Ares was like a shark scenting blood, prowling the side corridors and training grounds assigned to the Ásgarðr mission in Vanaheimr.
His target was clear, and his fighting spirit mixed with a twisted excitement that made his bronze skin glow red.
Soon, he found his 'prey'.
Several Valkyries were conducting their daily combat exercises on an open arena.
Their postures were vigorous, their silver armor shimmering with cold light under the alien sun, and the spears and swords in their hands cut through the air with a clear whoosh.
They looked focused and solemn, with the perseverance and pride inherent to Ásgarðrian warriors.
Ares approached with confidence, and his heavy steps immediately interrupted their training.
The Valkyries stopped and warily looked at the newcomer.
The Valkyrie at the lead, who seemed to be known as Brynhildr, stepped forward.
She saluted without humility: "Your Highness Ares, do you have any advice?"
Her voice was cold, with obvious aloofness.
Ares didn't answer directly; his aggressive gaze slid over the several Valkyries, as if appraising them, from their heroic faces to the undulating postures hidden beneath their armor, and finally to the hands gripping their weapons.
"Advice?" Ares grinned, revealing a wild and undisguised smile of his intentions.
"Of course, I do. I see your movements aren't just graceful; they lack strength! Are Ásgarðr's martial arts such a sissy dance?"
The insult in his words was obvious.
A younger Valkyrie immediately showed anger and wanted to retort, but Brynhildr stopped her with a glance.
"Our martial arts come from Odin's legacy, designed to effectively destroy enemies and guide the fallen, not for pure violence," Brynhildr replied calmly, trying to defuse the conflict.
"Effective? Destroy the enemy?"
Ares sneered contemptuously and took a step forward, his strong pressure making the air freeze.
"Let me show you what's truly effective! What war should really look like!"
Suddenly, he reached out, with lightning speed, and grabbed Brynhildr's wrist—the one holding the spear!
The move was frivolous and offensive, not at all a normal combat posture.
"Let go!" Brynhildr cried out sharply, her wrist struggling, trying to break free, but Ares's strength was far greater, and his hand, like iron pincers, didn't budge.
"Tsk, tsk, the skin is quite smooth; I wonder how many scratches it can withstand on the battlefield?"
Ares leaned in, his voice low and malicious, his hot breath almost spilling into Brynhildr's ear.
Seeing this, the other Valkyries immediately surrounded them, swords drawn, glaring angrily, and the atmosphere instantly became tense.
"Ares! Release her immediately!" A roar, suppressed by rage, exploded like thunder.
Týr appeared at the entrance to the training ground, as if teleporting.
What he saw was the scene of Ares harassing Brynhildr!
Týr's one eye instantly turned red; all his patience and restraint exploded like ignited gunpowder at this moment, seeing his subordinates humiliated!
He could endure Ares's provocations against himself, but he could not tolerate this mad dog touching his sisters!
Ares saw that Týr had finally appeared, and of course, he was furious; his heart was delighted, his goal halfway achieved!
Instead of releasing Brynhildr, he deliberately used his other hand to flick the wing ornament on her helmet.
"Hey, the God of Justice finally ready to come out of your turtle shell? Why, feeling sorry for your little females?"
"I'll—make—you—pay!" Týr's voice was cold as ice for thousands of years.
His entire body began to radiate powerful fluctuations of divine power, and the air became sticky.
His hand, for the first time without the slightest hesitation, firmly gripped the hilt of Dáinsleif!
"Haha! Yes! That's it! Come on! Týr! Let's see if Ásgarðr's justice has such force!"
Ares laughed loudly, finally releasing Brynhildr, pushing her aside, and adopting a fighting stance with bare hands, but radiating an even more dangerous aura than when holding divine weapons!
The fight was about to begin!
And at this moment of extreme tension, no one noticed that in the shadow of a stone pillar at the edge of the training ground, an invisible ripple appeared in space.
Hermes hid his figure, and the rhomboid crystal in his hand was pointed at the two people on the field, clearly recording everything:
Ares's offensive and frivolous behavior;
His undisguised, possessive, and aggressive gaze as he looked at the Valkyries;
His almost street-thug tactics to force a fight;
Týr's fury, like a volcanic eruption, finally exploding!
"Perfect... this is perfect..." Hermes exclaimed in his heart.
"This guy Ares, he really has natural acting talent—no, this is just a revelation of his nature! Look at that look, that action, Prometheus, Prometheus, just wait until you see this 'treasure' and see what you want to exchange for it! If Atlas sees that his target is this kind of virtue... Hey!"
He even deliberately changed the angle and took a few close-ups of Ares, capturing the delight and greedy expression on his face towards the Valkyries' beauty.
On the field, Týr finally drew Dáinsleif!
The last remnants of reason told him he couldn't draw this bloodthirsty magical sword, but at this moment, the sword was unsheathed!
"Ares! Pay for your words and actions today!"
Týr roared and transformed into a silver lightning bolt, shrouded in the cold breath of death, and charged at the crimson war god!
"Glad you came!" Ares roared with delight, not dodging or evading.
A loud, explosive roar echoed through Vanaheimr!
Hermes, in the shadows, watched with satisfaction as the clear image of Ares's 'derailment' was recorded in the crystal, as if he could see Prometheus's grateful expression.
His plan was going smoothly.
In this conflict, secretly orchestrated by him, regardless of who won or lost, he, Hermes, would be the main beneficiary.