Blader was caught up in the charge and he rushed toward the jotuns and undead warriors of Loki's army. He heard the battle cries rising up behind him, surging to meet him from his opponents, and let out a yell himself, surprised at how much emotion could emerge from his hoarse throat.

There was pain, and anger, and sorrow, and determination, and Blader felt adrenaline sweeping through him as he realized this would make or break him in the Reenactment. For no matter who was controlling this, no matter if the world outside their contrived one had fallen to ashes already, this was the fight the Reenactment had been building up to. Perhaps this wouldn't be the fight of his life if he won, but it would be if he lost.

The lines collided and Blader lost all sense of organization. All he could see were the beings directly around him, all he could hear was their yells and screams. He swung and stabbed, deflected and parried, blocked blows off his shield and ducked under others. He was constantly in motion, for to stop was to die.

Blader caught glimpses of actual historical events within Ragnarok; he saw Garm and Tyr battling, knowing they were destined to slay each other, and then the warriors around him shifted and fell and he saw them no more. Plunging forward, he lopped the head off one of Hela's undead and darted under a jotun's club.

Then he was facing an undead warrior, holding a rusted sword and a shield. The warrior just charged at him and Blader sidestepped, driving his sword through the warrior's back. The corpse stumbled and collapsed onto the ground and Blader just gave it a look before moving on, seeing one of Odin's einherjar easily hold off two jotuns, ducking and dodging and using his skill and strength to defeat them.

That is the difference between honor and dishonor, Blader thought as he moved on, deflecting blows on his shield and dealing out strikes with his sword. When the dishonorable dead of Hela, daughter of Loki, fought against the honorable dead of Odin, it was clear that the honorable had the high ground.

No matter how this Reenactment is being judged, no matter whether acting honorable will save me or not, I know which side I want to take.

As Blader fought and blocked, working his way through the absolute mayhem, he saw other recruits, fighting their own battles. Some he recognized from his unit, some he recognized seeing around Vigrid, and some he only knew by the same grey fabric of their tunics, the same as his own. But despite everything he'd ever thought about a battle, there was no unity here, only chaos. Despite the recruits all working toward the same ending, they had to fight through this alone.

Chaos doesn't win, Blader reminded himself as he blocked a jotun's axe, the blade glancing off his shield. A new world was born from all of this, my world. We had a beginning after all the chaos. Those of us who make it will have our own new beginning as einherjar.

Blader continued to slash through undead soldiers and jotuns as he moved forward, he knew not where. There was no inkling of "to stand and fight" anymore; there was simply motion. Standing one's ground didn't do anyone any good, least of all Blader. In a battle as chaotic as this one was, there was no notion of fighting from one side, of enemy lines. Not here, not now. Not anymore.

As Blader killed another jotun and moved past his fallen body, he saw Odin, sitting atop Sleipnir, stabbing an undead warrior through the chest with his spear, Gungnir. The king withdrew his spear as the corpse toppled over and wheeled his horse around. The whirl of the eight legs made Blader feel as if he was seeing double for a moment.

"Einherjar, to me!" he shouted as his eyes fell on Blader. A surge of the undead warriors rushed to surround the Allfather and Blader felt himself moving to join them, to be a part of their desperate charge. Then Odin raised his spear and Sleipnir sped forward, forming the center point of the charge, crashing through the jotuns and undead warriors across from them.

Blader slashed and hacked, blocked and ducked, as he struggled to stay alive. In most instances, his reactions were instinctual, moving before thinking, just keeping himself alive.

Off in the distance, he saw the hulking form of Fenrir, Loki's wolf-son, snapping up warriors left and right. Jormungand, the world serpent, serpent-son of Loki, towered over his brother as he slithered across Vigrid, crushing everyone in his path. Nearby, Blader saw Thor, swinging Mjolnir left and right as he knocked aside his opponents.

Blader continued to fight, eventually becoming separated from Odin's group of einherjar. For a moment, he fought back to back with another recruit, one he didn't recognize, but then the recruit received a sword in the stomach and fell, and Blader moved on.

Slamming his shield into a jotun and shoving the warrior back, Blader exchanged blows with her, receiving a slash on the arm from her sword, before he thrust his blade through her chest and she fell. He stepped past her, through the gap left by her collapse, and came face to face with Loki.

