The transformation was subtle at first—just a shift in the air, a change in pressure that made ears pop and skin prickle. But those with any sensitivity to magic could feel it: something fundamental had changed about Aegir.
Thor studied his opponent warily, Mjolnir held ready. He'd seen warriors get second winds before, had witnessed berserkers push past their limits through sheer rage. But this felt different. The bloodied, exhausted king from moments ago now stood with an ease that suggested his injuries were mere inconveniences.
"You're stalling," Thor said, though uncertainty crept into his voice. "Trying to recover your strength with bold words."
"Stalling?" Aegir's smile was sharp. "Thor, I'm being considerate. Giving you a moment to catch your breath before we continue." He rolled his neck, producing a series of satisfying cracks. "Trust me, you'll want to be at your best for this."
Aegir continued, his tone conversational despite the divine power beginning to radiate from him. "See, those tattoos? They're tools I developed because I needed an edge, a way to fight when I had nothing else. Took me years to perfect them."
Aegir had spent a lot of time carving the runic tattoos into his skin. He took inspiration from Kyllian Boddicker's animal magic but changed it to suit him, he didn't have much problem since powerful mages were not that hard to find in Vanaheim. So instead of animal projections, his runes let him use minor elemental control, shields, and forcefields. Most of them were made to protect his mind, since he feared mind control more than anything. His magic was a mix of the First Form of Magic, Arcanum Ego and the Second Form of Magic, Arcanum Eco, balancing himself and the world around him.
He held up one arm, showing the intricate runic patterns etched into his skin—most of them silent. "But tools are just tools. They break, they run out of juice, they have limits." His smile widened. "What I'm about to show you? No limits."
"Enough talk!" Thor roared, his patience exhausted. "If you have more power, then show me instead of boasting like some—"
Aegir simply waved his hand.
A massive tornado erupted from the ground beneath Thor's feet with zero warning, zero buildup. One moment the Thunder God was standing on solid earth, the next he was caught in a vortex of wind that hurled him skyward at tremendous speed before gravity reclaimed him and sent him crashing back to earth with a bone-rattling thud.
"Quite the bad matchup," Loki murmured to himself from the sidelines, though there was an unmistakable glint of schadenfreude dancing in his emerald eyes. Thor's predicament was almost... entertaining.
"Sorry about that," Aegir called out with false concern, though his grin suggested anything but remorse. "I'm still getting used to these new abilities. Accidentally made that tornado a bit larger than intended. You alright up there?"
The claim about being unfamiliar with his abilities held some truth—Aegir was still adjusting to the full scope of his inherited powers. But the apology? That was complete fiction, delivered with the kind of smirk that made it clear he'd enjoyed every second of Thor's impromptu flight.
Thor rolled to his feet with practiced grace, brushing dust from his armor. Aside from some dirt and a slightly bruised ego, he remained uninjured. "Your new tricks won't help you for long," he declared, hefting Mjolnir with renewed determination.
"We'll see about that," Aegir replied, settling into a more relaxed stance.
Thor raised Mjolnir high above his head, calling upon the storm. Dark clouds gathered with supernatural speed, and the air crackled with electrical energy. "Let me show you proper power!"
Lightning split the sky—tens of millions of volts of pure electrical fury that struck Aegir's position in the blink of an eye. The bolt easily much more larger than the first one he used.
Instead, the lightning passed straight through Aegir as if he were made of smoke, continuing its path to blast a massive crater in the arena floor behind him. Chunks of stone flew in all directions as spectators gasped in astonishment.
"What?!" Thor's eyes widened in genuine confusion. "What trickery is this?"
He stared at the spot where Aegir stood completely unharmed, not even a hair out of place. The lightning had definitely struck true—Thor's aim was flawless. So why had it passed through him like he wasn't even there?
"What have you done?" Thor demanded, his voice carrying a note of frustration.
"Guess," Aegir replied with that same infuriating smirk, clearly enjoying Thor's bewilderment.
What Thor didn't understand was that Aegir had simply shifted himself temporally to a point where the lightning had already passed through that location. The Aegir that the lightning had struck was merely the universe's way of compensating for his absence—a temporal echo that existed only long enough to maintain causality.
"Illusion magic?" Thor turned sharply toward Loki, suspicion creeping into his voice.
Illusion magic was Loki's signature ability, after all. His brother had played similar tricks on him countless times, making attacks pass through false images while the real target escaped unharmed.
"I can assure you," Loki said, raising his hands in mock innocence, "this is definitely not illusion magic. I'd recognize my own work."
Thor's mind reeled. If not illusions, then what? How was such a thing possible?
Unwilling to accept defeat, Thor decided to try again. This time, he charged Mjolnir for over ten seconds, building up far more electrical energy than his previous strike. The resulting lightning bolt was thick as a tree trunk and blazed with enough power to level a building.
