Herobrine in Marvel...again

(Muspelheim)

Surtur sat lazily on his throne, a massive, fiery blade resting beside him as he absentmindedly twirled a gaming controller in his free hand. His eyes flickered with mild annoyance as he listened to the three golden-haired Norns standing before him, their expressions grave and mysterious clearly trying to intimidate him.

"So you are telling me," Surtur drawled, "that Buri's children—those Asgardian brats are destined to destroy my realm?" His molten gaze bore on the sisters, unimpressed. "That's a bold claim. Are you asking to be burned alive?"

The Norn sisters didn't flinch. Verðandi, the middle sister, smiled as if speaking to a particularly slow student. "Believe it or not, great Surtur, we are merely messengers of fate. We have foreseen this future and thought it only fair to warn you."

"Fair?" Surtur scoffed. "What, you expect me to kneel and start screaming 'Oh no! My doom is coming! Whatever shall I do?'" He leaned forward, resting his chin on his knuckles. "Tch. You are wasting your breath. Destiny isn't some unbreakable chain—it's just a challenge waiting to be crushed under my boot."

Skuld, the youngest and most arrogant of the three, smirked. "Even the strongest cannot escape destiny, Surtur. The thread of fate, woven by the Loom of the Fates, is absolute."

Surtur's eye twitched. These three really thought they could manipulate him? Did they think he was some foolish king who would start panicking and accidentally fulfill their prophecy in trying to stop it?

Hah. As if.

Thanks to a certain visitor (Herobrine, that mad genius), Surtur had been introduced to a whole new world of entertainment. He had read stories—so many stories—where some idiot ruler hears a prophecy and tries to change it, only to make it come true.

Classic blunder.

If anything, these sisters standing before him were the real threat, trying to nudge fate in their desired direction.

Well, tough luck, because Surtur wasn't playing that game.

With a scoff, he leaned back in his throne and waved them off dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. I get it. 'The mighty Surtur will fall, boohoohoo.'" He yawned. "Destiny this, fate that—look, I don't have time for your cryptic nonsense. I have better things to do."

The Norns stiffened, clearly not expecting such a nonchalant response.

Urd, the eldest, tried to regain control of the conversation. "Surtur, this isn't something you can ignore. We—"

"—are leaving."

Surtur stood, grabbing Twilight, his legendary sword, and pointing it at them. His blazing form flared with irritation. "Before I decide to test whether you 'fate-weavers' can weave your way out of getting incinerated."

"You—" Urd started, but before she could finish, a low growl rumbled behind them.

The sisters turned, and their expressions finally shifted to actual fear.

A massive fire demon dog, easily the size of a fortress, was prowling behind them, embers dripping from its fanged maw as it licked its lips hungrily.

The beast drooled lava, its molten tongue slapping against the ground with a hiss.

"Garmr!" Surtur called out in a mockingly sweet tone. "These guests were just leaving. But if they don't leave fast enough… well, you do need your dinner, don't you?"

The firehound grinned—if something that massive could even grin—before taking a slow, deliberate step forward, eyes gleaming with murderous intent.

"Y-you—" Urd started again, but her words quickly turned into a panicked shriek as the three sisters frantically teleported away in a flash of golden light.

The moment they were gone, Surtur let out a chuckle. "Hah. And they call themselves 'fate-weavers.' Pathetic."

Garmr let out a disappointed whine.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Surtur sighed, patting the giant beast's snout. "You wanted a snack. Next time, buddy."

With the Norns gone, Surtur sat back down and picked up his controller again, the glow of his lava throne dimming slightly as he relaxed.

Surtur lounged lazily on his magma throne, controller in hand, ready to immerse himself in yet another one of Ender's "masterpieces." He muttered under his breath, still irritated by the Norns' failed attempt at manipulating him.

"Damn oracles trying to manipulate me," he grumbled, his molten eyes flickering as he navigated the game menu. "They could have at least tried a more original lie. Like, 'Oh no, Surtur, a Celestial will appear and destroy your realm!'"

"Ahem… That might actually be true."

Surtur's hand froze over the controller. His burning gaze shifted to the side, where a heavily built man with a thick, golden beard and Viking-style armor stood awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head.

Surtur groaned. "Buri, don't tell me you are here to ask for my Fire Whisky again, or worse, another copy of The Journey of the War God. I told you, I am not giving you any of it! Get lost."

