Chapter 2 : I don't feel so good

<Omniscient Pov>

In the dimly lit room, the crib stood as a silent sentinel, cradling the tiny form of a newborn baby. The air hung heavy with an atmosphere of eerie stillness, broken only by the occasional flicker of a candle's flame. The baby lay there, his expression blank, as if his soul had momentarily vacated his body, leaving behind a lifeless husk.

But then, as if sparked to life by an unseen force, the baby twitched. His small limbs jerked, and his face contorted into a mixture of surprise and distress. And then, the room was filled with the heart-wrenching sound of a baby's cry, a piercing wail that echoed off the stone walls.

<POV: Wolfric, the Blue Baby>

Soo... yeahhh. It slowly dawned on me that this bizarre situation was definitely not a dream. I found myself abducted by aliens—or at least, they looked like aliens—and transformed into this small, helpless being unable to utter a single word. It was utterly surreal, as if I had stumbled into the plot of a science fiction movie gone horribly wrong.

My frustration bubbled within me. This couldn't be real, right? I couldn't possibly be in a place like this. I clenched my tiny fists, my baby-blue skin contrasting with my anger. The beings around me, these powerlifter smurfs as I dubbed them, didn't seem to understand my distress. I longed to shout at them, to demand answers, but all that came out were incoherent babbling sounds.

I glanced around, taking in the eerie surroundings. It felt like a place where dark rituals might have been performed, the air thick with an unsettling energy. Despite my predicament, a twisted sense of humor bubbled up within me. I mean, seriously? Sacrificing to the devil for shits and giggles? That was both terrifying and oddly amusing in a morbid way.

But humor could only distract me for so long. The reality of my situation crashed down on me again. I was trapped in this strange place, unable to comprehend the language or the motives of these alien-like beings. An overwhelming sense of helplessness washed over me, and all I could do was let out a frustrated gurgle, my tiny voice expressing the depth of my confusion and desperation. Soo... now what?

In the midst of my frustration and confusion, a glimmer of determination flickered within me. I might be a helpless baby now, but I refused to succumb entirely to my circumstances. Gathering whatever courage I could muster, I focused on my surroundings, observing the aliens and their peculiar rituals.

As days turned into weeks, I began to pick up on their gestures and expressions, slowly deciphering their form of communication. It was a gradual process, but my sharp, curious mind started to grasp the basics. I mimicked their sounds and movements, attempting to bridge the gap between their language and my understanding.

 {few weeks later...}

<POV: Wolfric, the Blue Baby>

Well, shit...

These low budget blue Viking wannabes don't have a clue about handling babies. I mean, seriously, I'm just a tiny, defenseless creature in their giant, muscular world. They feed me like I'm some sort of menace, with a fervor that suggests I've personally wronged their entire lineage. What gives, man?

Despite my size and the frustration bubbling within me, I couldn't help but feel a spark of determination. They might think they've got the upper hand, but I was not some random baby. I might be blue, but I certainly wasn't feeling blue, and I sure as hell wasn't going to let these smurfs get away with treating me like a helpless little blob.

I vowed silently to myself: one day, somehow, I would find a way back at these blue giants. They might have abducted me and turned my life upside down, but I wasn't one to back down from a challenge. With newfound resolve, I squirmed in my crib, tiny fists clenched, ready to take on whatever obstacles this alien world threw at me. Revenge, it seemed, was on the menu.

In these few weeks, I attempted to learn as much as I could about this perplexing place, but the more I discovered, the less sense it made. These people, if I could even call them that, were like aliens from Avatar on steroids, behaving in ways that defied any logic I understood.

I witnessed two of them engaging in a pointless fight, a senseless display of aggression that seemed to have no reason at all. They took their quarrel outside, leaving me in the confined space of my sacrificial room. It was baffling, their actions mirroring a level of ignorance that I couldn't fathom.

Throughout my observations, one figure remained notably absent: the towering blue giant I had seen before. He seemed important, possibly a key figure in this society, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was somehow related to him. But he hadn't visited me since that initial encounter, leaving me in a state of uncertainty.

Boredom settled over me like a suffocating blanket, and I found myself yearning for something to do apart from the usual baby antics like drooling and uttering incomprehensible sounds. My mind, even in this tiny, limited form, hungered for stimulation.

Fighting against the monotony, I decided to challenge the confines of my infantile mind. I attempted to remember the interesting things from my life before this strange transformation, grasping at the fragments of memories that floated like elusive ghosts in the recesses of my baby brain. I recalled the sights and sounds of my previous life, the people I knew, and the places I had been. It was a challenging exercise, trying to hold onto the threads of my former self while trapped in the body of an infant.

As I delved into my memories, I tried to make sense of the events that had led me to this peculiar situation. I dwelled on the experiences and knowledge I had gained in my past life, hoping that these memories would keep my mind active and prevent it from succumbing to the dullness of babyhood.

In the confined space of my crib, I embarked on a mental journey, reconstructing my life story piece by piece. It was a desperate attempt to maintain my sanity, to hold onto the remnants of my identity in the face of the bizarre circumstances I found myself in. The challenge was daunting, but I clung to the memories like a lifeline, determined not to let my baby brain fry itself in the abyss of boredom and confusion.

 (some where away from the frosty plains of Jotunheim.)

<Omniscient POV>

Amidst the relentless chaos of the battlefield, where death and destruction reigned supreme, the air was thick with the acrid scent of smoke and the agonized cries of fallen soldiers. The ground was littered with the bodies of the brave and the broken, and the earth itself seemed to cry out in anguish beneath the weight of the carnage. The once-vibrant realm of Muspelheim lay in ruins, its residents now lifeless, their hopes dashed in the wake of merciless warfare.

On one side of the battlefield, soldiers clad in golden armor fought with a precision and ferocity that struck fear into the hearts of their enemies. They moved like a well-oiled machine, cutting down their foes with ruthless efficiency, their swords and spears gleaming in the blood-red light of the dying sun.

Amidst the madness, there stood a solitary figure, untouched by the chaos surrounding him. He was the King of Muspelheim, Surtur, his once-proud spirit now broken, his resolve waning in the face of inevitable defeat. He knew the war was lost, and the choices before him were stark: to surrender and accept Asgard's rule, or to face utter annihilation.

And then, in the midst of the battlefield, a man emerged, his presence commanding the attention of all. No mere mortal, he was a god—the Allfather, Odin, the deity of wisdom, war, and death. His one eye, a piercing blue, surveyed the battlefield with a stoic expression, his gaze encompassing the tragedy and devastation that surrounded him.

With a deep, resolute breath, Odin spoke, his voice cutting through the cacophony of battle like thunder on the horizon. "Soon..." he murmured, his words carried away by the wind. He raised his head, his eye filled with a sense of purpose. "Time to end this war," he declared, his tone firm and unyielding. In those words lay the weight of finality, a decree that sent shivers down the spines of those who heard it, for they knew that the fate of Muspelheim hung in the balance, and the decision that followed would echo through the realms for eternity.