fafnir's rage.

"Aww, what? You're kidding me, right?"

"It's as I said: disappointing! An utter failure!" Fafnir roared, unsettling the other two with his sheer volume. "Are any of us shocked? I wouldn't be surprised if he fled before her might with his tail between his legs!"

"You don't know that, so stop being an ass, will you?"

"Once Anwin stops making an ass of himself, perhaps I will consider it!"

"WHY ARE WE ALL YELLING?"

"You! When will you learn your lesson and stop yammering about, you utter-"

Before he could finish that, a loud slamming sound echoed across the room, silencing the dispute as if by compulsion. The three of them looked towards the source of the noise, and they saw it in the form of their fourth member, sitting at the end of the table; a tall man dressed in a sleek suit of black and white armour, his gauntleted hand on the table in front of him, and his expression indeterminate thanks to the masked, black-horned helmet covering his face while long black hair flowed down his back.

"Anwin has been a dutiful Hel's Angel all this time," a calm, deep and mildly reverberating voice spoke, compelling everyone to listen. "A single failure does not erase all that he has brought to our cause."

"Bah! What has he done that I couldn't?" Fafnir interjected, but the masked man, seemingly calm, sat back, looking directly at Fafnir.

"Anwin possesses a certain charisma that makes him a skilled negotiator. This is why he, and not you, was sent on this mission." he said. "If it is constructive criticism you are after, I may also add that he holds a greater sense of team spirit and camaraderie than you do."

"That doesn't say much, though!" Aleron added cheekily, and Fafnir could only glare at her before looking down, stewing in his own little pool of misery. Anwin snickered slightly, but quickly straightened up when he felt the masked man's gaze on him.

"Of course, knowing this only fills me with curiosity." he told him coolly. "Tell me, Anwin, how did you end up failing?"

"Turns out the Knights beat me to the ruins." Anwin wasted no time in offering his explanation. "Course, I could easily dispatch most of them, but there was this one asshole - think he was their commander or something - who was way stronger than me. I had to fall back before I could even meet the witch."

"A powerful commander...in those ruins. You must have encountered Svafrlami." the masked man mused, as Anwin looked back and remembered his sadistic smirk. "You were lucky to escape with your life."

"You bet! I've heard all sorts of things about that commander, and none of them good." Aleron added, shaking her head quickly.

"And what does this mean for us?" Fafnir questioned, rapping his finger across his section of the table. "Sounds like thanks to this guy, we have a powerful enemy now!"

"Oi, fuck off, will ya?" Anwin rolled his eyes in frustration.

"Fafnir does have a point." the masked man stated calmly. "With Fenrir decommissioned and the einherjar onto us, we find ourselves in a rather tight spot."

"So what do we do about this, Ragnar?" Aleron asked, frowning slightly before suddenly becoming rather excited. "Ooh, are we about to mount an attack on Asgard?"

This was met with a chuckle from Anwin, a glare from Fafnir, and nothing but silence from the masked man, Ragnar. "Easy, tiger, put the bloodlust away." the robed clown spoke up. "Even I can tell that's a silly idea!"

"In our current state, such a plan is doomed to fail." Ragnar lamented, shaking his head. "Since the plot is taking place, there is no better time than now to become active."

"It's about time we did a little more, I say." Fafnir took in a deep breath, closing his eyes before letting out a mean, almost savage-looking smile. "So, where do you want me to send my dragons? Just point me to the right place and I'll freeze it to the ground!"

"If you could stay your hand for a moment longer. The time for destruction has not yet come." Ragnar raised a hand, and at once Fafnir's excitement vanished. "What we need are bases of operation; places to attack from, to gather souls and monitor the happenings of Midgard so we may plan our next move."

As if he weren't wearing a full suit of armour, he quickly thrust his hand out, pointing towards the two younger attendees. "Anwin, Aleron!" he announced, and at once they sat up, giving him their undivided attention. "I want the two of you to assemble your troops and conquer as many settlements as you can! Am I understood?"

"Yes, Sir Ragnar!" Aleron announced, saluting loyally while Anwin audibly sighed, stretching his arms above his head.

"More work, how thrilling." he said drily, putting his arms back down by his side and lounging back in his seat. "But, sure, I'll do it."

"Excellent." Ragnar told them. "I would advise you start as soon as possible, but you are, of course, free to start whenever you're ready."

"Got it. I'll probably be ready by tomorrow morning, methinks." Anwin stuck his thumb up, smiling wryly, and Aleron nodded in agreement.

Ragnar nodded at that, slowly rising to his feet as he looked down on the other three. "Then this meeting is dismissed. I wish you both the best of luck on your coming mission."

Watching him leave, Anwin and Aleron also began to stand up, walking out through the door and leaving a seemingly very cross Fafnir alone. They had a big day ahead of them, it seemed, and they needed to make sure they were prepared.

