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A New Identity Every Week - Chapter 112: An Extraordinary Gift! The Celestials’ Existence!
🕑 Added 2025-10-22 04:37:48 +0000 UTCThere exists a hierarchy among gods.
A deity’s strength is set the moment their divinity awakens—and clearly, Herman’s divine power was something even Odin could not ignore.
No, more than that—it was a force that inspired fear even in Odin himself. He knew this Earth-chosen divine sovereign, blessed with divinity, would one day become a being so terrifying that gods across the cosmos would tremble before him.
Had this been Odin in his youth, confronted with the unknown and with fear, he would never have been so calm. But now, he could face any situation with composure—though that was only because he believed Herman’s power originated from Earth alone.
The Sky Father–level god-king could not have imagined that “Earth’s Divine Sovereign” was just one of Herman’s many identities.
And in the future, Herman would gain even more. Odin was not mistaken about one thing: Herman would certainly grow to surpass him.
“You’re afraid I’ll seek power and knowledge the way you once did—by starting wars across the cosmos?” Herman had already guessed Odin’s concerns.
In the first half of his life, Odin could hardly be called a merciful king. In truth, Hela, the Goddess of Death, was little different from him in those years—both pursued power at any cost.
Odin’s change wasn’t false benevolence, but the awakening of a god-king who one day realized the truth and chose a different path.
Hela, however, was a tragedy. Unlike Odin, she never made that change. She became a hindrance to Asgard’s future.
Odin tried many times to guide her, but every effort failed. In the end, he had no choice but to imprison her.
It wasn’t a case of “using and discarding.” Odin had simply realized that endless conquest and violence would only bring ruin to Asgard.
There was more than one way to grow stronger. And perhaps, he felt some guilt toward his daughter. Otherwise, imprisoning her would never have been enough.
Never underestimate a king’s resolve to preserve his rule. Had Odin felt no guilt, he would never have allowed Hela the chance to break free after his death.
Perhaps he meant to give her another chance. Or perhaps he only wanted her to trigger Ragnarok. No one could ever truly know Odin’s mind.
After all, even if Hela were slain during Ragnarok, she would enter Valhalla in the otherworld, not vanish completely.
“Yes. I won’t deny it—I do worry. Violence can only force fear and submission, never true loyalty.”
“Power born of violence is nothing but hollow strength. Only when you have something you cherish, and the resolve to protect it, can you become truly invincible.” Odin was sharing the wisdom he had gathered over a lifetime.
His warning came from genuine goodwill, sincere and heartfelt. But it was also meant to keep Herman from repeating his mistakes—from dragging Asgard into endless conquest and letting it become nothing more than a stepping stone in his growth.
“I don’t need war to become stronger.” Herman’s voice was calm. He had no intention of becoming the kind of god Odin feared.
Odin studied him carefully, and when he was sure the words came from Herman’s heart, a relaxed smile spread across his face.
“You don’t need war to grow stronger? If only I had known that sooner... It’s clear you’re prouder, and far wiser, than I ever was.” Odin’s tone carried wistful regret, yet his praise was sincere.
Still, he misunderstood Herman’s intent.
He thought Herman disdained conquest as a path to strength.
But was that the truth?
In reality, Herman’s thinking had nothing to do with pride. Why fight and struggle when he could grow stronger lying at home?
With the [All-Seeing Eye] granting him new identities, his power would only keep rising. Why put himself through the hardship of conquest?
Herman preferred the path of effortless victory. If Odin knew the truth, his expression would be priceless.
“You possess greater wisdom than I, more potential than my son, and an advantage none of us share~”
Seeing Herman’s state was far better than expected, Odin spoke with delight, eager to offer guidance.
He was a seasoned god-king.
And no matter what, there were still things about him that Herman could learn. Asgard’s loyalty to Thor was, in truth, only because their loyalty had always belonged to Odin.
“What advantage?”
Herman raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. Aside from his cheat, what other edge could he possibly have over the gods of Asgard?
Could Odin have seen through the power of the [All-Seeing Eye]?
Of course not.
“You possess abundant emotion—what some call human nature. Some see it as a weakness, but I believe it is a rare gift.”
