SSS Class Mythic Beast Master-Chapter 390: Nine Realm (1)

Reinhard’s consciousness plummeted through darkness once more. The familiar sensation of falling, of being pulled back into the dream, overtook him after everyone went to sleep.

His hand froze on the handle, body going rigid as awareness fled elsewhere.

When vision returned, he floated in the void.

Odin stood before him, or rather, Reinhard observed through Odin’s perspective, seeing what the transformed transcendent saw.

The young being floated in the void that he instinctively realized before was now Ginnungagap, surrounded by the components of his vision. Ymir’s transformed body spread across space, making a conscious earth, living seas, bone-mountains, and the skull-sky. The old realms waited at the edges of perception, all suspended, ready for integration.

Odin’s hands rose, fingers spreading wide. The rivers within him surged, their eleven essences flowing together in harmonious power. The Void-Splinter Spear and First Flame’s blade hovered at his sides, resonating with his will.

He began.

His attention focused on the empty space between the forming realms, and reality responded. Not creating from nothing but shaping what already existed. The infinite potential around began condensing into actuality, and possibility became inevitable.

The first realm took form.

It started as golden light gathering in a single point. Then the light expanded, spreading outward in geometric patterns that followed principles both mathematical and aesthetic. Solid forms emerged, not rock or ice or any material substance, but something purer.

A golden material and light were used as the foundation as the towers rose. Not growing like plants or being built like buildings, but appearing as if they had always been there, and reality was only now noticing them.

Their surfaces gleamed not with reflected light but with illumination, as though consciousness itself had learned to glow. Each tower reached upward with impossible grace. Their architecture defied conventional physics, angles that shouldn’t support weight somehow bearing massive loads, spaces larger inside than outside, and stairs that spiraled upward beyond where eyes could follow.

Yet nothing felt wrong or unstable.

The structures were perfectly suited to their purpose.

Then the halls materialized between the towers with vast spaces with ceilings so high they disappeared into golden haze. The floors were smooth as mirrors, reflecting not just physical forms but somehow capturing the essence of whoever walked upon them.

The walls’ surfaces encoded with knowledge waiting to be read by those capable of understanding.

Reinhard felt Odin’s intention flowing through the creation. This wasn’t merely a dwelling place but something far more significant. A realm designed for beings to study itself, to examine its own nature and potential with clarity impossible in other places.

"This realm would be called Asgard." Odin spoke, his voice resonating through the void. Each word carried weight, becoming part of the realm’s foundation. "And it would be the home of my father’s and brother’s, and other Pale Ones themselves."

The towers responded to the naming, their inner light brightening. More structures were formed, great halls where wisdom could be shared and developed, libraries that would hold not just information but understanding itself, forges where ideas could be refined into tools for creation.

"But it would be more than just a dwelling place." Odin’s hands continued their shaping motions, guiding reality with gentle precision. "It would be a place where they could develop new ways of exploring the great work of creation."

The realm solidified further.

Gardens appeared between buildings, not wild growth but carefully cultivated spaces where even plants seemed to grow in patterns that suggested thought. Fountains emerged, their water flowing upward before cascading down in spirals that caught light and transformed it into rainbow spectra.

But something was missing.

Reinhard felt it through Odin’s awareness. Asgard needed a connection to the other realms, a way for its inhabitants to travel and share what they learned.

Odin’s expression shifted into something like a smile, and he gestured with both hands, fingers weaving complex patterns in the air.

A bridge began forming.

It started at Asgard’s edge, extending outward into the void. But it wasn’t solid stone or metal, but of light itself, pure radiance given enough substance to support weight. Colors flowed across its surface in constant motion, never mixing but existing in harmony.

Red appeared first, blazing with passionate intensity. The color of drive, of the force that pushes conscious beings to create and explore despite obstacles. It pulsed with energy that made reality around it seem brighter.

Orange flowed beside it, warmer and more gentle. The shade of connection, of one consciousness reaching toward another in recognition and fellowship. Where it touched the void, tiny sparks emerged like stars being born.

Yellow spread across the bridge’s center, clear and bright. The hue of understanding, of awareness, examining itself, and finding clarity. Its light was steady rather than flickering, reliable as sunrise.

Green emerged with a vibrancy that suggested growth. Not the green of simple plants, but the color of wisdom accumulating, of consciousness developing through experience. The green that pulsed with a subtle rhythm.

Blue deepened the bridge’s structure, adding depth and contemplation. The shade of thought diving into mystery, of minds willing to explore the profound rather than staying on surface understanding. It carried weight that the other colors lacked.

Indigo appeared like twilight, mysterious and alluring. The color of questions that remain unanswered, of the eternal unknown that persists regardless of knowledge gained. It shimmered with promise and uncertainty in equal measure.

Finally, violet completed the spectrum. The shade of transformation, of consciousness recognizing its connection to something greater than individual existence. It blazed with intensity that made the other colors seem pale by comparison.

"Bifrost." Odin named it, and the bridge responded by solidifying further. "The rainbow bridge that would connect all different forms of consciousness."

The bridge extended from Asgard, reaching toward the other forming realms. Where it ended or perhaps where it began, as such distinctions seemed meaningless for the gateway.

It was not a door but a threshold, a boundary between states of being that travelers could cross.

Reinhard felt the symbolism woven into every aspect. The bridge wasn’t just transportation but representation, showing how transcendent awareness and earthly awareness weren’t separate but different expressions of the same fundamental consciousness.

Then Odin’s attention shifted downward. To the planet he’d formed from Ymir’s body, that conscious earth with its seas and bone-mountains, its skull-sky painted blue with forming clouds.

He descended, floating closer until continents and oceans became visible. The world was beautiful but empty, with no life stirred in those seas, and no creatures walked across that conscious ground.

This would be different from Asgard, Reinhard understood through their connection. Not a place for consciousness to study itself in transcendent form, but somewhere to experience limitation. To feel what it meant to be bound by the concept of time, dimension, and space, confined to three dimensions, subject to mortality and weakness.

Odin’s hands moved again, shaping with careful movements.

The realm’s nature shifted.

The dimensions folded, reducing infinite potential, possibilities, higher levels, and size down to manageable constraints.

The laws that would govern this place wrote themselves into reality’s physics that would make sense to beings who existed in linear time, who moved through space rather than existing everywhere simultaneously, who were born and would eventually die.

"Midgard." Odin spoke the name with particular reverence. "The middle enclosure, and the balanced place."

The planet responded. Its rotation stabilized, establishing regular cycles of day and night. Its axis tilted slightly, creating the foundation for seasons. It’s orbit around nothing because no sun existed, yet somehow still produced patterns of light and warmth.

Then Odin reached out, pulling material from the void. Not from Ymir’s body but from something else, fragments of her essence that had scattered during the initial transformation. Her eyebrows, specifically.

Those thick ridges of crystalline ice had protected her eyes from the eternal frost.

He shaped them into a wall.