You stood at the center of it all, sweat beading on your brow, your blade still humming from the last parry. Around you, the Einherjar practiced in disciplined rows, their movements sharp and practiced—but their eyes kept drifting to you.

You were their captain. The one who had survived when so many had fallen. The one Hela had tried to erase.

Thor Odinson stood at the boundary of the training grounds, arms crossed, a grin spreading across his face. His red cape billowed softly in the breeze, Mjolnir hanging at his side.