Buri coughed into his fist, looking genuinely embarrassed. "Ahem. Actually… no. I came to tell you something important." His voice turned serious, his expression grim.

That got Surtur's attention. The Fire Giant Lord put down his controller, narrowing his fiery eyes. "Important? Tch. Fine. Out with it."

Buri took a deep breath, then dropped the cosmic bombshell.

"A Host of Celestials is coming to Aesheim."

Silence.

Surtur blinked once. Then twice.

"...And?"

Buri's brow twitched. "AND?! Surtur, did you not hear what I just said?! A Host! One of them has already reached Aesheim, probably searching for the remains of the fallen Celestial Progenitor!"

Surtur sighed dramatically, stretching his massive arms. "Ugh. Looks like my dungeon run will have to wait." He muttered under his breath before waving Buri to continue.

"Sister Gaia warned me to prepare for a potential confrontation," Buri went on, "but she also said not to engage unless it's absolutely unavoidable. She doesn't want to start a war with them unless necessary."

Surtur clicked his tongue, leaning back into his throne. "Tch. That woman's too careful sometimes… But fair enough. A Celestial War is too much trouble, even for me."

Then, as if he were the one dropping an apocalyptic revelation, Surtur lazily threw out his own bombshell.

"By the way, those damn Norns are definitely plotting something. And I think it might be related to them."

Buri froze. His normally composed face paled ever so slightly.

"...Them?"

"Yep."

"As in..."

"Mhm."

Buri let out a long, tired sigh, rubbing his temples as he processed this new disaster. "Looks like the cosmic chessboard is being set up again," he muttered.

Surtur snorted. "Cosmic chess? Please. I prefer to think of it as a cosmic battle royale." He smirked, cracking his knuckles. "And if the game's about to begin… then I better be ready to burn down the board."

(Set)

The fallen Elder God slithered into the depths of his darkened dimension, his serpentine form coiling around the ruined remnants of his once-glorious throne. The oppressive silence of his domain did little to soothe the simmering rage that had festered over the millennia.

For the first time in ages, he felt it—an all-too-familiar presence washing over reality like a tidal wave of raw creation.

A Celestial.

Set's slit-pupiled eyes narrowed as he hissed in contemplation. "Why has one of those wretched titans come to Earth?" His voice dripped with venom. "Are they searching for the fallen one… or is there something else they seek?"

The thought of it ignited a deep-rooted fury within him. His coils tightened, the ground beneath him cracking under the sheer weight of his anger. He had been defeated. First by Herobrine, that maddening anomaly, and then, as if fate sought to mock him, by his own son—Atum, the so-called Godslayer.

A deep, guttural growl rumbled from his throat. His hunger for revenge burned hotter than ever, but for now, he was patient.

His glowing eyes flickered as a presence slithered toward him from the shadows. The deformed, lizard-like creature bowed low, its elongated tongue flickering.

"Father… you called?"

"Sligguth," Set addressed his faithful servant. "Command the Serpent Men. Have them infiltrate and investigate this Celestial's arrival. Let them watch, listen, and wait for the opportune moment."

Sligguth's forked tongue flickered as he rasped, "And if the opportunity presents itself… shall we?"

Set's lips curled into a wicked, fanged grin. "If the Serpent Men can harvest even a fragment of the Celestial's genetic essence—a mere sliver of their cosmic gifts—then perhaps I shall begin my ascent once more."

Sligguth's yellowed eyes widened with glee at the implications. If their kind could absorb even a fragment of a Celestial's power, they would evolve beyond their feeble, discarded forms.

"Do not be reckless," Set warned. "The Celestials are not foes to be challenged lightly. But if a moment presents itself… we will take what is needed."

As Sligguth slithered away to carry out his father's bidding, Set turned his gaze toward the infinite darkness of his prison.

"Enjoy your reign while it lasts, Atum. For when I rise again, the Serpent will devour the Sun."

~~~~~

Set is really a tough nut to crack man.

While Firehair and Odin are still children, the battle will not start now. The Earth, compared to other planets, is small, but it is still a very large place for humans.

Ender obviously warned about Those Who Sit Above In Shadows.

Surtur had become an Otaku.

Zgreb will have a hard time breaking the seal made by Ender.