.........

https://youtu.be/Id77VZ4aeps

Hallowed halls, draped in white. Sky-high pillars, evenly spaced and extending past the immeasurably high arched ceiling. The walls were crafted in a milky white chalk with a black marbling pattern all over it that somehow looked natural, and enclosed the room like a tunnel. Lacking a carpet, the ground was instead covered with a white, cloud-like mist, turning the atmosphere heavenly or ghostly. But, wait a minute; haven't we been here before?

Anwin certainly hadn't. Standing at one end of the tunnel, dressed in an outfit different from his usual robes, he crossed his arms, his orange eyes narrowed in confusion. He wore an orange-and-black striped shirt with an orange scarf and a black jacket and trousers. Around his neck and wrists he wore plenty of ornate jewellery to go with his earrings, and it could be seen clearly that his nails were painted black.

And yet, despite being dressed to entertain, he didn't look all that amused right now. He stared at the stained-glass mural at the other side, depicting an orange savannah with a tiger lurking within, with whatever light shone through at the other side giving the room a noticeable tangerine glow. Stretching his arms and yawning, he observed his unfamiliar surroundings closely.

"Well, there's one conclusion to be drawn here..." he murmured. "This is definitely not my bedroom."

It was strange to him. He'd woken up, showered and gotten dressed as normal. Then he stepped out of the bathroom, and before he knew it, he was sneak-attacked by a bright light, and now he was here. Anwin stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Hello? Anyone in here?"

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Anwin von Brandt!" a high-pitched, feminine voice spoke to him, causing him to raise an eyebrow. "I've been waiting for you."

"And who the fuck is this?" Anwin questioned, fiddling with one of his bangles. "And alternatively, where the fuck is this?"

"Language! I swear, all you non-Aesir are so fucking vulgar!" the woman scolded him, and Anwin could only assume she was being ironic. "Now, answer time! I'm Sunna, goddess of the Sun, and you're in the Hall of the Myriad Might!"

"Heh, is that right?" Anwin chuckled, looking around at his heavenly surroundings. "Did you take me to Asgard for this? Because I think that might be useful."

"Nope, even better." Sunna corrected him. "This place is in Ginnungagap, the place where lost human souls come to be judged and be reborn in one of the other realms!"

Anwin nodded at that. Though this hall was certainly new to him, he had been judged in Ginnungagap once. The god in charge of that went on about his passion and drive, and the next thing he knew, he was dropped into the Fire Realm, Muspelheim, as an ifrit. Nodding slowly, he looked up. "Sooo...why bring me here, Sunny?"

"Sunna, with an 'a'." Sunna replied, sighing. "You're here to get new powers! It'll make you way more useful, trust me! Oh, and don't tell Freya!"

"If I ever see her, I'll try not to." Anwin chuckled. "But, uh, to get to the heart of my question: why me, Aunna?"

"You seem cool." Sunna responded, unsure whether to be annoyed or amused by this blatant butchering of her name. "I figure this story will get a little more entertaining if I give you a little edge."

"Heh, you seem pretty groovy yourself." Anwin chuckled with a shrug. "Alright, then, gimme the powers. What am I getting?"

"A quiz!"

"Say what?"

"Yeah, that's kinda how things go around here. You can't leave here until you've got the power, and you can't get the power until you answer these questions for me!" Sunna explained cheerily, and as Anwin walked, he began to notice that the mural wasn't getting any closer anymore. "We've gotta determine what your soul looks like, and Myriad Might's gonna shape itself accordingly! So...keep walking."

Anwin made an indiscernible noise and continued walking, though he couldn't help feeling like he was on a treadmill of sorts. He hummed to himself, waiting for a response, and eventually, Sunna spoke up. "Done!" she chirped. "It seems like your soul is one of creativity and blitheness! Now, for the questions! Keep in mind that if you lie, I'm gonna come in there personally and rip your hair out!"

"Couldn't even go for a bigger threat, eh?" Anwin chuckled. "C'mon, that was weaksauce! At least threaten to rip my nuts off or something!"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Sunna taunted, before clearing her throat. "Now, less talking, more walking! It's time to start the Ceremony of the Myriad Might!"

https://youtu.be/MRKJZUq034s

Anwin nodded at that, walking for as long as need be. He'd get those powers, no matter what questions he needed to answer. He looked at the walls, knowing that he was, in fact, progressing through, so the only explanation for the lack of actual progress being made was that the Hall was getting longer, somehow. Curious, he continued, until Sunna came back with her first question.

"Alright, Anwin, first up; whose life do you value more?" she said. "Your own, or those of your allies?"

