Salem...

As Odin spoke, Gregory's skepticism wavered, his mind grappling with the incongruity of his situation. He marveled at the idea that his disbelief was precisely what had brought him to this pivotal point in the mythos of ancient gods. "I know you have questions, Gregory," Odin continued, his voice filled with understanding. "I will answer all of them as time goes on. However in this many before you have faced the same uncertainty. But understand this: Valhalla is a place where warriors find their purpose, where myths and legends thrive. Your presence here is a testament to the power of belief, in any form it takes." Gregory listened intently, his rational mind slowly surrendering to the undeniable presence of the gods and epic tales surrounding him. He realized that this was not merely a clash of cultures or a battle of faiths, but a cosmic convergence of beliefs and ideas. As Gregory's journey unfolded, spiraling through realms unknown, he embraced the unthinkable. Perhaps, in this extraordinary world of Valhalla, he would discover the unexpected, challenging the borders of knowledge and experience. With determination etched on his face, Gregory accepted his role as champion, ready to traverse the realms connected by the World Tree and face the unimaginable tests that awaited him. In Valhalla, where gods and warriors mingled, Gregory realized that belief, whether rooted in faith or skepticism, had the power to shape destinies. And thus, armed with his intellect, curiosity, and newfound purpose, Gregory decided it would be best to embark on a journey across the realms, prepared to challenge ancient legends and prove that even an atheist could defy the odds and emerge victorious in the battle of the worlds.Lightning struck followed by thunder behind the doors, and they opened. Thor, the mighty god of thunder walked in, hammer in hand, he approached the table, his steps resonating throughout the hall. His fierce gaze fell upon Gregory with a mixture of disdain and skepticism, as if the notion of an atheist champion was an affront to his very existence. Gregory couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation in the presence of this towering deity. With an air of authority, Odin turned to Thor and said, "My son, Thor, I have chosen this mortal, Gregory, to be your charge. He is the champion who will venture through the realms and topple the threats that endanger our existence. You are to guide him, teach him, and ensure his success." Thor's expression contorted into a scowl, his frustration evident. "Father, this mortal lacks the faith that courses through our veins, he is weak. How can he possibly be the key to victory? He disregards the gods and the realms we hold dear. This is an insult!" Odin's gaze never wavered as he responded, "Thor, in his disbelief lies the very strength we need. His skepticism, his ability to question, will help us uncover truths and unveil paths we have not yet considered. Trust in my decision, for the fabric of the realms hangs in the balance."Thor reluctantly nodded, his reservations simmering beneath his godly exterior. He turned toward Gregory, a gleam of determination glinting in his eyes. "Mortal," he grumbled, "I am Thor, son of Odin and god of thunder. You will bow to my guidance, and perhaps, if you show some mettle, I might soften my disdain for you. But make no mistake, this challenge will test the limits of your abilities, faith or not." Gregory swallowed hard, intimidated yet resolute. The future of the realms rested upon his shoulders, and he couldn't afford to succumb to doubt. He nodded, acknowledging Thor's words, and murmured, "I will do my best, Thor. Together, we shall face whatever trials lay ahead." Thor scoffed, dismissing Gregory's reply beneath his godly arrogance. "We shall see," he grumbled, his voice resonating with the boom of distant thunder. With a wave of his hand, he conjured a shimmering portal that revealed the realm of Midgard, also known as Earth. It pulsated with life, bustling cities, and forests teeming with nature's majesty. "Midgard is the first realm you must traverse," Thor declared, his tone laced with impatience. "Begin there, champion, with the mortals who bear the most resemblance to you. Prove yourself, or your lack of faith will be your downfall, die with honor." Gregory mustered his courage, taking one last glance at the grandeur of Valhalla before stepping through the portal to Midgard. As he materialized in this familiar yet unfamiliar world, a newfound purpose surged within him. This was his chance to defy the preconceptions of gods and men alike, to challenge his own disbelief and seek truths beyond the boundaries of his former understanding. Guided by Thor, with his ornate hammer, Mjölnir, in hand, Gregory embraced the intricacies of Midgard, conscious of the magnitude of his task. The divine scorn, the skeptical mortal, and the divine realms converged within him, pushing him forward to face the perilous trials that awaited him.In the realm of Midgard, where mortality and reason reigned, Gregory prepared to confront not only the external threats that imperiled the nine realms but also the internal barriers of his own doubts. As he ventured forth into this realm of humans, he resolved to prove Thor wrong, to find strength in his own beliefs, and to unveil the power that resided within him. Together, the skeptic and the god set forth, bound by a shared quest for salvation. With each step, Gregory's spirit grew stronger, fueled by the possibility that an atheist, against all odds, could rise to become the hero that the realms desperately needed. And so, their journey began, their fates intertwined, as Gregory set out to confront the impending chaos and restore balance to the realms, one realm at a time.Gregory's eyes fluttered open, only to find himself in the body of an unsuspecting eight-year-old boy named Erin. Confusion gripped him as he tried to make sense of his new surroundings, but panic quickly consumed him as he realized the significance of the moment. It was the infamous night of the witch massacre in Salem, and his own mother, that he now embodied, was being chased as a suspect. "Freakin gods, really?, an eight year old boy, what can I do in this frail flesh bag?, great" Gregory murmured to himself. He locked eyes with the other child within the market", where are we?, what is the date?" he asked. "Don't touch me witche's son, today you will all die, you are powerless under the blood moon, your magic won't work on me!" the young boy screamed as he ran away. It was dark, evening, but Gregory noticed the clothing, the technology, the diet, then suddenly it clicked. It was the eighteen hundreds. Witch prosecution he thought. "No, why, not the night of the blood moon, please gods no, not today, not Salem, not the night of the witch hunt, not in this body!" Gregory's anger was visible. Immediately a lady came and grabbed his hand and started running towards the forest.Through the veil of darkness, under the eerie glow of a blood moon, Erin's mother clutched his hand tightly, her grip filled with both determination and fear. His tiny legs barely keeping up, his trousers falling from his waist. As they darted between the shadowy trees, branches clawing at their faces, their desperate flight filled the air with frantic gasps and the pounding rhythm of their footfalls. "Erin, we must flee! They're coming for us!" his mother cried out, her voice filled with tears and desperation. The fear in her eyes mirrored Gregory's own, as they navigated the gloomy woodland in an attempt to evade their pursuers. Gregory's heart raced in his chest, the gravity of the situation pressing upon him. This was not only a matter of survival; it was a desperate struggle against a ruthless witch-hunting mob, fueled by paranoia and hysteria. The innocence of young Erin's mind clashed with the harsh reality of the world that surrounded him. The sound of angry shouts and the crackling of torches echoed in the distance, drawing closer with each passing moment. Gregory could feel his small legs burning with exertion, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, as his mother urged him onward, her voice trembling with a mix of desperation and determination. In the midst of their frenzied escape, Gregory caught glimpses of the anguish etched upon his mother's face. Every tear that trickled down her cheek mirrored her fear, not only for her own life but for the precious life of her innocent child. It was a maternal instinct that transcended time and belief, as she clung to the hope of preserving the life of her beloved son.