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*****
Upon hearing Feny's words, Fandral could no longer suppress his curiosity regarding the young man's magic. "Did you truly eliminate an entire Chitauri fleet all by yourself?" he pressed.
Feny kept his gaze fixed on the ongoing battles in the arena, replying casually, "To be precise, it was a joint effort between me and the Blue-Eyes White Dragon."
"I never imagined magic could harbor such devastating power," Hogun added, his voice tinged with genuine surprise.
Feny couldn't help but turn to look at him, a look of mild exasperation on his face. "I'm starting to feel like you've all spent a bit too much time around Loki. It's skewed your perception of what magic can do." He paused, a sudden thought occurring to him. "By the way, could you take me to see him?"
It had been several days since Feny arrived in Asgard, yet he had not caught a single glimpse of the God of Mischief. Sif had mentioned that Loki was being held in the most heavily fortified level of the dungeons, but that was all he knew.
"That would require the All-Father's personal authorization," Fandral said, shaking his head. Although they were the renowned Warriors Three, their authority did not extend to granting guests access to high-security prisoners.
"Fair enough." Feny decided he would find an opportunity to speak with Thor about it later. He had a few questions for Loki, and he hoped that enough time had passed for Thor to have moved past the memory of their previous physical altercation.
The four of them watched the arena matches until midday before heading off to lunch. Asgardians were legendary for their love of spirits—they viewed a meal without drink as no meal at all—and they ensured Feny's cup stayed full throughout the afternoon.
During the meal, Feny learned that the trio expected to be deployed on a campaign in the near future.
"Where are you heading?" Feny asked, curious about the state of the Nine Realms.
"If all goes as expected, Vanaheim," Hogun replied, a shadow of concern crossing his face. Vanaheim was his homeland, and news brought back by Thor suggested that a portion of the population had risen in open rebellion.
The destruction of the Bifrost had not only invited external enemies to test Asgard's borders but had also ignited internal strife. While Asgard claimed dominion over the Nine Realms, that authority was not universally accepted. Unlike Midgard, which Asgard rarely interfered with, other realms required a firmer hand.
Nornheim, for instance, sat within the Nine Realms but resisted Asgardian rule. During the period when the Bifrost was severed, they had seized the opportunity to revolt, rallying other territories to their cause. Vanaheim was among those caught in the chaos. As for why no one had incited a rebellion on Earth, Feny surmised that the agitators likely viewed Midgard's military strength as too insignificant to bother with.
After lunch, Feny's plans to study the language of the Flora colossus in the library were derailed once again. The Warriors Three dragged him to the palace training grounds, insistent on a sparring match.
"Are you three absolutely certain you want to do this here?" Feny asked, looking at the gathering crowd of curious Asgardian soldiers. He flashed a provocative grin. "Don't worry, I won't make you look too bad in front of your men."
Volstagg, the most hot-tempered of the three, tightened his grip on his massive greataxe. "You might have out-drunk us, but when it comes to battle, we won't be losing again!"
"Let's put that to the test then."
Feny didn't waste time. He reached out into the air, summoning the longsword of Incursio. Under the startled gazes of the soldiers and the Warriors Three, he gripped the hilt and shouted:
"Incursio!"
The sword instantly transformed into shimmering silver armor that encased his entire body. A white cape billowed behind him, and the crimson glow of the visor's eyes projected an aura of immense pressure.
The Warriors Three stared in shock at Feny's sudden transformation. Fandral asked, his voice laced with confusion, "Are you truly a mage?"
"Of course. Certified and authentic," Feny nodded, then gestured toward them. "Who's first? Or do you want to come at me all at once?"
"I'll go!" Volstagg stepped forward, axe in hand. Seeing Feny's hands were currently empty, he asked, "Where is your weapon?"
"It's fine, I'm good like this." Feny shook his head. While he did possess the Scream spear, he rarely summoned it because he found it cumbersome to use.
Taking this as a slight against his prowess, Volstagg's beard practically bristled with rage. He swung his axe through the air twice, huffing, "Then don't blame me for taking advantage of an unarmed man!"
Behind the mask, Feny smiled. He beckoned with a finger, further taunting him. "Come and get it."
"Waaaaagh!" Volstagg roared, charging forward with his axe raised high.
While the trio were known as the Warriors Three, their fame was largely measured against the standard Asgardian soldier. Compared to a "natural" powerhouse like Thor, who possessed innate divine strength, their power came from a combination of talent and relentless training. Volstagg was the powerhouse of the group, and given his massive frame, Feny knew he wasn't exactly built for speed.
As Volstagg closed the distance, Feny silently activated his Breathing Technique. He believed in the principle of "the lion uses its full strength even when hunting a rabbit"—besides, the more he used his skills, the more experience he gained.
The axe whistled through the air, creating a mini-vortex with every swing. It was a weapon finely crafted by the Dwarves; though it lacked the mythic power of Mjolnir, it was still an exceptionally formidable tool.
Feny dodged with calm precision. He was well-versed in dealing with strength-based opponents, and the gap in raw combat ability between him and Volstagg was significant. Once he had mapped out Volstagg's rhythm, Feny began his counterattack. To maintain his "mage" persona, he refrained from using his fists.
Instead, he began chanting while weaving through the attacks.
"Darkness beyond blackest pitch, blazing flame of the night sky... whatever, just blow up! Explosion!"
Feny had no intention of killing Volstagg, so after a somewhat half-hearted chant, he unleashed his signature magic.
Even with a shortened incantation, the spell was potent. A pillar of fire erupted from a crimson magic circle, streaking toward Volstagg. Fortunately, the warrior managed to brace himself and block with the flat of his axe just before impact, preventing any lethal damage.
"Whoa!"
The sheer spectacle of the magic sent a wave of murmurs through the surrounding soldiers. Their eyes were wide with shock.
Feny pressed the advantage, firing controlled bursts of Explosion magic to keep Volstagg on the defensive. To Volstagg's credit, he lived up to his reputation; utilizing his vast combat experience, he managed to parry the subsequent blasts with his axe. Of course, this was only possible because Feny was pulling his punches. Had he unleashed the same output he used against the Chitauri, no amount of axe-swinging would have saved the warrior.
The duel continued for a while until Volstagg was visibly winded. Seeing the opening, Feny launched a final, slightly empowered blast that knocked Volstagg off his feet and sent him sliding across the dirt.
Despite his temper, Volstagg was not a sore loser. He accepted the defeat gracefully. Scrambling back to his feet, he looked at Feny with a mix of exhaustion and respect.
"Is that armor part of your magic too?" he asked.
"In a way, yes," Feny replied with a nod.
Mentally, he checked the experience gained from the victory. With his power growing so rapidly, using Mordo as a benchmark for experience was becoming less accurate. He decided that moving forward, he would use "eight hours of dedicated skill practice" as his standard unit of measurement for experience gain.
(End of Chapter)