Marvel: AS A PRINCE IN ASGARD

Meanwhile, the battle between Thor and Valina raged on, stretching longer than expected.

Thor, despite his Asgardian lineage and wielding Mjolnir, was still limited in power. While the enchanted hammer bolstered his abilities, he was barely at the level of a low-tier Skyfather—strong but not yet the warrior he was destined to become.

Valina, however, was a different force entirely. Under Ragna's training, she had absorbed the power of the God of War, a divine force that rivaled even the Odinforce in raw combat ability. Without hesitation, she unleashed this strength upon Thor, overwhelming him within moments.

Her agility made her a blur on the battlefield, weaving through Thor's attacks with ease. Her Dragonfang sword, a legendary weapon forged from the tooth of an extradimensional dragon, slashed and cut with surgical precision. Thor, despite his divine resilience, found himself wounded repeatedly—golden ichor spilling from his divine body.

If not for Valina's long-standing history with Ragna, if not for her unwillingness to strike the fatal blow, Thor would have already fallen.

Now, he lay in a growing pool of his own blood, his grip on Mjolnir faltering.

His mind raced with confusion and disbelief. He had admired the Valkyrior since childhood, the legendary elite warriors who once swore loyalty to Asgard. And yet, here was one—standing against him, mercilessly attacking the son of Odin.

Through the clash of weapons, his eyes caught a detail that sent a fresh wave of shock through him.

A mark—etched onto Valina's arm.

A symbol unfamiliar yet unmistakably Asgardian in nature. His mind reeled. Why would a Valkyrie betray Asgard?

Why was she fighting alongside a stranger?

But Valina offered no answers. She simply continued her assault, her strikes relentless. Thor had no choice but to devote all his strength to defending himself, leaving him no opportunity to question her further.

Even so, he knew—he could not fall yet. Not while Odin still battled Ragna.

Then, suddenly—amidst his desperate struggle—Thor smiled.

Not far away, Heimdall and the Warriors Three had arrived. And at their lead, wielding her double-edged sword, was Lady Sif.

Their arrival should have reassured him. Yet what truly unsettled him was Odin's battle.

Odin, clad in the Destroyer Armor, wielding Gungnir, should have been at his peak—standing at the threshold of Skyfather-level power.

And yet, the battle against Ragna remained in a deadlock.

Worse still—Odin was slowly but surely falling into disadvantage.

Ragna, his flaming blade burning with celestial fire, parried another of Odin's strikes. Sparks erupted from the clash of weapons, the impact splitting the very air apart.

And then—Ragna laughed.

"Odin, you truly are old."

His sword met Gungnir in another violent collision, the force shaking the shattered remnants of the Bifrost.

"Tell me," Ragna continued, his voice unwavering. "Why have you grown so weak?"

"Why does the mighty Odin now falter?"

The question cut deeper than any blade.

Odin did not answer immediately, but his silence spoke volumes. His single eye burned with the wisdom of millennia, yet there was something else—something Thor had never seen before. Fatigue.

The Aesir, once they ascended to the fourth tier of divine strength, were not meant to age so drastically. Odin, the All-Father, should have had eternal vitality. And yet, here he was—struggling.

There was something wrong with Odin.

Something deeply, fundamentally wrong.

Odin's breaths grew heavier. His hands, once unshakable, moved slower. The Destroyer Armor, an extension of his will, no longer responded with its usual precision.

And Ragna noticed.

His flaming blade struck against the Destroyer's enchanted plates, the impact sending a harsh metallic screech through the air. Sparks showered in all directions, the armor beginning to show subtle cracks—not from lack of power, but from the sheer strain Odin was enduring.

Yet Ragna, despite his overwhelming advantage, remained unscathed.

His mastery over the Space Stone granted him near-absolute mobility, dodging Odin's most devastating attacks with ease. The difference was subtle—but in battle, subtlety meant everything.

They both knew it.

If this continued—Ragna would win.

Odin's body simply could not endure much longer.

The Reinforcements Arrive

Meanwhile, Heimdall and Sif stood over the battle between Thor and Valina.

The three warriors of Asgard—Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg—exchanged silent glances before launching themselves into the fray. Without hesitation, they moved to support Thor, attacking Valina in unison.

As for Heimdall—he merely stood watching.

He had no desire to interfere. This was Aesir against Aesir—a battle he wished never to see.

Besides—he knew Valina was holding back.

Even as she cut down the Warriors Three's weapons, even as she effortlessly disarmed Sif, even as she overwhelmed Thor—she had not killed anyone.

Heimdall's golden eyes narrowed. What was her true intention?

Sif, despite her prowess, barely lasted seconds. Her sword flew from her hands, and Valina's palm struck her neck—knocking her unconscious with a single blow.

The three warriors fared no better.

Fandral's rapier snapped in half. Hogun was struck hard across the chest, collapsing with a wheeze. Volstagg, for all his might, was left struggling to stand.

And then—there was Thor.

Valina turned toward him, her Dragonfang sword gleaming with red light—the power of the God of War surging through it.

Thor barely managed to lift Mjolnir, but it was too late.

With one final strike, Valina sent him flying.

Mjolnir clattered to the ground.

Thor groaned, struggling to rise—but Valina simply stared down at him, her expression unreadable.

Then—she kicked Mjolnir aside.

And uttered words that shook Thor to his core.

"Asgard cannot be protected by artifacts."

Her voice carried contempt.

"No—the so-called royal family… Have they ever truly protected Asgard?"

With that, she discarded her blade.

Dragonfang—the sacred sword of the Valkyrior—was thrown away like a relic of the past.

She had ceased her attack.

Like Heimdall, she now turned her attention to Odin and Ragna.

Frigga Arrives

Thor felt a warm, familiar presence behind him. Frigga had arrived.

Before he could react, she embraced him—her magic already working to heal his wounds.

Her gaze flickered toward Valina, who deliberately avoided meeting her eyes. Frigga said nothing—she simply continued healing Thor and the others.

Yet, even as she worked, tears welled in her eyes.

She knew—she had always known.

The battle between Odin and Ragna would not end so easily.

Because this was not just a clash of strength.

It was a battle between kings.

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