It didn't take long for everyone to gather in the arena. Without much entertainment in their daily lives, the Vanir flocked toward the spectacle like moths to flame. After all, it wasn't every day two gods fought—especially a king and the heir of Asgard.
In a realm where boredom was practically a natural resource, the duel promised better entertainment than any festival. The crowd buzzed with excitement, voices rising in anticipation. Children climbed onto their parents' shoulders for better views, elders leaned forward with gleaming eyes, and even battle-hardened warriors felt the familiar rush of bloodlust.
In the center of the arena, Thor and Aegir faced each other across the sandy ground. While Thor remained battle-ready in his gleaming armor, Aegir had changed from his uncomfortable ceremonial dress into light sparring clothes that allowed for better movement. His arms were bare, revealing the intricate runic tattoos that covered his skin in flowing patterns—some glowing faintly with contained power.
"So," Thor called out, spinning Mjolnir casually. "The new Sea Lord wishes to test himself against the might of Asgard? I admire your courage, if not your judgment."
"Courage has nothing to do with it," Aegir replied, rolling his shoulders. "You wanted this spar, remember? I'm just accommodating my guests. Wouldn't want anyone saying Vanaheim lacks hospitality."
Thor's smile widened, predatory. "Your hospitality is noted. Let's see if your combat prowess matches your boast."
"Careful what you wish for, Prince Thor," Aegir said, settling into a ready stance. "You might not like what you find."
From the sidelines, Loki leaned against a pillar, observing with keen interest. "This should be enlightening," he murmured to Sif. "Either we're about to witness a spectacular humiliation, or our dear brother has finally found someone who can match his arrogance."
Sif's expression remained neutral, arms crossed. "Thor has never lost a fair fight. This will be no different."
"Perhaps," Loki said, though his tone suggested he wasn't entirely convinced. "But our new Sea Lord seems remarkably calm for someone about to face the Thunder God. Either he's a fool, or he's quite confident in his abilities."
In the arena, Thor had grown tired of waiting. "Come on then!" he shouted, raising Mjolnir high. "Show me what the last of the Vanir royal line can do!"
"Since you asked so nicely," Aegir replied, his casual demeanor never wavering. "Let's begin."
Thor gripped Mjolnir firmly and charged forward with the confidence of a warrior who'd fought for over a thousand years. He'd seen every type of opponent, from the most cowardly to the most skilled. This was just another challenge to overcome, another warrior to remind of Asgard's supremacy.
With practiced ease, Thor built momentum, took a powerful leap, and brought his hammer down in a devastating overhead strike aimed directly at Aegir's position. The attack carried enough force to shatter stone and crack steel—more than enough to end most fights before they truly began.
But Aegir didn't dodge. Instead, he raised his left arm, and the runic tattoos along his forearm blazed with blue light. A shimmering forcefield erupted into existence just as Mjolnir descended.
CRACK!
The impact sent shockwaves rippling across the arena, kicking up clouds of dust and sand. The forcefield held for a split second before shattering like glass, but it had done its job—dispersing enough of the hammer's momentum that Aegir could sidestep the follow-through.
"Tch," Thor grunted, pulling back and reassessing. "Magical defenses. How very Vanir of you."
"We're known for our magic," Aegir replied, already preparing his counter. The tattoos on his right arm flared to life, these ones depicting flowing water patterns. "Would be a shame not to use it."
He thrust his hand forward, and a concentrated jet of water erupted from his palm with the force of a battering ram, aimed directly at Thor's chest. The Thunder God raised Mjolnir to deflect, but the water wrapped around the hammer like a living thing, trying to wrench it from his grip.
Thor yanked Mjolnir free with a grunt of effort, dispersing the water in an explosion of spray. "Clever tricks, but—"
He didn't finish the sentence. Aegir had used the water attack as a distraction, closing the distance between them. A tattoo depicting flames ignited on Aegir's shoulder, and he drove a fire-wreathed fist toward Thor's midsection.
Thor blocked with his free arm, but the impact still pushed him back several feet, his boots digging furrows in the sand. The crowd roared in appreciation—their new king was holding his own against the prince of Asgard.
"You're faster than I expected," Thor admitted, a note of genuine surprise in his voice. "And those tattoos of yours are quite versatile."
"Years of preparation," Aegir said, breathing slightly harder now. The tattoos weren't infinite—each use drew on his magical reserves, though he barely felt the drain compared to what he'd experienced before the system's reward. "When you're not naturally the strongest, you learn to be smart instead."
"Good," Thor grinned with battle-hungry enthusiasm. "Not that it will help you much against true power!"
He raised Mjolnir skyward, and the air crackled with electricity. Dark clouds gathered overhead with supernatural speed, responding to Thor's call. Lightning began to dance between the clouds, illuminating the arena with flickering blue-white light.
Aegir's eyes narrowed. His mental shields—the most heavily reinforced of all his tattoos—wouldn't help against raw electrical force. He'd have to rely on his other defenses.
The tattoos along his chest and back activated simultaneously, layering multiple shields into a humanoid covering all over his body. Then came earth—a thick barrier of compressed sand and stone that erupted from the arena floor around him. Water followed, forming a swirling vortex around the earthen barrier. Finally, air created a buffer zone that would hopefully disperse some of the electrical charge.
"Fascinating use of runes," Loki noted from the sidelines, genuinely intrigued now. "He's layered his defenses specifically against electrical attacks. It seems he prepared for this quite thoroughly."
