The Allfather's Decree

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He stood at the Unraveling Edge, the cosmic shore where new worlds boil forth from the endless void, and old ones crumble into stardust and memory. The Allfather, Odin, watched the nascent sphere in the sky—a world born of pure chaos, its untamed energies pulling at the very roots of Yggdrasil, threatening the stability of the Nine Realms.

Lesser gods would see only a threat to be destroyed. But Odin, whose one eye sees the endless, shimmering tapestry of fate, saw potential that required a firm hand. He knew that the cosmos requires not just creation, but order. And that order must sometimes be imposed with terrible force.

He raised Gungnir, the world-spear, not in blind anger, but with the weary and absolute authority of a king. The strike against the ground was not an attack, but a decree. It was the sound of a law being forged in thunder. The blue shockwave that erupted was not mere energy; it was his will made manifest, carving the fundamental runes of existence—Order, Gravity, Time, and Fate—into the very firmament of the new world.

The storm was the chaos of creation, now harnessed. The lightning was his voice, speaking a language of power the young world would now be forced to understand. He did not destroy it. He gave it purpose. He bound it to the Great Order of the cosmos and turned its potential for anarchy into a new, stable realm. This was the wrath of the Allfather: not a force of mindless destruction, but the awesome, terrifying, and beautiful act of bringing order to the chaos.