The half god, half frost jotun just looked at Blader for a moment with a disturbingly intense gaze that reminded Blader of something, but he couldn't put his finger on what. Twirling his spear, Loki cocked his head, keeping his gaze on him.

"Well, well, well," he said, and the way he spoke reminded Blader of Jorid's habit of starting conversations with repetition. "Einherjar, are you?" The voice was harsh, but without the condescension Blader had learned to hear in Jorid's voice. "There's not much left to fight for, young einherjar."

"All the more reason to keep to my sword," Blader replied, unsure what to make of Loki. He was dark, evil, the one who had killed Baldor for no apparent reason and placed the blame at Hod's feet. He was an enemy, although once a friend. Perhaps he had always been the enemy.

The legends about the sworn brother to Odin had reminded Blader of his friendship with Jorid, especially after Thor's Bridge. Jorid tended to get Blader into trouble, but they had remained friends, Blader being unable to forget that moment on the Transriot when Jorid had chosen to die with him rather than hide with the other kids. It took a lot on Jorid's part to destroy their friendship, to start their Ragnarok, which Blader had begun and ended with a single punch to the face.

This Ragnarok was not so simple to end.

"Keep your sword, and fall upon my spear," Loki instructed right before lunging toward Blader.

Blader raised his shield, deflecting the spear point off to the side. But before the tip struck the ground, Loki was already reversing the spear, sending the butt crashing into Blader's head.

Stumbling backward, Blader's vision swam from the sudden strike, his head spinning. He hadn't expected it. The attack had been so fast, so unexpected.

Loki came at Blader again and Blader barely blocked the blow on his shield. Stepping back, Loki spun his spear and prepared to strike again, but Blader lunged first, getting within Loki's swing and taking the blow on his ribs. The spear shaft slammed into his side, knocking him over a step, but Blader kept his balance and drove forward with his sword.

Loki's face twisted as he tried to dodge Blader's thrust, winding up with the blade scraping across the armor on his side. Blader spun, flipping his sword back and up again as he slammed his shield into Loki, trying to keep him off-balanced. He brought the hilt of his sword up into Loki's chin, knocking him back a step.

Suddenly, Blader felt Loki's hands wrapping around his throat and his thumbs pressed into his esophagus as the half-breed stumbled backward. Blader gagged, choking as oxygen was prevented from reaching his lungs, and staggered forward as his opponent finally regained his footing. Loki was staring at him with such hatred, such intensity, and again, Blader was struck by the feeling he'd seen that intensity before.

A manic grin stretched across Loki's face. "I have you now, young einherjar."

That's when it struck Blader. The look in Loki's eyes – it reminded him of Wolfsted. Just the intensity in the eyes, that was all, but it was nevertheless unsettling.

Blader thrust his sword forward, feeling the blade penetrate through the armor Loki was wearing. With a curse, he dropped the recruit, Blader falling onto his backside as he gulped in deep breaths of air.

Loki snarled at Blader, one hand over his lower ribcage, where blood was beginning to stain his armor. "You'll pay for that."

Blader didn't respond, just rose to his feet and readied his weapons.

Then a yell from the side sounded and Blader flicked his eyes in that direction just enough to see Wolfsted hurling himself at Loki, sword out. At the last moment he reversed his grip, dropping into a crouch, and swept Loki off his feet with his shield instead.

"Come on!" he shouted to Blader as he sprang back up, Loki hitting the ground hard. "We can't kill him, only Heimdall can!"

Blader took off after the Aldrian, racing away from Loki. They shoved through the mass of warriors, blocking and slashing as they went.

"Thanks!" Blader panted to Wolfsted, struggling to be heard over the constant noise all around them.

"No problem!" Wolfsted returned, glancing back at him, a cut across his cheek, and Blader was unnerved by the grim intensity of his eyes. It was too much like Loki's, even if that Loki was nothing more than a rekkr.

A howl from ahead of them slowed their pace. Fenrir was before them, baring his teeth at something, and Blader heard a horse whinny.

Wait a moment....

"Odin!" Wolfsted hissed at him. "This must be it!"

The two recruits skirted the two einherjar fighting back to back, having to guard each other's backs for a moment in the fray, and then made it into the space cleared around Odin and Fenrir just in time to see the Allfather charge the wolf.

