Reincarnated In Vikings

In heaven Silver city, a man stands around 6 feet 2 inches tall, with a well-built but slender frame that exudes a sense of elegance and authority. He has dark complexion, but most striking feature is undoubtedly his expressive face. His deep-set, soulful brown eyes are often described as windows to his wisdom, and they are framed by well-defined brows that add character to his gaze. His forehead is lined with the wisdom of age, and his salt-and-pepper hair.

He looked at the direction and muttered."Well it seems, I am right to choose him."

While Shiva sat cross-legged atop the sacred peak of Mount Kailash, his form radiating a serene yet commanding presence. His tall, powerfully-built figure was draped in tiger skins, the black and gold stripes gleaming faintly in the dim light of a celestial twilight. His perfect, fair skin seemed to glow with an otherworldly aura, contrasting with the dark, cascading matted locks of his hair that flowed like a river of shadows.

Around his neck, rudraksha beads swayed gently in the icy wind, their deep earthen hue grounding his ethereal visage. The crescent moon nestled in his hair emitted a soft, silver light, illuminating the sharp contours of his face—features carved with divine precision, both beautiful and intimidating. Beside him, the mighty Trishul stood embedded in the snow, its edges shimmering as if alive with latent power.

The mountain air was cold and still, the silence broken only by the faint whistle of the wind and the distant hum of the universe itself. Shiva's closed eyes reflected a deep, unshakable calm, as if he were the stillness at the heart of creation.

Suddenly, an invisible ripple coursed through existence—a tremor that spoke of power unleashed and balance disturbed. The faint hum grew louder, sharper, carrying with it the unmistakable resonance of a divine clash. Shiva's eyes snapped open, their deep, endless gaze brimming with both wisdom and mischief. A slow, knowing smile spread across his lips, revealing the quiet amusement of a god who had seen the rise and fall of countless worlds.

The icy winds picked up around him, carrying snowflakes in swirling spirals, as if it whispered something to him, his voice a deep, resonant echo.

"You are revealing yourself to the world, my friend," he said, his words heavy with meaning yet light with playful affection.

The crescent moon's glow brightened, and the Trishul seemed to hum faintly.

In the realm of Vaikuntha, Vishnu golden crown is tall, elaborately designed, and adorned with intricate patterns, which signifies royalty and divinity. It has a pointed peak with ornate edges and detailed carvings,

The man's expression is calm, composed, and slightly smiling, which portrays divinity, peace, and benevolence.His long hair flows down past his shoulders, he wears large golden earrings (kundals), which are circular in design and dangle prominently. Golden armbands (bajuband) on both arms add to his divine appearance.

A necklace with golden embellishments lies beneath layers of fresh flower garlands in white and purple hues.

The attire is bright gold and orange, symbolizing prosperity and divinity in Hindu culture.A draped silk-like garment is seen flowing elegantly across his body, showcasing a royal and celestial look.

On his top right Hand, he holds a conch shell, on his top Left Hand, he holds a pink lotus flower. Bottom Left Hand holds a Sudarshana Chakra and bottom Right Hand a counch shell.

The Sheshnaag, which has numerous hoods are spread out, creating a canopy over Vishnu's head, floats coiled upon space like it is a ocean, he forms a bed upon which Vishnu lies. Sometimes, he is depicted as a five-headed or seven-headed or a ten-headed serpent. By his side is his wife Lakshmi. Vishnu opened his eyes sensing this too and smiled."Merlin, my friend."

While in space a massive, ornate vessel that serves as both a divine chariot and a weapon of celestial might. Its design is a blend of ancient Egyptian aesthetics and futuristic, otherworldly technology, creating an awe-inspiring and regal presence.

The barge has a long, sleek form with curved, sweeping lines reminiscent of traditional Egyptian boats. It appears to float seamlessly in space, glowing with an intense, radiant energy.