Thor brought Mjolnir down, and a massive bolt of lightning descended from the heavens.
BOOM!
The lightning struck Aegir's defenses with devastating force. The air shield dispersed immediately, the water vaporized in an instant, and the earth barrier cracked and shattered like pottery. But the layered approach had worked—by the time the lightning reached Aegir himself, its power was significantly diminished.
He still felt the shock run through his body, muscles spasming from the residual electricity, but he remained standing. Smoke rose from his shoulders where the edges of his clothing had been singed, and the sand around his feet had been fused into glass by the heat.
Well, his durability had certainly upgraded. Before his inheritance, that would have knocked him out of the fight entirely. Now it was merely... unpleasant.
Thor's expression shifted to impressed. "You took a direct lightning strike and remained conscious. I'll admit, Sea Lord, you're more durable than you look."
"I guess I'm quite durable," Aegir replied with a tight smile, shaking off the lingering numbness.
What followed was a brutal exchange of blows that had the crowd on their feet. The two warriors clashed in quick succession, trading attacks with increasing intensity. Thor's strength and experience were undeniable—each hammer blow carried devastating force, and his combat instincts were honed by years of warfare.
But Aegir proved himself Thor's equal in resourcefulness and adaptability. He used his tattoos to create openings and counter-attacks, weaving elemental magic seamlessly into his hand-to-hand combat. A forcefield would deflect a hammer strike at a critical angle. Earth spikes would erupt to disrupt Thor's footing. Bursts of flame and jets of water forced constant adjustments in the Thunder God's approach.
Thor responded with his own arsenal, alternating between Mjolnir's crushing blows and crackling arcs of lightning that forced Aegir to maintain his defenses constantly. The Thunder God's experience showed in every move—he adapted to Aegir's tactics with frightening speed, finding patterns, exploiting the brief moments when one defensive tattoo faded before another could activate.
The arena floor became a battleground of scorched earth, frozen patches, and craters from missed strikes. Neither warrior gave quarter, neither would back down. It was a dance of divine combat, each pushing the other to their limits.
Then Thor saw his opening.
Aegir had just unleashed a combination of wind and water, forcing Thor back several steps. But the effort had caused a fractional delay in reactivating his defensive shields. Thor's battle-honed instincts recognized the gap instantly.
With a roar of triumph, he charged Mjolnir with lightning and hurled it with all his considerable strength. The hammer struck Aegir squarely in the chest before his defenses could fully manifest.
BOOM!
The impact launched Aegir backward like a ragdoll, his body tumbling through the air before crashing into the far arena wall with tremendous force. The ancient stone cracked from the impact, dust and debris falling around him as he slumped to the ground.
Mjolnir returned to Thor's hand with a satisfying thwack, and the Thunder God approached his fallen opponent with a mixture of respect and triumph, his armor barely dented despite the intense battle.
"A good fight," Thor said genuinely, standing over Aegir. "You've proven yourself worthy of respect, Sea Lord. Few can claim to have matched me for so long."
Aegir lay there for a moment, as he stared up at the sky. The crowd had gone silent, waiting to see if their new king would rise or if the match was over.
Then, slowly, Aegir began to laugh.
"Worthy of respect?" he said between breaths. "Thor, we're just getting started."
Thor's confident expression faltered slightly. "You can barely stand. There's no shame in conceding—you've already proven more capable than most warriors I've faced."
"Concede?" Aegir said, dusting off his singed clothes, "Well the thing is. What you've been fighting? That was just me with the tools I've spent years developing. Good old-fashioned Vanir magic and combat training."
He rolled his shoulders experimentally, testing his body's responses. Despite the obvious punishment he'd taken, he didn't feel any problem.
"But here's the thing, Thor—I'm not just a mage who learned to fight. Not anymore." Aegir's smile turned sharp, almost predatory. "Want to know what it's like to face an actual Sea Lord? Not some upstart playing with tattoos and tricks, but someone who's inherited the true power of Vanaheim's throne?"
The air around Aegir began to shimmer, and Thor felt something fundamental shift in the atmosphere. The ambient moisture seemed to respond to the Vanir king's presence, droplets condensing from thin air. The wind picked up despite no natural cause, swirling around Aegir in response to his will.
"What are you—" Thor started to ask, his grip on Mjolnir tightening instinctively.
"Let's take it up a notch," Aegir interrupted, his voice carrying a resonance it hadn't possessed before—deeper, more primal, echoing with authority.
Deep beneath the arena, something stirred. Power that had slept dormant since Njord's time, absent from the world for thousands of years, now awakened in its new inheritor. The very stones of Vanaheim seemed to recognize their true king, responding to his call.
The tattoos on Aegir's body flared one final time, but this wasn't their magic—they were merely reacting to something far greater flowing through him.
Thor's warrior instincts screamed danger. His entire body tensed, recognizing that the nature of this fight had just changed.
The crowd held its collective breath as power radiated from their new king—not the learned magic of his tattoos, but something primal and ancient, something that made the very air taste of salt and storm. The scent of the deep ocean filled the arena, impossible yet undeniable.
Aegir stood ready, no longer relying solely on years of preparation and tactical thinking. The power of the Sea Lord, dormant for millennia, now flowed through him like a raging river finally breaking through a dam. Now, he would show Thor what it truly meant to challenge the Sea Lord of Vanaheim.
"Ready for round two?" Aegir asked, and this time, there was nothing sarcastic or casual in his tone. This was a king addressing an equal—or perhaps, addressing someone who was about to learn they weren't equal after all.