Blader staggered to a halt, eyes wide as the spear left Odin's hand, flying straight for the wolf. Fenrir ignored it, instead reaching out and snapping Odin up in his jaws, his fangs grazing against Sleipnir's side and bringing a startled neigh from the horse.

And then Odin, the Allfather, was gone.

"Vidar's foot!" Wolfsted exclaimed.

"Well, that is what kills Fenrir eventually," Blader replied grimly.

The two einherjar recruits kept moving, occasionally spotting other recruits in the sheer chaos. At one point, they saw Sodull, sitting straddled on top of Jormungand's back, shooting arrows down into the undead warriors and jotuns around him, who attempted to reach him with their weapons but couldn't. Then their view of their friend was blocked and they didn't see Sodull anymore.

More fighting followed. Everything was beginning to blend together for Blader. Swing, block, parry, block again. Kill. Repeat. In an endless cycle of bloodshed and death, stuck in the motion of repetition until the worlds fell from the sky.

Thor fell, fighting Jormungand. The poison of the serpent killed the mighty god and his hammer hit the ground with a thud, to be claimed later by Thor's sons, Magni and Modi. Blader and Wolfsted couldn't spare a moment to gaze at the death scene, but only kept moving.

There was one moment when Blader caught a glimpse of Skalfi and Vandri, fighting back to back, fending off the jotuns surrounding them. Right before Blader moved out of sight of them, Munin bounded toward the group around the girls, sword at the ready.

All my friends are accounted for, Blader thought, relieved. They are all alive. For now, at least.

He saw Surtr, the huge fire giant, his sword glowing as he killed the gentle god Freyr. Blader and Wolfsted, subconsciously moving in the direction of Yggdrasil, saw flames begin to ripple across the field, and the two picked up their pace.

"Yggdrasil is our only hope," Blader said to Wolfsted, and the Aldrian only nodded grimly.

Ahead of them was Loki, once again, the spear in his hand poised to throw. As Blader and Wolfsted skidded to a halt, he completely ignored them and hurled his spear at Heimdall, receiving his opponent's own spear in his chest. For a moment, Loki stood, staring down at the projectile stuck in his flesh, and then he collapsed backward, falling to the ground with his eyes fluttering closed.

Loki landed with his left hand reaching for the wound on his chest, his right spread out to the side.

The same position he had started in.

The fire was burning higher, brighter now. Wolfsted and Blader continued to run, jumping over bodies, turning their heads away from the blood and horrific injuries. Less people stood now, most having fallen, and Blader could see other grey-clothed recruits moving toward Yggdrasil, seeking its safety.

A glance behind him revealed the fire was reaching for the sky. The air was hot and there was smoke, seeping into Blader's lungs and he coughed hard, seeking to expel it. Wolfsted stumbled and Blader grabbed his arm, keeping him upright as the two continued to run for Yggdrasil.

Reaching the base of the tree, Blader and Wolfsted sought shelter under the roots, coughing on the smoke. Other recruits joined them there, some he recognized from Unit 232 and others he only knew from seeing around Vigrid. Some he had no recollection of ever seeing before, but now they all stood, coughing and waiting.

Sodull dashed down into the root basin, tripping down the slope. Wolfsted hauled him to his feet and Sodull nodded appreciatively. His face was covered with blood from a wound in his hairline and his quiver was empty of arrows, the bow sticking out of it empty.

"Vandri and Skalfi," Blader said softly. "We're missing Vandri and Skalfi. And Munin."

"Not everyone makes it," Sodull remarked quietly.

"They have to," Blader replied, looking at him. "I don't want to lose another friend."

Sodull didn't reply, just pressed his lips together.

More recruits staggered down into the roots, with various injuries. Blader's head ached and his arm had been cut at some point during the battle and he was sore and sweaty and tired, his ribs hurting from Loki's spear, but all he could think about was Skalfi and Vandri and how none of the three boys had seen them yet.

I can't lose Skalfi.

"Look!" Wolfsted shouted suddenly, pointing ahead into the swirl of smoke and flame. Blader and Sodull glanced up, following his finger. There, staggering toward the lip of the root basin, was the figure of a girl carrying something in her arms.

It was Vandri.

And she was carrying a limp Skalfi.