Genshin Impact: Reincarnated As Fenrir The God Of Chaos

The sun hung high in the sky as a black raven and a white raven soared above the massive army marching forward. Another force advanced from the opposite direction, their movements deliberate and unyielding. The two birds glided down, landing on a high branch, their sharp eyes fixed on the battlefield about to erupt below.

"So, sister," the black raven murmured, nudging her gently with his wing. "Which side do you think will win?"

The white raven let out a sigh, her feathers ruffling in irritation. "Brother, I can't believe you find amusement in watching mortals slaughter each other."

"Of course, I do," he replied, a hint of mischief in his voice. "Nexus is boring. I'm tired of watching plays and musicals. Now this—this is real entertainment."

She let out a sound of disgust. "I, for one, am not amused."

"Then why don't you go down there?" he taunted.

"I'm not that foolish," she scoffed. "Breaking Odin's laws and meddling in Midgard's affairs? Only Flora is allowed to pass blessings, and even that has its limits."

"Yeah, yeah," he said dismissively. "So, how about a bet? One Nexus gold coin."

"No," she replied flatly, turning back to watch the impending battle.

Below, Oswald sat atop his horse, leading his noble house with unwavering resolve.

"Men, get ready!" he commanded, his voice carrying across the field.

Both sides halted, their banners flying high, their nations' colors on full display. A tense silence settled over the battlefield—a standoff, each side waiting for the moment when steel would clash and the ground would be stained with blood.

A thunderous battle cry erupted across the field as both sides clashed, swords flashing in the midday sun. One army fought with desperation, defending their home, while the other surged forward, determined to take it. Steel met steel, and men fell like autumn leaves, their cries lost in the chaos.

Oswald rode through the fray, his sword shimmering with a faint blue glow. With precise, swift strikes, he cut down enemy after enemy, his movements a blur of practiced skill. Beside him, his son, Godric, fought fiercely, his own blade enchanted and deadly. Together, they moved in perfect harmony, cutting through the tide of soldiers with ease.

Then, a figure emerged from the battlefield—a lone warrior clad in gleaming silver armor. His white hair flowed behind him, his piercing blue eyes cold and menacing. Without hesitation, he charged forward with unnatural speed, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat.

Oswald barely had time to react, raising his sword just in time to block the strike. The force of the impact sent a sharp tremor up his arm. Godric moved to help, but the warrior struck first, driving a boot into his chest. The blow sent Godric flying, tumbling across the dirt before coming to a breathless stop.

The battle raged on, swords ringing out in a deadly rhythm. No spells, no tricks—only the clash of steel and the raw struggle for survival. Oswald met each strike with precision, his blade moving in perfect counter to his opponent's. But the silver-armored warrior was unrelenting, his attacks swift and merciless.

Sparks flew as their weapons clashed, each blow forcing them to shift, weaving through the chaos of battle. Oswald's boots scraped against the bloodied dirt as he held his ground, every muscle burning with exertion.

Not far away, Godric pushed himself up, his vision still swimming from the impact. He spotted his father locked in combat and surged forward, desperation driving him. But before he could reach him, enemy soldiers intercepted his path. Gritting his teeth, he raised his sword, forced to fight his way through.

Without warning, the silver-armored warrior's movements became a blur, his strikes faster, more relentless. Oswald struggled to keep up, his defenses slipping with each clash of steel. His grip tightened, his breath came in ragged bursts—but it wasn't enough.

Then, in a flash of silver, pain tore through him. The warrior's blade pierced his chest, the cold steel driving deep. Oswald's body jolted, his strength faltering as the world around him seemed to slow.

"Live well, my sweet Aria… and my little girl, Rose."

His voice was barely a whisper, the warmth fading from his eyes as the last breath left his lips. 

"No!" Godric's roar tore through the battlefield, raw with fury and grief. His body moved on instinct, his sword crashing against the blade that had slain his father.

Every strike was precise, relentless. His opponent barely had a moment to counter, forced onto the defensive as Godric pressed forward, his movements fluid, his rage fueling his speed. Flames ignited along his blade, burning with his fury.

"Firebird!" he shouted, the heat surging around him. With a burst of speed, he lunged, his sword a blazing streak aimed straight for his enemy.

The silver-armored warrior reacted quickly, conjuring an ice wall in defense. But it wasn't enough. Godric tore through it, his sword cutting deep, landing a vicious strike.

For a moment, victory seemed within reach. But then—pain.

Godric barely had time to react before a cold, sharp sensation pierced through his back. His breath caught, his body stiffening as darkness crept into his vision.

A voice murmured behind him, smooth and almost amused. "Can't let you kill our emperor."

A man in dark armor stood there, his sword buried deep in Godric's back.

"Well, it seems the defenders have lost," the black raven remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. He stretched his wings lazily. "Let's go, sister. I'm starving."

Without another glance at the carnage below, the two ravens took to the sky, leaving the blood-soaked battlefield behind.