Marvel: AS A PRINCE IN ASGARD

Ragna forcibly exhausted the last reserves of his Solar Battle Form, his divine energy flickering like a dying star. Dodging at the last moment, he reappeared behind the goat-headed demon, a hellspawn of Mephisto's Netherworld.

Without hesitation, he seized the demon's arms with both hands and drove his knee viciously into the creature's lower back. The impact forced the demon forward, wrenching its arms backward at an unnatural angle as it crumpled to one knee.

The goat-headed demon's glowing red eyes widened with something rarely seen in the underworld—fear. It twisted its head sharply and bellowed at Ragna , "What are you doing?!"

Ragna 's smirk was unwavering, his golden eyes blazing with solar fire. "I'm testing something—whether a demon's body can endure burning better than a God of the Sun can."

With a final surge of will, Ragna activated the sliver of divine power he had reserved, summoning the scorching force of the Solar Core.

From the heavens, golden flames descended in a column of pure stellar annihilation—and he made no attempt to escape.

The demon struggled with all its might, dark energy convulsing around its charred form, but its injuries and Ragna 's iron grip rendered escape impossible. It had no choice but to suffer alongside the Asgardian warrior.

A deafening, guttural scream tore from Ragna 's throat. Even a god of the third order could not fully withstand the unfiltered wrath of a star. His body turned crimson from the heat, golden ichor seeping from his skin—only to evaporate in an instant.

But Ragna still screamed.

The demon did not.

The flames consumed it piece by piece, like wax melting from a candle. Its demonic wings incinerated first, then its head, then the rest of its body, reduced to nothing but a lingering black miasma, which was quickly carried away by the void.

Ragna let out a shaky breath, staggering. "As I thought… not even a bone left."

He willed the Solar Annihilation to subside. His divine body, though still standing, was cracked and scorched, his skin resembling burnt stone. Severely injured.

Yet, despite the agony that coursed through him, Ragna stood tall in the Sakaaran Arena, raising his broken hands and greeting the Grandmaster with defiant pride.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then—

A roar of applause.

"Champion! Champion!"

"Sun God! Sun God!"

Even the cold, ruthless Scarface Fighter—a veteran of the arena—could not help but pump his fists into the air, whether in celebration of the new champion or the fortune he had just won betting on Ragna .

From her private viewing box, Valina raised her left hand high in tribute to her master's victory while her right hand greedily poured the finest Zandarian wine into her mouth.

The tension of the championship battle had kept her from drinking, but now—now was the time to celebrate. Once outside this gladiatorial nightmare, she knew she'd never taste Sakaar's rarest liquor again.

On the Grandmaster's balcony, the eccentric ruler of Sakaar practically danced with excitement. He clapped his hands in rapid succession, his manic grin widening as he addressed the crowd.

"Spectacular! Absolutely spectacular! I'm overjoyed! Right here, in this very moment, a new champion is born!"

He twirled in delight and barked rapid orders at his attendants.

"Quick, quick, quick! We must immortalize our champion at once! Have his portrait engraved—no, sculpted! And the Champion's Tower—it needs another floor!"

His assistant, Topaz, raised a skeptical brow as the Grandmaster whirled toward her.

"Contact the Tiffany Group—faster! I want to see our champion's statue towering over Sakaar!"

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he snapped his fingers. "Ah! And medical staff—get them in here! Our champion must not remain damaged after such a legendary battle!"

But as those words left his lips, something unprecedented happened.

The moment the Grandmaster declared Ragna the champion, the Sun Warrior felt a sudden, overwhelming presence envelop him.

It was as if he had been flung into the heart of the sun itself—but there was no pain. Only warmth.

Ragna 's exhaustion vanished, washed away by an ethereal golden light that radiated from his very core.

Then, for the briefest moment, the sun above Sakaar flickered in response.

A silent ascension.

Fourth-Order Divinity.

Ragna had evolved.

The medics rushed into the field, eager to tend to their new champion. But Ragna , his body already repairing itself, merely shook his head and waved them away.

"No need."

A faint golden glow danced along his skin. With a sharp crack, the charred remnants of his old flesh split apart.

Before the ashes of his dead skin could touch the ground, they disintegrated into golden embers, vanishing into nothingness.

His injuries were gone. His cells thrummed with celestial energy, and the power of his newly ascended divinity coursed through his veins.

The battle was over.

But Ragna did not linger in the arena to bask in adoration.

He turned swiftly, pushing past the swarming crowds, his mind set on a single goal. He locked eyes with Valina, giving a sharp nod.

Together, they marched to meet the Grandmaster.

Unlike most who begged for an audience, Ragna did not need permission.

The Champion Warrior of Sakaar always had access to the Grandmaster's throne room.

As they arrived, the Grandmaster spread his arms wide, flashing a showman's grin.

"My best champion fighter! Why rush to me instead of basking in the glory you so rightfully earned?"

Ragna 's golden gaze did not waver. "Last time, you said your best champion was the Desert Death God."

The hulking woman beside the Grandmaster, Topaz, scoffed and deadpanned, "He did."

The Grandmaster's expression faltered for a fraction of a second before he recovered, offering a sheepish wink.

But Ragna had no patience for games. His voice was direct, cutting through the Grandmaster's theatrics.

"I need to leave. Now. Give me a ship strong enough to survive the void."

For the first time, the Grandmaster's grin wavered into a slight frown. He sighed, tapping his chin.

"Well, my champion, if that is what you wish, then I have no choice but to grant it! I am, after all, a man of rules—and the Champion's Freedom is one of them!"

Then, as if brightening at his own words, he flashed another wide grin. "But truly, you don't wish to stay? Sakaar has much to offer a champion! The pleasures, the riches, the fame!"

Ragna 's expression remained impassive.

For someone like the goat-headed demon—exiled, forgotten, reveling in blood and brutality—perhaps staying in Sakaar was desirable.

But for Ragna ?

This warped time-looped world of violence had nothing for him.

And he was leaving.