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“Let’s hurry, Geir.” Brunhilde rasped. “We need to choose the thirteen most powerful humans in all of history to face off against the gods.”
“...B-But what kind of humans can possibly fight against the gods?” Geir whimpered back. The younger valkyrie, in contrast to her calm older sister, was shaking in terror. Thor’s passing had made the already daunting task of Ragnarok seem insurmountable to her, his power overwhelming any thoughts she had of victory. “Onee-sama... It... It’s not going to work. They’re too powerful. The gods will slaughter them!”
“Maybe. But we have to try. There have to be enough of them for humanity to win, to defeat the gods. Otherwise—”
“May I make a suggestion?” The voice was calm, collected, the undeniable undercurrent of age and experience weighed into it. Geir and Brunhilde turned around, wondering who would possibly be up here, looking for them.
“You’re... Sasaki Kojiro?” Brunhilde mumbled, surprised. She’d known the old swordsman would be here in Heaven, and she’d even planned on him participating, but...
“What are you doing here?” How had he already heard the news? He was supposed to be out in the mountains, ‘refining his swordwork’, or whatever he said he was doing. She had sent a messenger, but to have him here this early? Maybe there was a chance it would work out...
“You sent that messenger, didn’t you? I wasn’t in any rush to get things done, so I decided to leave immediately. And when I heard about Ragnarok... Well, I have a suggestion for you. That device of yours, it can call more than just humans, right?”
Brunhilde glanced at her mobile codex and narrowed her eyes, raising a brow in confusion. “Yes, it can. Why?”
“Are you trying to say... we should get the gods that side with Humanity to fight for them?” Geir said. “But... that won’t work! A-All of the powerful gods at this point have already sided against humankind, and...”
Kojiro chuckled. “Oh, no, no, no. That wouldn’t work either. No, my suggestion is a little different.” He gestured towards the Codex, palm wide open. Brunhilde hesitated, then passed it to him. “You see, I’ve had quite a few conversations with other humans up here. And a few of them told me some interesting stories. And so,” Light bloomed from the tiny rectangle, images of the faces of men and women flying through the air, “why not use them instead?”
“Who...” Brunhilde murmured. “Are these people? Santa Claus? The Baba Yaga?”
“Us humans have our legends too, you know?” Kojiro smiled. “Come on. Help us show the Gods that we don’t need them or their judgement anymore.”
“Then... With this,” The elder Valkyrie grinned cruelly. “We have a fighting chance.” A palm slapped against a pane of light, and power bloomed. The air chilled, and the sound of a snowstorm echoed through the halls.
Slowly, Brunhilde began to giggle. Her shoulders shook as her mirth grew, and soon, the sound of her cackles rang out through the air. Kojiro took a look at the scene, and grinned, before he joined in as well.
Geir? She just trembled in fear. ‘Oh no. There’s two of them.’
12 rounds later
“Ladies and Gentlemen, Gods and Mortals, welcome to the final round of Ragnarok! The final battle to decide the fate of Humanity is about to commence! now , without further ado, the representative of the Gods!”
“He is, one of the oldest gods in existence. From the beginning of all things, to what is potentially the end of them for the Humans, he has existed since time immemorial.”
“You all have seen his brothers fight in the arena before, and you know of their all-consuming power.”
“But! You have not seen true power yet.”
“He is not the oldest Primordial God to come into being, and yet he is the most powerful by far.”
“All things fall to his relentless advance, and none, neither God nor Mortal are immune to his powers.”
“Representing the Gods in the final round of Ragnarok, the most powerful of the Four Primordials, Time Himself!”
Humanity’s collective exhaustion could be felt by all in the arena. The other three of the Four Primordials had competed already, and they had simply demolished their competition. What could one do against the very Space that they led their life on? Against the unending Chaos of the uncaring universe? Or the very being that breathed Life into their very body?
Who was even left, to take on the most powerful of those Primordials?
“And now, introducing Humanity’s final representative, to decide the final round of Ragnarok.” Heimdall announced. The diminutive god took a shuddering breath. Unusual, for one who had remained so composed so far.
“This next contestant, has been around since the first man picked up a rock, and slew his brother with it.”
As if a spell had been cast, the arena fell into silence.
“From the very dawn of humanity, he has witnessed the rise and fall of its greatest civilisations.”
Slowly, deliberately, the gates to Humanity’s side of Ragnarok creaked open.
“His blade claims peasant and king alike, the poor and the rich, the sick and the healthy.”
Footsteps rang out from behind the door, slow and unhurried.
“He is… and all-consuming spectre. The one way that all humans will be equal in, someday.”
“His tools are many, from the violent horrors of war, to the silent terror of disease, and yet, he holds no hate to Humanity.”
“No, his embrace is not one of hatred and clawing possessiveness, but a gentle one. Kind, loving. Uncaring of their flaws and great misdeeds, he loves them all the same, like after watching his child come home.”
A black cloaked figure became visible, slowly walking towards the plain and bare arena like a man walking to his own execution. Perhaps it was, some thought, for who could hope to match the concept of time itself?
“Even as his children seek to extend their time away from him, he only smiles, and waits. A child must become independent, after all, and his embrace will always be willing.”
“I give you, ladies and gentlemen. Gods and Mortals. The fighter facing off against the Primordial Time.”
White, bony hands clutching a wooden haft came into view as the fighter stepped out into the arena, and all of Humanity held a collective breath as hope began to reemerge.
“He has many names, for he is omnipresent, yet he needs only one, for his legend is all-consuming.”
The Gods tensed as they observed the newcomer. Something about them… it was… frightening. Every god, from the indomitable Heracles, to the overpowering Zeus felt it in their bones.
The urge to run, to hide. Like prey in the face of an all-consuming predator.
Finally, the fighter stepped into the light. A black hooded cloak shrouded their face, but those who saw it gasped, for underneath was not flesh, but skull and bones. A plain tunic covered the rest of its body underneath, but its hands remained uncovered. In one hand, it held up a lantern, glowing softly with and inviting light, and in the other, it held a deadly sharp scythe. Not a weapon, but a tool of the humble farmer, to harvest one's crop, yet it felt more dangerous than anything else that had ever stepped foot in the arena. They looked up at Time itself, and somehow, smiled.
“Representing Humanity, Death Incarnate, THE GRIM REAPER!”