At the core of the vessel is a towering structure resembling a temple and a throne. It is intricately designed with golden embellishments, symbolic carvings, and hieroglyphs, suggesting its divine origins. The central temple-like tower exudes authority, appearing as the command seat of Ra himself.

The barge is primarily golden, radiating brilliance and power. The polished gold surface is complemented by intricate detailing, giving the impression of a sacred artifact crafted by gods. Energy flows throughout the structure, represented by fiery orange and red hues, signifying its connection to the sun and raw cosmic energy.

Fiery, glowing streams of solar energy ripple across and around the barge, creating trails of golden fire that pulse with divine power.

Decorative Features

The sides of the barge are adorned with large, blade-like wings that curve outward. These wings are semi-transparent, resembling both sails and celestial fins. They shimmer faintly, as though imbued with light and energy, and add to the barge's ethereal beauty.

The Solar Barge glides effortlessly, propelled by divine energy rather than traditional means. Trails of golden flames follow its path, creating an impression of immense speed and grace. The barge seems to defy gravity and space itself, a testament to its godly origin.

This is the Solar barge of Ra, he cloaked in simple white robe and sharpening his weapon the Spear of Ra, when he felt the defeat of Ares.

The golden halls of Asgard shimmered with an ethereal light as Odin sat upon his throne, an imposing figure draped in layers of gilded armor and fur-trimmed robes. The throne room was a masterpiece of celestial craftsmanship—pillars of polished gold soared toward the heavens, adorned with intricate carvings of Asgard's victories and lore. Streams of light filtered through towering stained-glass windows, painting the room in hues of amber and crimson, as if the very air carried the essence of fire and divinity.

Odin's presence dominated the chamber. His weathered face, lined with both wisdom and scars of battles long past, bore a timeless charisma. Rugged and angular, his sharp cheekbones and prominent brow gave him an aura of regal authority, yet a glint of mischief danced in his piercing eyes—one icy blue, the other milky white, glowing faintly as if seeing beyond mortal comprehension. His scruffy beard and mustache framed his stern mouth, while his long, dark hair, streaked with silver, cascaded over his shoulders in untamed waves. It was the look of a king who had seen the rise and fall of eras and carried the weight of countless secrets.

Before him stood Loki and Thor. Thor, broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, was the embodiment of brute strength. His thick waist and protruding belly were shamelessly exposed, unarmored as if to flaunt his formidable vitality. His red hair, tied back in a simple elastic, glinted like fire under the golden light, and his beard, shorter but fuller, sported twin braids that swayed as he moved. Holstered to his hip was the legendary Mjölnir, its surface humming faintly with restrained power, a weapon that seemed almost alive.

Beside Thor, Loki stood with his signature air of cunning and poise, a stark contrast to his brother's raw might. Yet, it was Baldur who drew the eye next. Lean and sinewy, Baldur's physique defied expectations of a god. He seemed wiry, almost fragile, until one saw the coiled tension in his every movement, like a predator waiting to strike. His skin was a canvas of woad-blue tattoos—Norse runes etched into his flesh as if they were part of his very being. His icy blue eyes glimmered with an unsettling intensity, as though they could pierce through the veil of existence itself.

The air was thick with the sounds of feasting, laughter, and the clinking of goblets as Asgard's gods reveled in their eternal glory. Yet, amidst the revelry, Odin suddenly stiffened. His white eye flickered with an unnatural glow, a pulse of energy coursing through him. The All-Father tilted his head, his voice a low rumble as he muttered, "Interesting…"

While Thor, mid-swig of his mead, paused briefly, feeling a faint ripple of power, but shrugged it off with a dismissive chuckle. Baldur, leaning against a pillar, barely glanced up, his indifference unshaken.

Next was Sif, estranged wife of Thor, a goddess whose name was synonymous with beauty and elegance. Her most defining feature was her magnificent golden hair, cascading in thick, luminous waves that extended all the way to her knees. The strands shimmered like molten sunlight, their brilliance enhanced by an intricate arrangement of braids and ornaments.