“It is through this very quality that humanity, despite its frail form, has step by step reached where it stands today, surviving trials that should have been impossible to endure.”
“I’ve witnessed your changes with my own eyes, and I’ve learned much from you. Only by guiding power with humanity can one avoid becoming enslaved by it.”
Odin spoke steadily, his voice rich and resonant, like a storyteller weaving a tale.
“On Earth, there’s a professor who also believes emotion can overcome anything.” Herman, of course, meant Professor Charles.
“And do you believe it?”
Odin’s gaze fixed on Herman.
“Before anything truly life-changing happens, I’m willing enough to give it a try.” Herman was never one for empty platitudes.
Still, he had seen people unleash tremendous potential because of love. He had seen a mother shield her baby with her life during an earthquake, protecting her child even as buildings collapsed around them.
Ordinary humans, driven by emotion, could wrest a chance for survival from the very jaws of destruction. It was hard to dismiss Odin’s and Charles’ belief as baseless.
Even in the Marvel Universe, there were countless examples of people unlocking unimaginable power because of emotion—Herman simply hadn’t experienced it for himself.
And if he hadn’t experienced something personally, he would never fully believe in it. He was, after all, just an orphan who had never known love.
That was why, when he first arrived in the Marvel Universe, he took in Skye. Why, when he met Quicksilver and Wanda, he immediately chose to keep them close.
Again and again, Herman told himself it was to establish his pantheon. But who exactly made up that pantheon didn’t matter much to him.
He only needed them as the foundation to ignite the Fire of the God-King. In truth, he simply felt sympathy for those whose lives resembled his own.
That was the same reason he agreed to help Kara find her cousin.
“Heh...”
A sudden realization stirred in Herman.
Under Odin’s words, he seemed to touch on something he had never faced before—or perhaps something he had always tried to avoid.
“You pulled me into this place just to teach me a lesson?” Herman curled his lip, glancing at the Asgardian king before him.
“If you had this much skill, you should have used it on your children. Maybe they wouldn’t be so reckless and stubborn now.”
He made no effort to hide his knowledge of Asgard.
“Hahaha, finding a chat with an old man like me dull?” Odin laughed again, his eyes drifting to the surging sea below the cliff. “Children have their own paths. They’ve done well already. Truly, I believe the two of them will do even better in the future.”
Some claimed Odin never loved Loki, that he only used him in his schemes against the Frost Giants. But in truth, Odin had placed just as much hope in Loki as he had in Thor.
“Either way, I appreciate your words today. I’ve gained much from them.” Herman could feel the changes in the flickering flame of his divinity.
He gave Odin a sincere thanks.
“I’m just an old man who likes to reminisce and complain. If it helped you, that’s good enough.” Odin pulled out a handful of fruit from somewhere.
He tossed some into the raging sea below, and at once, a whale so massive it seemed to blot out the sky leapt from the waves to devour them.
“If you ever feel like talking again, just call me. Hmm, I doubt Asgard-to-Earth calls rack up roaming fees.”
Herman peered down over the cliff, an odd urge to jump flickering through him.
“Ready to go back?”
Odin sounded more like a chatty old man on a street corner than the king of Asgard.
“There are people waiting for me on Earth. It wouldn’t be right to keep them waiting too long.” Herman truly had no desire to linger in Odin’s domain.
Odin might look like a kindly elder now, but the name and might of the Asgardian king still echoed throughout the Nine Realms.
Who could say whether he might suddenly turn against him?
“Don’t you really want a new hammer? You seem rather interested in that one. Honestly, I could forge you something better. That secondhand piece down there—let my useless son keep it.”
Odin almost sounded worried that Herman might return and snatch Thor’s treasured hammer outright.
“I’ve no interest in swinging a hammer. If you really want to gift me something, perhaps something else?” Herman knew Asgard’s vault was full of treasures. He’d even thought about trading the [A Bottle of Never-Ending Wine] with the future new king, Thor, in exchange for a few.
The Thunder God was a drunkard.
It wouldn’t be hard to bargain many things away from him.
“Not fond of hammers?”
Odin seemed to mull it over, then asked in a lighter tone, “What about a spear? Very imposing.”