A simple question, thought Anwin. As he heard it, he flashed back to a certain scene in his past life - a rampaging, hideous sciurine demon, and Anwin alone, kneeling on the ground, completely at its mercy. He remembered on that day, that he felt no regret; only satisfaction. Returning to reality, he looked back ahead and said, "My allies. Definitely."

"Ooh, how noble." Sunna said almost flatly, and for a short amount of time, Anwin saw the mural moving closer as he approached it. It did stop after a while, and Anwin took this to mean that Sunna had another question.

"Next up!" she announced, and Anwin looked up, awaiting the next one. "What is the meaning of sacrifice? What is it to you?"

"Want me to get wordy, huh?" Anwin sighed, playing with his necklace before taking his hands off it. "Well, I guess sacrifice is when you give something up to gain something else. But, if you ask me, it doesn't count as sacrifice unless what you're giving up really matters to you - like your life."

"Sounds good enough. And, my, what a lead-in!" Sunna said, watching as Anwin grew closer still to the artwork. "Because my next question is this; what's the most you're willing to sacrifice for the sake of someone you love?"

"Hmm...love is a strong word, but I think I did have someone like that." Anwin mused, looking down to the ground. "For someone I really care about...I guess I'd have to put my life on the line. And my life is pretty awesome, you know."

"You know...that's a pretty classic answer to that question. Just about anyone would say the same thing." Sunna replied thoughtfully. "But very few of them mean it. So...congrats on being unique. And corny, like, completely unironically."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Anwin shrugged, looking back to the ground, and as he watched his feet moving as he walked, he began to wonder if big clown shoes would be at all a good addition to his aesthetic. Probably not. "So, next question?"

"Ahem, of course." Sunna said, observing as Anwin suddenly stopped moving, stepped backwards, and started sprinting. "...what the hell are you doing?"

"Testing this little moving painting." Anwin replied, his eyes on the goal as he began moving at a regular speed again. "And damn, it's good."

"...right." Sunna deadpanned. "In any case, here's question four! Do you, Anwin von Brandt, believe that there's any goal that's not worth making sacrifices for?"

"Yeah, the evil ones." Anwin said almost instantly afterwards. "If you're trying to make the world better, then sacrifice as much as you want and be prepared for adversity. But if you're just a power-grabbing despot or destroyer, then also be prepared for adversity, because you're kind of an asshole."

"Well said." Sunna hummed, and Anwin watched as the mural grew even closer. He was almost at the exit, but then it stopped, and he sighed, knowing immediately that it was time for the last question. "Final question! Ready to be rocked to your core?"

"...that's not the question, right?"

"No, of course not!" Sunna chuckled. "No, your last question is as follows; Anwin von Brandt-"

"You can drop the surname, by the way!"

"Shut uuuupp!" Sunna yelled exaggeratedly before clearing her throat. "Now, then. Anwin von Brandt, tell me - have you regretted any of the sacrifices you've ever had to make?"

Anwin frowned at that, looking around at the surroundings before facing the tiger portrait. "...can't say I have." he sighed. "I've done a lot of bad stuff. Even if it was for a good cause, I'll admit to that much. But I can't really call them sacrifices, can I? Unless you count my morals, it's not like I had to give anything up."

"Hmm...are you sure you're the bad guy here?"

"Probably." Anwin shrugged, walking towards the portrait, placing his hand on the glass as the structure began crumbling before his eyes. "But, hey. Good, bad, it's all relative. Just gotta do what you've gotta do."

As he said that, the portrait shattered completely, and he could see the evening sky gazing at him with its harsh yet beautiful glow. But he didn't dare look away, for by looking at it, he felt a great power welling up inside his body. He held his arms out, basking in the light as he heard Sunna speak.

"The Myriad Might has spoken, Anwin, and its power is now yours! By this sacred light, I bestow upon you a teeming flame, so you will always have an ally to fight by your side, and help you to achieve your goals!" she announced, and as he listened, he saw the Hall fading away, becoming transparent until he was left in a white limbo. "This is the power of the Untamed Flame, and now, it is yours!"

Anwin grinned to himself, feeling the power coursing through him like an inferno contained by his body alone. He closed his eyes, clutching his chest as he felt Sunna's presence fade. Opening his eyes, he was back in his room - black curtains and carpet, orange bedding, a few books and papers scattered on the desk, and the orange door. Sitting on the bed was what he was certain was an apparition - a dark-skinned young man with short, scruffy blond hair and green eyes, waving at him cheerfully.

"Good morning, Anwin! Ready for another day?"

Sighing, he summoned one of his knives and telekinetically threw it at the figure, causing it to dissipate. He was too used to this by now, and as he excised it from his mind, he didn't pay it a second thought, turning his back to his bed with a bothered expression.

"Welp...better go meet with Aleron. We've got settlements to capture."

With that in mind, he left the room, setting out to find his elven compatriot. It was time to go, after all, and he had just the right place in mind.