Unknownfate
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Chapter 147
🕑 Added 2025-06-04 16:55:26 +0000 UTCHe took it, his grip cool and theatrical, not a trace of strength behind it. “Marvelous. Let the games begin.”
On the sands below, Halvar stomped once, sending a ripple through the arena floor. His axes gleamed like thunderclouds caught in moonlight. The crowd murmured with anticipation.
Mordred drew Clarent.
There was no flash of power, no dramatic aura—just steel and bloodlust.
She didn’t wait for a signal. With a roar, she lunged forward, a blur of red and silver. Halvar swung one axe—wide and powerful—but she slid beneath the arc, kicking his knee with enough force to crack stone. The Asgardian staggered.
“Fast,” Loki murmured.
“Clarent is lighter than most expect,” I said mildly, watching as Mordred spun into a rising slash, scoring a line across Halvar’s ribs.
“And sharp, few mortal weapons can wound an Asgardian.” He commented, his curiosity clear in his voice.
“Clarent is no simple weapon; it was once mine, the weapon of a king, a magical blade that empowers its wielder, but only if they are a king.” I lightly explained.
It wasn’t much, but it was more than enough to get him interested.
Loki’s eyes lit up like a scholar discovering a lost rune. “A king’s blade that empowers only rulers?” he repeated, intrigued. “How delightfully... exclusionary. Which leaves the question, why isn’t Your Majesty the one using it?” He asked, glancing down at the sword at my side, Avalon hid its appearance and power.
On their own, both of them were extraordinary, impossible to ignore, their power impossible to miss, yet when combined? They seemed almost normal.
“I never used it, since I got it, I never favored it. I found it lacking compared to my other swords, it isn’t the weapon of a knight, but a king, and back then, I was far more knight than I was king,” I answered, feeling almost nostalgic as I did.
Down below, the fighting continued. Halvar had learned his lesson, not to underestimate Mordred, treating her like just another mortal human would be a mistake, and he learned quickly and well.
As an elite Asgardian, a guard of Odin himself, Halvar was impressive. No doubt many centuries of skill behind him, none of my knights had nearly that much experience, so he was good, very good.
“So, if the sword only works for a king, why is your knight using it? Wouldn’t it be powerless in their hands?” Loki asked.
I could feel the desire in his voice; he likely wanted the sword, being a king, but weak himself, he likely dreamed of it being something akin to Mjolnir, able to grant him great power.
It would be interesting to see what would happen, but it wasn’t possible, not anymore. “Mordred stole it as an act of rebellion against me, and soaked it in my blood. The sword is now cursed, so its power is gone, but it's still a good sword, and Mordred likes it.”
He looked slightly disappointed; he wanted the sword, but had no use for a cursed blade. “Cursed? And she still wields it?”
“The curse isn’t too bad, it’s just extra effective against me, that is to say, the sword that kills kings and fathers, used against those, it's far more dangerous and powerful.”
Loki leaned back, fingers steepled beneath his chin as he regarded the duel with a contemplative expression. “How poetic. A blade meant for kings, made lethal against kings.”
Halvar swung again, this time with sharper control, pressing Mordred with precise, punishing arcs. She parried one, ducked the next, then delivered a headbutt to his chestplate that rang through the arena like a bell.
The Asgardian grunted in surprise.
Because Mordred didn’t wear her helm, she ended up coming out of that move worse than he did.
“She fights like a berserker,” Loki observed.
I couldn’t help but be slightly embarrassed as one of my best knights suddenly found herself pushed back and on the defensive as her move just gave her opponent the advantage. “She is used to fighting people far weaker than her… so there she doesn’t have to worry about anything like that happening.”
Loki chuckled softly, watching as Halvar took full advantage of Mordred’s momentary disorientation. The Asgardian pressed forward with calm, brutal rhythm, his twin axes dancing like falling guillotines.
“Overconfidence then,” Loki mused aloud.
I sighed sadly, “Indeed, she is strong. But reckless and easily angered. That’s both her flaw… and her charm.”
Below, Mordred caught one axe with the flat of Clarent and pivoted, using her momentum to deliver a punishing kick to Halvar’s midsection. It connected—but not hard enough to turn the tide again. He didn’t even stumble.
“She’s losing,” Loki observed with a trace of satisfaction, his eyes glittering.
“If she does, she deserves it for underestimating her opponent; such a mistake shouldn’t happen. Though it is but a friendly match, in a full-out fight, I’m sure she wouldn’t struggle like that.” I couldn’t help but defend her.
I truly did believe in her because she was good, but also fighting while holding back a lot. So far, she hadn’t used any real skills, never mind even wearing armour. Though a lot of that was due to her not taking him seriously, and now, she couldn’t suddenly pause the fight.
Which meant she would either have to go all out, or eat the harsh lesson of never taking a divine servant like an Asgardian lightly.
She might be a servant, unbeatable by a normal human, even one enhanced this way or that, but she wasn’t fighting against someone like that, but against a legend in his own way.
“It sounds like you don’t mind a loss, surely you haven’t forgotten our bet?”
I turned to him with a faint smile. “I haven’t forgotten. But this isn’t about pride. It’s about growth.”
Loki arched his brow. “So noble. So... boring.”
I didn’t answer. Below, Mordred ducked another strike, barely avoiding the bite of Stormclap as it tore a chunk from the arena floor.
“Then again, she isn’t the only one fighting like a berserker; he, too, is swinging around quite a bit of power.” I said, very glad I didn’t let them fight inside the castle itself.
Loki chuckled at that, his gaze returning to the duel. “A fair point. I suppose even gods can be overeager when an audience is watching.”
