The Royal Palace - Asgard
Frigga closed her eyes. Her palm hovered over the crystal vial.
A soft, golden light pulsed between her fingers.
For a full minute, the Queen of Asgard analyzed the arcane structure of the liquid.
Slowly, the light faded. Frigga opened her eyes, genuine astonishment etched into her regal features.
"It is exactly as you claim," Frigga murmured, her voice carrying across the silent hall.
"The regenerative efficacy is terrifyingly potent. It can knit a severed soul back into the mortal coil."
She looked at Ernst, her initial skepticism entirely replaced by profound respect.
"As a wager, it is arguably more valuable than the knowledge of our Library," Frigga admitted.
"Are you truly willing to stake this?"
"Absolutely," Ernst replied smoothly.
"Knowledge is the ultimate capital. I do not consider myself at a disadvantage. I would pay ten times this price for truth."
Frigga stared deeply into Ernst's eyes. She searched for deceit, for a hidden trap. She found only the cold, burning hunger of a true academic.
She sighed softly.
"You are a genuine seeker of knowledge. I apologize for doubting you."
Frigga turned to her husband.
"The wager is officially established."
The Grand Arena - Asgard
Asgardians were creatures of war and revelry. When they were not feasting, they were fighting.
Today, the massive amphitheater surrounding the Thunder Tower was packed to absolute capacity.
The God-King and his Queen sat high in the royal box.
The air buzzed with the deafening roar of tens of thousands of spectators.
Their beloved Prince was stepping into the ring against a mortal from Midgard.
The heavy iron gates ground open.
Thor strode onto the sand. He wore his gleaming armor, his red cape billowing behind him.
The arena erupted. The cheering was a physical, concussive wave of sound.
Thor grinned, raising Mjolnir high and waving to his adoring people.
Moments later, the opposite gates opened.
Ernst stepped onto the sand.
Next to the burly Thunder God, Ernst looked relatively thin. His sharp, delicate features made him look more like a scholar than a gladiator.
Silence fell over the arena.
A few scattered boos echoed from the upper tiers.
The Asgardians inherently looked down on the frail appearance of this supposed 'warrior'.
Ernst ignored the crowd entirely. He was busy adjusting the straps on his gauntlets.
High above in the royal box, Odin's single eye narrowed.
He recognized the extraordinary energy humming beneath Ernst's quiet exterior.
Beside him, Frigga's face turned extremely grim.
She possessed the Sight. As she analyzed Ernst's equipment, her confidence in Thor's victory rapidly evaporated.
Ernst had not brought his standard gear.
He was fighting for the Library of Asgard. He had equipped his masterpiece loadout.
His upper body was protected by a tight-fitting scale armor forged from an unidentified, matte-black alloy.
Frigga could see the microscopic, interlocking magical runes etched into every single scale.
It was a mutant suit, capable of shape-shifting like a Sentinel, but heavily modified with arcane wards.
If struck, the armor would automatically generate a localized, kinetic-absorbing energy shield.
It was designed to withstand a direct hit from Mjolnir.
If the attack was overwhelming, a secondary rune would trigger a short-range, automatic substitution teleport to evade the blow entirely.
On his feet, Ernst wore heavy black boots accented with subtle, wing-like silver motifs on the heels.
Frigga sensed raw, compressed elemental magic radiating from the soles.
They were the Boots of the Wind, granting Ernst blinding, hypersonic mobility.
But it was the weapon in his hand that truly terrified the Queen.
Ernst was not wielding his Vibranium twin blades. He held a single, short sword, measuring just under a meter in length.
It looked luxurious. The hilt was embedded with seven flawless blue space-crystals, and the blade was dense with glowing, golden runes.
The core of the blade was forged from pure Adamantine.
Ernst had spent years refining thousands of tons of raw ore to extract a few precious grams of the mythical, hyper-conductive metal.
The Adamantine allowed the sword to function flawlessly as a high-tier magic wand.
However, pure Adamantine lacked the sheer structural hardness of industrial alloys.
It would shatter against Mjolnir.
To solve this, Ernst had molecularly bonded a thick, impenetrable layer of Vibranium over the Adamantine core.
The Vibranium provided absolute, unbreakable defense, while the Adamantine core channeled Ernst's magic perfectly.
Furthermore, the seven blue crystals embedded in the hilt were not decorative.
They were pure, compressed spatial energy.
By tying the sword's frequency to his own neural net, Ernst could instantly teleport the blade to any coordinate he could see, simply by thinking it.
It was a lethal upgrade to his standard phantom apparition, requiring zero casting time.
It was god-tier equipment.
Odin sat heavily on his throne. He knew Thor's chances were practically zero.
The only variable was Thor's own volatile potential.
If the Prince could be pushed to his absolute limit without losing his temper, he might pull off a miracle.
But the odds were astronomically small.
Down on the sand, Thor remained blissfully unaware of the mathematical certainty of his defeat.
The crowd roared his name.
Thor spun Mjolnir, the hammer, building a terrifying, localized storm front. With a deafening war cry, he launched himself into the air.
He crossed the ten meters in a microsecond, bringing the hammer down in a devastating overhead strike aimed directly at Ernst's skull.
Ernst met the charge with a sharp shout.
He raised the short sword, channeling a dense wave of kinetic energy into the Vibranium shell.
Blade met hammer.
CRACK.
The collision sounded like a breaking mountain.
A shockwave exploded outward, sending a ring of displaced sand and lightning rippling across the arena floor.
Ernst's boots dug deep trenches into the earth, but he held his ground.
The blue energy shield flared brilliantly across his scale armor, completely neutralizing the kinetic bleed.
Lightning danced across Ernst's body, but his mutant cells greedily absorbed the electrical discharge, feeding the power back into his own reserves.
With a powerful shove, Ernst pushed Thor back.
Thor flipped backward, landing smoothly on his feet. The initial clash had sobered him. He realized his opponent was impossibly durable.
Thor adapted instantly.
He leveled Mjolnir, pointing the flat head directly at Ernst.
He channeled the raw power of the storm, condensing the lightning into a dozen sharp, cone-shaped projectiles of solid electricity.
He fired the barrage directly at Ernst's chest.
Instead of dodging, Ernst hurled his short sword through the air like a silver javelin, straight through the center of the lightning barrage.
Simultaneously, the blue energy shield flared to maximum intensity across his armor, bracing for impact.
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