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The Awakening of Freyr – Preparing for the Ice Hockey Match
Ezan was a beast on the soccer field, a force of pure dominance, but ice hockey was another battlefield entirely. The skates, the ice, the need for fluidity instead of brute power, it frustrated him beyond words. He trained harder than anyone, pushed himself past the limit, but something wasn’t clicking. Even with advice from Briar, the Ace of Ice Hockey, and Icelander Daniel, the breakthrough never came. He hated feeling like this, hated the uncertainty, the stagnation. Ezan was unstoppable, but now he was stuck.
After another brutal practice, he stormed into the Golden Army headquarters, dropping into his chair. His golden eyes flicked to the match schedule. The Golden Army vs. Pachy Pack. The toughest team they’d face this season. His jaw clenched. His fingers drummed against the desk. He skipped practice the next day, not because he was giving up but because he couldn’t stomach the frustration anymore. Instead, he showed up as Percival, the team’s head office manager. He strategized, analyzed, watched every move, but even Percival couldn’t fix what was missing.
After another crushing session, he sat alone in the locker room, head in his hands. Daniel walked in, saying nothing, just placing a steady hand on his shoulder. That quiet presence said more than words ever could. Percival exhaled deeply, leaning into it, and in that instant, Daniel was gone. Fenrir stood in his place, silver-white fur shimmering under the dim lights, golden eyes filled with knowing. Percival didn’t resist. He let himself collapse into the warmth, the strength, the raw presence of the wolf god. No talking. No thinking. Just acceptance.
The next afternoon, Percival left the Golden Stadium, walking until the world around him turned quiet. The Eldingr Woods stretched before him, the scent of pine and fresh earth filling his lungs. The Vetrgull River shimmered like molten gold in the fading light, and there, at the edge of the tree line, stood the stag. Massive. Watching him. Its antlers gleamed like polished gold, eyes locked onto him with divine weight. He followed without hesitation, deeper into the untouched parts of the forest, until they arrived at a massive rune stone, golden inscriptions glowing along its surface.
At its base lay a cloak, The Shimmering Golden Stag Cloak. It pulsed with something more than magic, something more than power. It was a calling. Percival reached for it, and the moment it draped over his shoulders, his body ignited. Energy surged through every muscle. His mind expanded, memories of past lives crashing over him. His form shifted, golden eyes burning with an icy-blue fire, hair braided into Nordic patterns, veins glowing with divine strength. He was no longer Percival. No longer Ezan. The stag had not just guided him. It had awakened him. He had become Freyr.
When Freyr stepped back onto the Golden Army’s field, the entire team felt it before they saw him. The air shifted. The energy changed. The players stopped mid-motion. The drones froze in place. The golden bros turned, eyes wide. He walked in, golden veins pulsing, power radiating from his very existence. Ezan had been a powerhouse. Percival had been a strategist. But Freyr was something beyond both. He did not just command strength. He granted it. He did not just inspire loyalty. He was worshipped. The Golden Army had a new force among them, and now, they were ready for war.
That night, when Ezan stepped onto the ice, there was no hesitation. No doubt. He moved with effortless precision, each stride fluid, each movement calculated. He was faster. Sharper. Unstoppable. Briar smirked. "Looks like you finally figured it out, bro." Daniel grinned. "Took you long enough." Ezan rolled his shoulders, his golden gaze gleaming under the arena lights. "Nah. I just remembered who the fuck I am." The whistle blew. The puck dropped. And with the power of a god fueling him, Ezan dominated the ice like he was born to rule it.
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