Ragnarök- The end of All Gods

 Loki leans against a rock, staring into the fire. The embers glow like dying stars, flickering, fading just like the world once did. He exhales, tilting his head.

"You already know how my son, Fenrir, broke free. Good. But Ragnarök? Oh, that was so much more. Let me tell you how the world really burned."

“Alright, the young kid told me to add this historical fact. Are you happy now? In any case, I still believe that the version in which I began Ragnarok by stealing Thor's left sock was better. Whatever.”

---

The first sign wasn’t the war. No, no. The first sign was the wolves. Sköll and Hati, my dear little hunters, had been chasing the sun and moon since the beginning of time. And on that fated day, they finally caught them.

With a snap of their jaws, the sky went black.

No warmth, no light just endless night stretching across the Nine Realms. And oh, how the world panicked! They always thought the gods would protect them, that Odin would always sit on his golden throne, watching over them. Fools.

And then, the earth itself cracked open.

From the depths of the sea, Jörmungandr, my great serpent, rose. His body uncoiled, stretching across the world, his breath poisoning the very air. The ocean churned in fury, swallowing cities whole.

And the dead? They woke.

Deep in Hel, my daughter smiled from her throne. She opened the gates, and her army poured out souls of the damned, warriors lost to time, all marching under the banner of the end.

And at the edge of the sea, the ship Naglfar loomed. A monstrous thing, built from the fingernails of the dead, sailing on waves of blood. And who stood at its helm?

Me.

Oh, how the gods must have shivered when they saw it.

Odin, that old, one-eyed fool, gathered his warriors. His Einherjar, his beloved chosen dead, readied for battle. Thor, his golden champion, raised Mjolnir. Freyr, Heimdall, Tyr they all stood waiting, weapons in hand, knowing that fate had already sealed their doom.

And then, it began.

---

The Battle of the End

The first to fall was Odin.

He faced Fenrir head-on, spear in hand, riding into battle like the king he thought he was. But destiny is cruel, and fate is unbreakable. The wolf's jaws closed around him, swallowing him whole.

Thor, mighty, foolish, heroic Thor he fought Jörmungandr. Lightning against venom, hammer against fangs. He struck the serpent down, shattered its skull. But the poison oh, the poison. It filled his lungs, burned his veins. He staggered, gasped, and then, the thunder god fell.

Tyr fought Garmr, the monstrous hound of Hel. They ripped each other apart, teeth sinking into flesh, claws tearing through skin. In the end, both lay still, locked in death’s embrace.

And Heimdall? Oh, Heimdall.

He found me.

Blade met blade. Sparks flew. He was strong, I’ll give him that. But I had rage. I had vengeance. And in the end, I struck him down.

But not before he did the same to me. Yeah it was painful.

The world burned.

Surtr, the fire giant, strode forward, his flaming sword cutting through gods and men alike. He raised it high, and with one final swing . He set the world ablaze.

Flames consumed everything. The seas boiled. The mountains crumbled. The very sky split apart, shattering into fire and ruin.

And then… silence.

Nothing but smoke and ash.

The gods were gone. The monsters were gone. The world was gone.

---

A New Dawn

But endings? Endings are funny little things.

Because from the ruin, from the ashes, something stirred. A tiny, fragile green shoot, pushing up through the scorched earth. A new beginning. A new world. A world without gods.

Loki smirks, his eyes distant, flickering like the dying embers before him.

"And that, little listeners, is how it all ended. How they fell, how I fell."

His voice drops, quieter now, almost… tired.

"But don’t worry. The end? The end is never really the end, is it? And the gods are little tricksters they still die, or do they?"