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*****
Standing to the side, Sif watched the unfolding scene with a palpable sense of awkwardness. She rushed to offer an explanation: "Ever since the Nine Realms fell into chaos, we've rarely held banquets. I think they might just be a little… overexcited."
"Heh."
Fini maintained a polite, if slightly strained, smile.
The banquet had begun in a most inexplicable fashion. Fini got the distinct impression that this wasn't actually a welcome party for him at all; it was simply the Asgardians looking for any excuse to throw a massive revelry.
Sif proceeded to introduce him to Thor's closest inner circle. After only a few brief exchanges, the introductions abruptly transitioned into a drinking session. It was one mug after another, with a never-ending line of people coming forward to offer him a toast.
Fini wasn't a big drinker by nature, but in a setting like this, refusing to drink was equivalent to admitting defeat. While he wasn't usually one to care about "saving face," he was currently representing Kamar-Taj. If he looked pathetic, Kamar-Taj looked pathetic. Consequently, Fini steeled himself, determined to hold his own.
However, as he looked at his opponent's beer belly—which looked larger than that of a woman ten months into a pregnancy—he couldn't help but swallow nervously. He began to brainstorm ways to cheat.
Because Asgard possessed its own inherent "Rules of Power," his Ars Magna still couldn't reach its full potential here. Fortunately, most of that divine pressure was centered on Odin himself, making the suppression much weaker than what he experienced in the Sanctums. His effectiveness here was significantly higher than it had been on Earth.
Fini held his breath, activated his Breathing Technique, and focused his mind on the Ars Magna. He willed every drop of ale to turn into pure water the exact moment it crossed his lips.
And so, through blatant cheating, Fini maintained a stoic, unchanging expression as he drank person after person under the table.
It wasn't that no one suspected him of foul play, but rather that no one could figure out how he was doing it. After all, the liquid only transformed once it was inside his mouth. It was one thing to check the ale in the mug, but who would be bold enough to pry open Fini's mouth to investigate?
An hour later.
"Drink... I can... I can still go!"
Fini looked down at a burly man collapsed under the table, unable to even lift his mug yet still mumbling about drinking more. Fini turned his head to scan the room; the surrounding Asgardians instinctively took a step back in shock.
Seeing this, Fini couldn't help but grin. He patted his slightly bloated stomach and asked provocatively, "Is that it? Nobody else?"
The remaining Asgardians traded looks of disbelief. Not a single one dared to step forward. This was the third time Fini had issued a challenge, and the previous two waves of challengers were still sprawled on the floor, unable to get back up.
Clap!
Clap, clap!
Clap, clap, clap!
The crowd began to applaud spontaneously, their eyes filled with newfound respect. Asgardians were a results-oriented people. Regardless of whatever trickery Fini might have used, the fact that he had downed that many opponents earned their esteem.
By now, Sif and her companions—the ones who had started the drinking bout with Fini—had recovered slightly. They approached him, unable to hide their admiration.
"Hey, friend! You're the first person in the history of Asgard to drink the Warriors Three under the table simultaneously!"
The speaker was Volstagg. He sported a massive, flowing beard and stood tall like a small giant; even among Asgardians, he was exceptionally large. He was also the stoutest, with the most formidable belly, and had been the strongest drinker Fini had faced all night.
"Actually, I should apologize. I used a bit of a trick. In a true contest of drinking, I likely wouldn't be your match," Fini admitted with a hint of bashfulness. It was only fair to explain; staying perfectly sober after that much alcohol was simply unnatural.
"Hahaha!"
The group let out a collective roar of laughter. Fini's honesty seemed to make them like him even more. Beside him, Hogun—sporting a hairstyle that looked vaguely like a pineapple—spoke up: "Regardless of the method, it is your own skill."
"Fair enough!"
Fini shrugged. If they didn't mind, he wasn't going to overthink it. He found himself genuinely liking their straightforward personalities.
"I must say, I am still quite curious about what method you actually used?"
Fandall, the dashing blond with a thin mustache and a bit of a rogue's charm, asked curiously. He leaned in to peer into Fini's mug, confirming that it was indeed filled with ale.
"A mysterious form of magic," Fini replied with a small smile, offering no further detail as he drained the rest of his mug. To be fair, while Asgardian ale wasn't particularly high in alcohol content, it tasted excellent.
"Well, it seems you truly are a formidable mage!" Fandall shrugged, dropping the subject.
Volstagg, however, waved his thick, short arms and grumbled in a booming voice, "As impressive as our drinking is, the Warriors Three are even better at martial arts! We must find a time to spar!"
"I'd love to. My combat magic is far more impressive than my drinking tricks. Let's find an opportunity to test it out!"
Fini agreed happily. He wasn't called a combat mage of Kamar-Taj for nothing. He was also secretly looking forward to seeing how much experience he could grind out of an "Asgardian Instance."
Drinking truly was the fastest way to build rapport between men. After the banquet, Fini felt his relationship with the group had improved significantly. This prompted him to ask a question he'd been curious about: "By the way, why aren't you all with Thor?"
Upon hearing the question, the three men instinctively glanced at Sif, which Fini found a bit odd.
Sif clearly noticed their gaze. A flicker of discomfort crossed her face before she answered candidly, "He's likely avoiding me."
Fini understood instantly. It was the classic tale of the childhood friend being defeated by the "destined girlfriend" from the heavens.
"Ahem."
Fini gave an awkward cough and quickly changed the subject. "Tell me about King Odin. I've always been fascinated by his legendary deeds."
Relieved to move on, the group began competing to see who could tell Fini the most grand tales of Odin's exploits. However, listening to their descriptions, Fini suspected the history had been heavily sanitized; there wasn't a single mention of Hela.
As the banquet continued, the others returned to their cups. Fandall and the others, who had been relatively sober, ended up getting utterly wasted in the second round. They eventually collapsed in random corners, waiting to be discovered later.
Only Sif remained somewhat composed, sipping her drink slowly with a preoccupied expression. In the end, she was the only one who didn't get drunk.
Though the banquet had been a bit chaotic, Fini was satisfied. At the very least, he had earned the respect of the Asgardians. As things wound down, Fini prepared to head back to rest. He hadn't used Ars Magna during the second round of drinks, so he was feeling a bit of a buzz himself.
Just as he was about to leave, Sif called out to him. Her expression was hesitant. "Do you know... Thor's girlfriend?"
Fini paused and looked at her complicated expression. He shook his head. "I know who she is, but I've never actually met her."
"I see." Sif had clearly hoped to learn something about Jane from him. Her disappointment was visible.
"Honestly, you shouldn't worry too much about her," Fini said, trying to offer some comfort. "We normal humans on Earth only live for about a century. There is a very high probability they won't stay together. Besides... you can literally just outlive her."
"..."
Sif stared at Fini, speechless. She knew he meant well, but the way he put it felt incredibly awkward.
(End of Chapter)