Odin's mind was racing. Perhaps a forgotten clan had stumbled upon a divine relic, or maybe one of their people had unknowingly awakened godhood. But nothing prepared him for the sight before him.

As the doors to the Asgardian magic library swung open, he froze. Standing within the radiant chamber was not some stranger, but Kurogai Blackwood, the same messenger from Midgard who had once come seeking knowledge.

"You… Why are you here? And this power inside you… are you the one who has awakened as a god?" Odin's voice trembled with disbelief.

The sight unsettled him more than any battle ever had. The faint but undeniable presence of divinity lingered around Kurogai, raw and unrefined yet real. Odin's heart sank as the truth settled in: the god he had sensed was none other than this mortal outsider.

Kurogai's crimson eyes glimmered with a cold light as his presence pressed forward, crashing against Odin like an unseen tide. The divinity that clung to him had not yet fully dissipated, but even in its incomplete state, it radiated a suffocating weight.

"Gods?" Kurogai's voice was calm, almost dismissive. "You tell me."

The aura rolled outward like an avalanche. Odin stiffened under the sheer pressure, his robes damp with sweat. His age weighed heavily upon him, and for the first time in centuries, he felt powerless.

Truthfully, Kurogai had known the All-Father had arrived the moment Odin and his warriors neared the library. Before, he might have created diversions—illusions or doppelgängers to mislead Thor—simply to protect his solitude while he studied. But now? With the second pupil ring perfected, there was no longer any need for tricks. His ascension was undeniable.

Odin steadied himself, his old body straining against the oppressive force. "It is true, then. Yet I cannot fathom why. Why would you, of all people, be chosen for godhood?"

Kurogai's gaze was unflinching. "So, tell me, Odin… do you plan to stand in my way?" His words were edged with quiet threat, the weight of his aura intensifying until the All-Father could barely draw breath.

Odin struggled, but his spirit did not break. "I do not know how or why you became what you are, but I have no wish to make an enemy of you, nor does Asgard. If you have ascended here, there must be reason. Let there be no conflict between us. Surely even you see there is no need for destruction."

For a long moment, silence filled the chamber, broken only by the hum of arcane wards lining the shelves. Then Kurogai's aura eased, dissipating like mist under sunlight. Odin inhaled sharply, relief washing through him as the crushing weight lifted.

"You surprise me," Kurogai admitted quietly. "To see so clearly, so quickly… that is rare. And valuable."

His mind turned over Odin's words. There was no gain in needless conflict. He had reached what he came for, and Asgard had suffered no loss in the process. In fact, forging an accord with Odin could prove far more beneficial than leaving behind smoldering ruins.

Kurogai respected what he saw: wisdom tempered by humility. Odin, despite his pride, had set aside his ego for the sake of his people. Such clarity was not common among rulers—or among gods.

"Well then," Kurogai said, his tone measured, "our paths need not cross as enemies. Your reasoning is sound."

Odin exhaled slowly, feeling the tension ease. "Good. We have worked with Midgard before, in matters concerning the Infinity Stones. Perhaps this is another such moment where our fates align."

Though calm on the surface, Odin knew the truth: a direct clash would devastate Asgard. His warriors would fall in droves, his realm would burn, and even victory—if it came—would taste of ashes. He could not allow that future.

"And be assured," Odin added quickly, "this revelation will not leave these halls. Your secret will be safe."

Kurogai's gaze sharpened. "I do not rely on words. I ensure my own truths."

His eyes shifted, their irises transforming into a vermilion array, runes spiraling like overlapping eyes stacked upon one another. A chill swept through the air.

"The Resentful Eye… activate."

Odin's heart lurched. The very air trembled as the eye's curse stirred.

"Odin," Kurogai intoned, his voice heavy with power, "should you ever reveal what transpired here—by word, by writing, or by any means—then not only you, but all of Asgard will be plunged into endless war. Your realm will burn, and ruin will be your legacy."

The words sank into Odin's very being like molten iron. He gasped as he felt the curse etch itself into his soul, branded by divine authority. His heart hammered as realization dawned: this was no ordinary spell. It was the will of a true god.

And even he, the All-Father of Asgard, could not undo it.