At the end of the mythological era, there was a cataclysmic battle that heralded the end of the Age of Gods. On the beautiful land of Northern Europe, a disaster known as the Fimbulwinter descended—a harbinger of the apocalypse, consisting of three consecutive, long and cold winters.
The sun lost its warmth, strong cold winds blew from all directions, and the world was devoid of warmth.
In the bone-chilling cold, the world was filled with suspicion and conflict.
War and malice dominated the world, and people everywhere hacked each other with spears or swords.
Blood stained the earth, and fragments of shields and armor were scattered everywhere. Hungry wild beasts roamed the wilderness in search of food. People no longer showed tolerance, understanding, or mutual assistance; instead, they turned against each other, with siblings killing each other and fathers and sons becoming enemies. In the ugly competition, they slaughtered each other, making the world extremely uneasy, with sin spreading like a plague.
The rooster Gullinkambi at the top of the World Tree crowed incessantly in warning, its cries hoarse and exhausted. The rooster Fjalar, perched on the roof of the Golden Palace, responded with equal effort. The three Norns, sitting by the withered World Tree, sighed as true disaster approached, and an epic battle unfolded.
This war swept across the nine worlds nestled in the World Tree. Whether a lowly slave or a lofty god, all were forced to fight, fight, and fight again until they fell, meeting an equal death.
The king of the gods, the absolute ruler, Odin, died in the jaws of the giant wolf Fenrir.
Fenrir was then pierced through the heart by Odin's child, Vidar.
The war god Tyr perished alongside the hellhound Garm.
The greatest warrior of the god realm, Thor, killed the world serpent Jormungandr with his hammer but succumbed quickly to the serpent's venom.
Loki, the instigator of the great battle, had his head severed by Heimdall, the guardian of the Bifröst, but not before Loki pierced Heimdall's chest in turn.
The battlefield was piled high with the corpses of gods, giants, and monsters, turning the plains into a sea of blood. The black dragon Nidhogg flew over the battlefield, its wings making terrifying sounds as it greedily devoured the still-warm, blood-stained corpses. The sky emitted a blood-red glow, dyeing both the heavens and the earth a deep crimson. There were few figures left standing on the battlefield. At this moment, Surtur cast his victorious sword into the sky, and in the blazing flames of the red lotus, Midgard was engulfed in a sea of fire. Pillars of flames pierced the world, dense smoke engulfed mountain peaks, and the World Tree, which supported the world, was consumed by fire and collapsed, leading to the destruction of the entire world.
Stars fell from the firmament, time ceased to exist, and the charred ground sank into the tumultuous sea. All that was visible were towering waves, leaving the world in dead silence and eternal darkness.
A woman walked into this devastated world. She passed through the deep dark sea, the battlefield engulfed in flames, and the collapsing World Tree, finally arriving at the now-dry Well of Wisdom.
There, she obtained Odin's last secret, the final fragment of the primordial runes, and from the remnants of the war and the ashes of destruction, she gathered all the runes to create magic to commemorate this war and this nearly lost civilization.
In Shinji;s consciousness, it seemed like an eternity had passed, though in the real world, not even a second had elapsed.
Shinji's eyes regained clarity, and he mumbled to himself.
"So this is 'Ragnarok'?"
Ragnarok was the name of that epic battle, as well as the name of this ultimate magic.
"Indeed, it is the culmination of rune magic, the greatest of great magics. To date, no disciple has mastered this magic. Matou Shinji, can you surprise me?"
Scathach's voice was unchanged as if she were speaking of something trivial.
"I may disappoint you, as I haven't even touched the edge of high-level rune usage. But the vision you showed me has indeed given me new insights. I will interpret what I saw in my way, and I hope you don't mind."
Shinji slowly lifted the crystal in his hand, which contained immense energy. The light radiating from within added a touch of fantasy to the deep sea.
The Queen of the Shadow Land smiled, her laughter filled with gratification: "This is the surprise I want to see. What is the point of unchanging things? Go ahead, my disciple."
"Yes, Shishou, I will not let you down."
Encouraged by Scathach, Shinji's fighting spirit burned fiercely, surpassing even the boiling sea caused by Shirou.
"Amakusa Shirou Tokisada, you may have reached the pinnacle of the sword, but I am about to use a technique of equal pinnacle. Let's see if your sword is stronger or my magic."
With a slight spread of his hands, the blue crystal in his palms dispersed, merging with the sea, leaving only a clear droplet that resembled the primordial water of myth.
In the next moment, the seawater began to surge, tumble, and swirl under an invisible force, increasing in volume and speed. Within seconds, even the sea surface started to shake.
At the same time, Shinji began to chant loudly, his voice spreading outward through the vibration of his mental power, still clearly audible even at an altitude of 7,500 meters.
"The horn of Heimdall sounded, heralding the doom of Asgard."
The turbulent sea suddenly dented downward, dark currents swirling rapidly, intertwining into a massive whirlpool.
"The vanquished gods drowned in the flames of Surtur and were devoured by the waves."
The whirlpool expanded, rising, occupying a vast area of the sea surface and extending to the seabed, exposing the sea floor that carried the seawater and the source driving the ocean currents—a magus holding a water droplet.
"The age of gods has fallen, and the age of man begins."
The droplet fell, soaking the magician's hands, and cast a seed of order into the chaotic sea currents.
The sea currents halted simultaneously, the whirlpool disintegrated, and at the moment of disintegration, a new force drew them together, forming nine giant dragons.
The dragons raised their heads and let out deafening roars.
"It's not a bomb after all..."
Having completed his preparations, Shirou's eyebrows twitched, his eyes gleaming with an inexplicable light.
"Water element, water magic—very well, let's have a true battle of water and fire!"
Facing the overwhelming waves raised by the nine water dragons, Shirou delivered a single slash, from left to right, resembling the first calligraphy lesson—"Horizontal."
This slash contained all the heat of the Blade of Ember.
The blackness on the sword extended outward along this "horizontal," leaving a bold, ink-like mark in the air.
Though it was just one slash, it surpassed hundreds, even thousands of slashes. Where the fire mark passed, everything burned—water, air, even space itself.
The swordsman who commanded flames and the magus who wielded the ocean made their final declarations.
"With this slash, burn everything to ashes—Blade of Ember, North: The World Reduced To Ashes!"
"The twilight of the end, the ultimate epic—Ragnarok · Saga (Epic · Twilight of the Gods)!"
Then, the fire mark cut down, the dragons soared, and water and fire collided.
It was as if a mythical battle was reenacted, and the end of the world reappeared.