The casual suggestion—delivered like he was discussing dinner—was enough to catch Herman off guard. He had stayed composed since Odin pulled him into this realm, but now he froze.
“A spear?”
His pupils narrowed slightly.
“Not interested?” Odin’s expression remained calm and pleasant.
“Is it the one I’m thinking of?”
Herman’s face shifted. He suspected he was overthinking—after all, Valkyries were also known to carry spears.
“Hmm? Well, that depends on which one you have in mind.”
Odin opened his palm. A flare of white light revealed an ancient spear, its presence radiating the cold weight of countless battles.
Even without knowing what it was, one could sense the killing aura ingrained into it. This was the very spear Odin had used to conquer the Nine Realms.
“Gungnir—the Eternal Spear. My old companion… it’s time it was entrusted to one worthy of it.”
Odin’s gaze lingered on the weapon, his expression heavy with memory.
All knew Odin as the highest of the Norse gods: King of the Gods, Lord of the Dead, God of War, of Power, of Magic. Beyond his strength, he held two legendary treasures.
One was his steed, Sleipnir.
A snow-white, eight-legged stallion. Many of his worshippers believed storms were nothing more than Odin riding it across the skies to gather souls.
It was a divine beast in its own right, but Odin’s greatest treasure was this—Gungnir, the Eternal Spear.
Its ability was simple, yet absolute: once thrown, it always struck its target. It could pierce anything it touched and would return to its master’s hand from anywhere when summoned.
In Norse tales, when Odin hurled it, the spear would cut across the heavens, shining so brightly that mortals below mistook it for lightning—or a meteor.
“You’re saying… you want to give me this spear?”
Staring at the weapon, Herman found the situation absurd. Even in generosity, Odin shouldn’t go this far.
He had only asked casually.
If Odin had been feeling generous, Herman had expected some kind of welcome gift.
Perhaps a crafted weapon.
Perhaps that Infinity Gauntlet replica from Asgard’s vault.
Or, if Odin had ulterior motives, maybe the Eternal Flame—hoping Herman would use it to avert Ragnarök.
But this?
Never had he imagined Odin, the god-king of Asgard, would offer Gungnir—a weapon nearly synonymous with his royal authority.
“Thor does not need it for his coronation. It is not a symbol of Asgard’s power. I would rather he not cling to the glory it represents. A king’s authority must always come from the love and care he gives his people.”
Odin wasn’t joking. He closed his hand, and the Eternal Spear shifted into the form of a ring.
Intricate runes shimmered across its surface—so profound that Herman could not yet decipher them.
“Better this than letting it become a toy for children to fight over. I believe it should follow a new god-king, to witness another legend and myth take shape.” Odin’s expression hardened as he solemnly extended the ring toward Herman.
“May it serve wisdom. May it rise with you to glory.” With his blessing, Odin added another divine inscription to Gungnir.
“You’re serious?”
Herman still hesitated.
He couldn’t understand why Odin would offer such a gift. No—this wasn’t mere goodwill. It was far beyond that.
“Take it. I rarely give gifts. Don’t leave me embarrassed.” Odin spoke as if entrusting a child to another’s care.
In his eyes lingered sorrow, reluctance, and a tangle of emotions.
“Gungnir…”
Herman wasn’t one to overthink. Seeing Odin’s determination, he stopped questioning.
“Then I hope I won’t fail it.”
He accepted the ring. It pulsed faintly in response—the weapon, of course, had its own will.
“I don’t like owing favors. So, I’ll keep an eye on your son.” Herman gave Odin a firm nod.
Then, without hesitation, he leapt from the cliff. He hadn’t been idle earlier; he’d already gained some understanding of this strange realm.
“The power to devour gods and demons… I hope I haven’t chosen wrongly.”
Odin stared at the sea below, now empty of Herman’s presence. He looked at his bare finger, feeling oddly unaccustomed without the ring.
“He might be the only one able to resist those creatures.” Odin’s mind drifted back to a battle in his youth.
One he had lost completely.
Defeated by that race who called themselves Celestials—who had promised they would one day return.
“I only hope… the Celestials truly are gods.”