Her primary braid, wide and regal, draped over her left shoulder, adorned with gleaming golden cuffs and delicate jewelry that spoke of her divine stature. At its tip hung an ornate golden hairpiece, exquisitely detailed, swaying gently with her every movement. Across her forehead, a golden headband stretched to her hairline, framing her features with a touch of majesty.

A thinner braid fell along her right side, reaching her thighs. It was woven with gold and blue hemp-fabric, adding an earthy yet regal contrast to her ethereal appearance. Her blue eyes, characteristic of the Aesir, sparkled with both wisdom and a sharp intensity, a fitting reflection of her strategic mind. Fair-skinned with delicate beauty marks dotting her face, Sif radiated an allure that was both soft and commanding.

Elaborate, swirl-like tattoos inked in a pale, ethereal blue marked her right arm, collarbone, and neck. These symbols of power and mysticism seemed to glow faintly in the golden light of Asgard's throne room, hinting at a depth to her that extended beyond mere beauty.

As Sif noticed what others dismissed. Her sharp eyes narrowed, and a flicker of curiosity danced within them.

Far away, amidst the forests and mountains, the fjords stretched into the distance, bathed in the pale light of Asgard's distant sun. In a secluded hut, a woman sat, her long chestnut hair tied near the end, with hawk feathers woven into its strands—a subtle nod to her untamed magic. Her piercing gaze swept across the landscape as her senses flared.

This was Freya, ex-wife of Odin, a goddess of beauty, war, and sorcery. Her two long braids framed a face both fierce and serene. She stood motionless, her presence commanding the quiet around her, the runes etched into her jewelry glowing faintly as she whispered a spell under her breath. Her connection to the pulse of power was stronger here, closer to its source. She closed her eyes, feeling the energy course through her veins.

As the winds whispered through the trees, carrying the promise of change, Freya's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Ares was defeated," she murmured.

While in Greek part of Underworld stretched infinitely, an eerie expanse cloaked in a bleak, monochromatic palette of white, gray, and black. Shadows twisted and danced across the barren terrain, their movements defying the natural flow of light.

Towering above this desolation was Hades' palace, a surreal and otherworldly construct. Its inverted spires plunged downward from the sky like jagged,obsidian stalactites. The structure appeared as though it had been torn from the heavens and forced to hang suspended, defying gravity. Its walls shimmered with a dark sheen, reflecting distorted images of the souls drifting aimlessly through the gray haze below.

Far below, the endless desert of the Underworld stretched into eternity. The landscape shimmered with a ghostly light, devoid of life yet pulsing with a quiet, otherworldly energy. The sands, ash-gray and shifting, seemed alive, moving in restless patterns as if stirred by the whispers of forgotten souls.

The rivers of the Underworld—Styx, Lethe, and Acheron—glowed faintly with an ethereal silver hue, their surfaces rippling without wind, as if stirred by unseen hands.

At the tip of this massive stalactite was Hades' palace. A structure carved from the very rock, its smooth, crystalline walls glowed faintly in places as though lit from within. The design was austere, an embodiment of power and solitude. The pathway that led to the palace was long and treacherous, flanked by jagged outcroppings and ending in a grand archway carved with scenes of life and death intertwined.

Inside, the palace was a cold, foreboding place. Its grand halls were lined with columns of black obsidian rock, their polished surfaces reflecting faint, distorted images of the flickering pale light. Shadows moved along the walls as if alive, dancing to the rhythm of some unseen force. The air was heavy, carrying a palpable weight that pressed upon the soul.

The throne room was vast, its emptiness emphasizing its sheer scale. The floors were a polished expanse of smooth, dark stone, devoid of decoration, save for faint veins of silver that snaked through the marble. At the far end of the chamber sat Hades' throne, a seat of authority carved from a single block of obsidian marble.