The clash resumed with renewed intensity. Halvar, emboldened by his earlier success, bore down with another furious combination—one axe high, the other sweeping low. Mordred narrowly leapt over the lower swing, twisting in midair. Her blade caught the descending arc of Stormclap, sparks flying as steel bit into steel.
The crowd roared.
It wasn’t everyday they got to see a fight like this, Mordred was famous, and she was feared, so seeing someone other than my knights able to go toe to toe with her was a first for them.
They also weren’t the only ones paying attention, already now this match had caught a lot of attention worldwide. Everyone knew of Loki’s claim and believed it to some degree, but they also hadn’t dared to test him.
So this was the first chance many of them had to see just how strong those Asgardians truly were, and well, they didn’t disappoint.
Personally, I felt this man was far stronger than even the Warriors Three, at least from what I remembered seeing them doing in the movie.
I didn’t think even Thor would be all that much stronger, so I couldn’t help but give Loki another glance. Because this man he had brought with him surely wasn’t just a small time Asgardian, but the best of the best.
At the same time, I was impressed with the power of Asgard. In the movies, they had been rather disappointing. But here, in this reality, they were anything but that.
Loki caught the glance, and his smile grew sharper, as if he could read my thoughts.
“I admit I was ill informed,” I admitted. “I knew Odin was powerful, but other than him… all I knew was Thor, and in his current state, he isn’t all that impressive.”
Loki chuckled, “My brother is indeed not the best measuring tool for the overall strength of Asgard, my father, despite his love of peace, has many great warriors under him.”
“And more than just warriors as well, surely you aren’t the only sorcerer in Asgard.” I asked, hoping he would want to show off and expose some more of Asgard’s strength.
Loki’s grin widened, unmistakably pleased by my curiosity.
“Oh, of course not,” he said, lounging back on the stone throne as though we were discussing opera. “Though few have what it takes to walk far down that path, my mother is without a doubt the greatest, followed very closely by me.” He said with pride in his voice.
“How envious, my own realm lacks in magical might. Once I had Merlin, a wise, court wizard, a master of illusions and much more, but sadly, he went chasing the wrong woman and got imprisoned for all time.”
Loki’s grin faltered for just a heartbeat. “Eternal imprisonment? That seems… excessive.”
“Indeed, it was a hard punishment, but such is the danger of spurning a woman’s love. We are vindictive creatures.” I said lightly.
Though I was pretty sure my tone had a shiver run down his spine. Good, he better behave himself, as far as I knew, he had a history of cutting a girl’s hair off, Sif, if I remembered correctly, and no man messes with a woman’s hair.
“But he can’t still be imprisoned, right? As a human, he should have been long dead by now.” he said, chuckling nervously.
“No, he is still alive, he can’t die, he is half demonic in nature, and the place he is held, the realm of Avalon, is one without death, so there, he still stands, using his magic to watch a world he can’t be a part of again, he might even be watching us right now.”
Loki went still. Only the subtle tightening of his fingers around Gungnir betrayed his unease. “Alive… and watching?” he repeated, his voice almost too light. “How quaint. Like a ghost tethered to the windowpane, forever shut out.”
“More like a prisoner clutching the bars,” I replied. “A master of illusions, undone by his own curiosity, entered a trap due to arrogance, a tale worthy of caution, no?”
He just gave a nervous chuckle as he quickly looked back at the fight.
Mordred had been pushed into using Mana burst while we talked, now the boost of her skill caused red lightning to cover her body as she moved, Clarent moving through the air with deadly force and speed.
Halvar, however, wasn’t one without means. In response to Mordred's own powerup, he too seemed to use some strange technique, letting out a battle roar as his skin turned golden, giving him far greater strength and speed than he had before.
“It seems they are more evenly matched than I expected, Mordred might even lose this one.” I hummed as I gently drummed my fingers against the armrest.
“Not regretting our little vaguer are we, your Highness?” Loki teased, but his eyes didn’t leave the fight.
I had a feeling he, too, was surprised by Halvar’s strength, because it didn’t seem to fall short of what I expected from Thor, and he was God of thunder, son of Odin, and prince. For some random guard to match that?
Yeah, that wasn’t a random guard at all, something Loki seemed to be realizing as well.
I knew that Mordred still had her Noble Phantasm left; she could use it, and maybe win… but I didn’t want her to use such a powerful attack in a friendly match. “Say, Your Highness, it seems this fight won’t end easily, how about another deal?”
Loki turned to me, brows lifting with amused intrigue. “Oh? And here I thought Albion’s pride wouldn’t allow such concessions.”
“This isn’t about pride,” I said smoothly. “It’s about wisdom. You and I both know how easily this could escalate beyond a spar. And frankly, I would rather not see my city’s arena reduced to rubble over something as trivial as entertainment.”
He tilted his head, intrigued but clearly cautious. “Go on.”
“If Halvar were to—how shall I put it—misstep,” I said, choosing my words with deliberate care, “if he were to allow Mordred a narrow victory, I would, in return, honor our previous wager now.”
He blinked once, then slowly leaned back into his seat, clearly delighted. “You would give me my question now? Without waiting to see the outcome?”
“I would,” I confirmed. “I am confident in Mordred’s strength, but given their current performance, I fear she won’t hold back, and neither of us wants that, so. You take the loss, let Mordred win, and you still get your prize, and I don’t have to listen to Mordred whine about ending the fight when she was winning.”
Loki let out a low whistle, clearly enjoying the game. “You drive a hard bargain, Your Majesty. Sacrificing the truth of the fight for political stability... oh, how very kingly of you.”
“Indeed,” I said. “A lesson in compromise. Consider it a gift.”
He laughed, and for once, it didn’t have that serpentine edge. “Very well. I’ll signal him.”