Once again, it passed straight through Aegir without effect, scorching the ground far beyond the arena's boundaries.
"Need me to prove this isn't an illusion?" Aegir asked casually, then stomped his foot on the ground. A spider web of cracks immediately spread outward from the impact point, demonstrating his very real physical presence.
Thor fell silent, his mind struggling to process what he was witnessing. What kind of ability could be so overwhelmingly powerful? Here was Aegir, standing there without even breathing hard, making Thor's most devastating attacks look like parlor tricks.
If thunder was useless against him, then Thor would have to rely on close combat. At least in melee range, there would be no escaping the bite of Mjolnir.
Thor tightened his grip on his hammer and began formulating new tactics. After a brief moment of consideration, he started another charge—but this time, he kept his feet firmly on the ground, sprinting directly toward his opponent.
His eyes remained locked on Aegir, watching for any sign of another tornado or wind-based attack. As he ran, Thor couldn't resist a bit of taunting.
"If you're truly a man," he shouted, "then fight me with honest strength! Stop hiding behind magic like some coward"
The insult hung in the air, and Loki—who had been contentedly watching the spectacle—suddenly found himself on the receiving end of an unintended slight.
Really? Loki thought irritably. I'm just enjoying the show, and somehow I get shot? Am I a man or a coward in your mind, brother? Perhaps you should focus on your own opponent instead of throwing around careless words.
"Since you insist," Aegir shrugged with apparent nonchalance, "I'll give you what you want."
It wouldn't be particularly difficult to handle Thor without relying on wind and storm manipulation or his runic tattoo. After all, temporal manipulation was a fundamental force of reality—not mere magic that could be countered or dispelled.
This time, Aegir allowed Thor to close the distance. The Thunder God's face lit up with savage satisfaction as he finally got within striking range and immediately began his assault with Mjolnir.
However, Thor's elation quickly soured into frustration. Each of his attacks seemed to miss by mere inches, as if Aegir could predict exactly where every strike would land. The Vanir King flowed around Thor's hammer like water, never quite where the weapon expected him to be.
To outside observers, the two combatants didn't appear to be fighting so much as performing some elaborate, violent dance. Thor would swing with devastating force, only to strike empty air as Aegir had already moved to a slightly different position.
An eerie atmosphere settled over the entire arena as it became crystal clear to everyone present that Aegir was now toying with Thor throughout the entire fight unlike before. The gap in their abilities wasn't just significant—it was absolute.
"Damn it!" Thor roared in fury, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. "Are you going to keep running forever?"
"Running?" Aegir's smile took on a particularly wicked quality. "Do I look like I need to run?"
This time, instead of moving out of the way, Aegir remained perfectly still. Thor's eyes gleamed with triumph as he saw his hammer finally descending toward its target without any evasion.
However, his victorious expression froze as Aegir caught Mjolnir effortlessly with one hand, stopping the weapon's momentum as easily as catching a thrown apple.
"You rely too heavily on the hammer," Aegir observed conversationally, as if they were discussing the weather rather than engaged in combat. "Perhaps I should call you the Hammer God instead of the Thunder God."
"Hammer... God?" Thor muttered, the words hitting him like a physical blow.
For just a moment, Thor's concentration wavered and Aegir, ever the opportunist, didn't waste the opening. He stepped forward and delivered a devastating kick to Thor's midsection.
BOOM!
An irresistible force launched Thor through the air like a ragdoll. As he flew backward, his grip on Mjolnir loosened, and the enchanted hammer remained in Aegir's grasp.
The moment Aegir fully grasped the weapon, he felt its violent resistance—Mjolnir's enchantments fighting against his unauthorized wielding. But Aegir immediately channeled Njord's power to suppress the hammer's defiance.
He possessed the same divine authority as Njord, whose power had been comparable to Odin's own. While Odin had placed formidable enchantments on Mjolnir, it was the Vanir who were truly renowned for their mastery of magic and mystical forces.
"Hmm," Aegir mused, hefting the hammer experimentally. "While channeling thunder through this thing would be too wasteful of my energy, wielding it normally isn't particularly challenging."
Despite the inefficiency, Aegir decided to indulge himself. He raised Mjolnir skyward and sent a crackling bolt of lightning arcing across the arena—not at Thor, but simply as a demonstration. The irony wasn't lost on him. Isn't this everyone's dream? To lift Thor's hammer? Should I shout 'I am worthy' just for the heck of it?
"You... you lifted Mjolnir!" Thor scrambled to his feet, his voice filled with shock and disbelief. Despite his rough landing, Asgardian durability had prevented any injury.
Loki's expression mirrored his brother's astonishment. It was one thing to lose a fight—that happened to everyone eventually. But to watch your signature weapon, your most trusted companion, casually wielded by your opponent? That was a humiliation on an entirely different level for Thor.