Seated on the throne was Hades, a figure as imposing as the realm he ruled. His bident, resembling Poseidon's trident but with two prongs instead of three, rested beside him, leaning against the throne. The weapon was crafted entirely from dark, cold metal, with faint inscriptions etched along its shaft. The handles, wrapped in worn black leather, bore the marks of centuries of use. Its tips gleamed faintly, sharp enough to pierce through gods and mortals alike.

At his side, a black crown sat upon a pedestal, its jagged design matching the austerity of the throne room. Hades' appearance reflected the starkness of his surroundings. His black robes, embroidered with thin threads of silver, fell around him like cascading shadows. The man has a lean face with prominent cheekbones and a slightly pointed chin. His forehead is lined with visible wrinkles, emphasizing an intense or experienced demeanor. He has wavy, dark brown hair with touches of gray, particularly around the sides, giving him a slightly aged or sophisticated appearance. He sports a short, well-maintained beard that complements his mature look. His eyes glowed faintly, carrying a quiet, simmering intensity that hinted at the depths of his power.

Hades frowned, resting his elbow on the armrest of his throne, he rubbed his temple, his voice low and irritated as he muttered, "It seems the dumb boy went and fought with Merlin." His words echoed faintly.

He leaned back slightly, his golden gaze distant as if he could see events unfolding in the mortal world. A faint scowl crossed his face, and he whispered to himself, "Let's hope Zeus didn't sense it."

Hades was right, Zeus didn't sense it because he was busy cheating on his wife.

While in the majestic underwater city of Atlantis, revealing its luminous expanse. Colossal coral-like towers spiral upward, their surfaces adorned with glowing runes, while shoals of bioluminescent fish weave between structures. The city's streets bustle with Merman, Mermaids and fantastical sea creatures, creating a sense of harmony and grandeur.

And in the throne room, a massive hall carved into a crystalline cavern. Streams of ethereal blue and green light filter in through translucent walls, casting shifting patterns on the floor. Pillars rise like ancient stalagmites, encrusted with coral and gold accents, each depicting scenes of oceanic conquest.

At the end of the hall sits Poseidon, the God of the Sea, upon his throne. The throne itself is a masterpiece—a blend of sculpted sea stones, glowing aquamarine gems, and swirling silver filigree that appears to move like ocean waves.

His short, dark brown hair is slightly wavy and tousled, as though always windswept by the ocean breeze. The subtle streaks of gray near his temples. He has strong structure with a square jawline that conveys authority and strength. High, well-defined cheekbones give his face a regal and statuesque quality.

His beard is neatly trimmed and matches the dark brown of his hair. It is short and well-maintained, with faint hints of gray that mirror the streaks in his hair. The faint shadow of stubble accentuates their shape, adding to his rugged, masculine charm.

His skin is weathered and sun-kissed, bearing a golden tan. The eyes are almond-shaped, intense, and slightly deep-set, giving him a penetrating gaze.A striking mix of blue and green, the eyes appear almost liquid, as if the ocean itself resides within them.

He wears intricately crafted silver-gray armor that resembles overlapping scales, evoking the imagery of fish. The armor gleams faintly, giving it a mystical, almost otherworldly quality. The shoulder plates are prominently designed, adding to his imposing figure and reinforcing his warrior-like presence.

Behind him, the backdrop of an endless ocean glows faintly with the energy of the sea.

Poseidon is clad in shimmering armor that mimics the scales of a shark, reflecting light with a metallic sheen. His silver-white Trident rests in his hand, an object of unmistakable power. The weapon gleams faintly, with a thin, ever-present ripple of energy pulsing along its length. The black leather grip near the midpoint of the Trident adds a practical yet regal touch. Every detail of the weapon speaks to its immense strength—both as a symbol and as a tool of divine power.

Poseidon's sharp, oceanic blue eyes narrow as he stares into the middle distance. He could sense, Ares's defeat. He muttered."Hope that brat learned his lesson."then looked up and thought"Hope Zeus doesn't go on a temper tantrums after hearing this."