ASGARD PALADIN

Chapter 1: Asgard

April 24, 2019, 4 AM, one hour after the premiere of Avengers 4.

Forseti sat at his computer desk, wearing headphones, staring at the screen with a dazed expression, occasionally clicking the mouse.

Displayed on his screen was Stormwind City, the bustling hub of "World of Warcraft", complete with its auction house, the opulent Golden Rose Hotel, and the majestic Thunder Dragon caravans soaring overhead.

What left him dazed were the level 120 players bustling about, especially a wealthy player flaunting his Thunder Dragon mount.

Forseti sighed. "World of Warcraft" had evolved considerably since he last played years ago.

Once an avid player, Forseti had stopped due to work commitments. But after watching "Avengers 4" and reminiscing about eleven years of Marvel movies, he felt a nostalgic pull towards the epic game that had once been his companion.

Returning to the game after years, Forseti found himself almost a stranger in this transformed virtual world. Level 85 human paladins roamed alongside level 120 players like insignificant figures.

Varian Wrynn and Tirion Fordring—gone, just like Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff.

Half an hour passed.

"Time for a dungeon run and then bed," Forseti muttered, joining the dungeon queue.

...

Forseti dreamt he was chasing a golden light—a pure, sun-like brilliance that compelled all life towards it.

In his dream, he pursued this light, a star shooting across the sky, endlessly out of reach yet always within sight. Suddenly, he misstepped and plunged into an abyss.

Panic seized him in the endless darkness until, amidst his struggles, the light drew nearer, revealing itself as a book glowing with golden hues, its cover etched with intricate lines and adorned with small golden rings.

He reached out and grasped the book.

In an instant, a storm of light engulfed him.

...

"What!"

Forseti jolted awake as if startled by boiling water.

"Thump!"

He hit the ground face-first, tasting bitterness.

Rubbing his nose, he surveyed his surroundings, slowly piecing together his situation.

"Where... am I?"

He found himself in a quaint, brick-and-stone chamber with an old-world charm reminiscent of European period dramas.

Glancing down, he noted his attire: a light gray linen shirt, brown trousers, and sturdy boots.

Sunlight streamed lazily through the window, casting a post-nap glow.

"Wasn't I just playing a game?"

Forseti wondered aloud.

"This isn't a dream."

Recalling the vivid dream of the golden book, he spotted it lying nearby, heavy and real.

He hesitated but picked it up, feeling an inexplicable connection—as though the book was a part of him.

Running his fingers over its spine, the book felt ordinary, its cover shimmering faintly with golden light. Words slowly materialized on its first page:

"

Holy Order of Kings

Owner: Forseti

"

"Holy Order of Kings?"

Confused, Forseti flipped to the second page, only to be interrupted by hurried footsteps.

A young woman with long brown hair burst in, dressed akin to him in period attire, freckles dotting her face.

"Forseti!"

Forseti tried to respond but only managed incoherent babbling, his mind throbbing with conflicting memories and languages—English and something else... Asgardian?

A torrent of fragmented knowledge flooded his mind, leaving him stunned.

"Forseti, are you alright?" the woman, El, exclaimed anxiously.

Slowly regaining his composure, Forseti hesitated before murmuring, "Cousin El?"

Relieved, El scolded gently, "Don't scare me like that. Remember the bet we made..."

Lost in thought, Forseti realized he had somehow traveled—from 21st-century US to Asgard, home of Thor and the Aesir.

But it was too early—Thor hadn't been born yet.

Still Forseti, albeit with a name similar in sound but different in meaning.

Coincidence? Fate?

He pondered over the possibilities, once dismissing such events as lazy storytelling.

Now, he wondered if there were rules to such temporal displacements.

The original Forseti was gone, leaving behind fragmented memories that now felt oddly familiar in this mythical realm.

"Hey, the lazy bum's awake!" A gruff voice interrupted, as a portly, balding man entered with a bottle of mead.

"Father, give him a break," El defended.

"What break? He needs to earn his keep!"

This was Peter, Forseti's uncle, who raised him after his parents' passing. Despite Peter's gruffness, El treated Forseti like a younger brother.

Forseti, small and wiry, at 24 years old, was more akin to a teenager among the long-lived Aesir, whose lifespan spanned millennia.

Days ago, a mishap during his favorite pastime—climbing trees—had left him comatose for days until now.

As an extremely young Aesir civilian with a relatively weak physique compared to his peers . Falling from that highest tree of forest he bravely attempted to scale was a death sentence.

"The Frost Giants are stirring again. A hundred healing stones—make them quick!" Uncle Peter grumbled, leaving with his mead.

The Peters lived in Lifia, a village nestled at the foot of Mount Lifia in Asgard, known more as a village despite its grand name.

Mount Lifia's bounty of herbs supported Peter's apothecary, with healing stones being vital commodities, especially in wartime.

"Forseti, how do you feel?" El inquired.

Forseti's mind still foggy, replied, "Fine... I just need some time to myself."

As El turned to leave, she noticed the "Holy Order of Kings" resting on Forseti's lap.

"What's this?" she asked, flipping through it.

Forseti froze. He saw pages filled with text and images, but to her, they appeared blank.

"A new diary?" El quipped, unaware of the book's true content.

Forseti's confusion deepened.

Closing the door, he reopened the book, finding the pages once more filled with mysterious script—a language foreign yet strangely familiar.

And at the top of the second page:

Devotion Store.

"Devotion?" Forseti puzzled over the word, understanding "store" from his gaming experience.

Could this book be connected to "World of Warcraft," he wondered.

In the store, two items beckoned:

A golden question mark symbol: [Gift of Fate], priced at 0.99 (limited time offer, original price 9.98).

And a golden shield symbol: [Guardian's Gift], free (limited time offer, original price 0.00).

In the corner, it read [Devotion: 0.00].

"Devotion" as currency? How intriguing.

Frowning, Forseti tentatively reached for the free [Guardian's Gift].

---

In Norse Mythology

- Forseti (Old Norse: Fosite) also known as Forseti Baldurson (Translation: Forseti, Son of Baldur) is the Norse God of Justice and Reconciliation. He is a member of the Aesir Royal Family.