2 Chapter 2: Training

My life's pretty hectic lately. Waking up all morning for physical training in Asgardian martial art, unlike Earth fighting styles that have various movements. The one I was taught was simpler and more refined, the idea was to kill the enemy in the fastest and most accurate way.

My family and brothers are doing well. My dad's very busy. It seems to be a strange movement of the Frost Giants, who have remained unmoved since the last war. Father has asked Heimdall to keep an eye on their movements, but it appears that a certain group is using magic to block his vision, which means, things are a little tense. My mother is doing her job as always keeping my father on track and taking care of the political part of Asgard while Thor. How I'm gonna say that.

"I am Thor God of thunder. Hahahahaha"

After he awoke his gifts our father gave him the title of God and gave him Mjolnir to control and facilitate the use of his powers, of course Thor didn't know that. Let's say he was ten times more convinced and stupid, he now spends most of his time sleeping with women and drinking in the mead room that I am not yet allowed to enter, only older warriors can celebrate, I will be one of them after my first battle.

While Loki was sent to Alfheim, the land of the elves of light, to be trained by Queen Aelsa in the magical arts, I really miss him. Unlike Thor, he is the only 'normal' one here.

I woke up before sunrise, rose from bed, and glanced in the mirror. My body appears to be about 20 years old, with flexible muscles and golden hair reaching up to my face.

Donning leather armor crafted from a beast native to Asgard, designed for both lightness and durability, I equipped myself with a spear forged from silver metal. With resolve, I opened the door and made my way to the training camp.

"My Prince"

"My Prince"

"My Prince"

As I journeyed, the guards and servants along the way bowed in reverence to me. Initially, it felt somewhat peculiar, but over time, it became a familiar and accepted occurrence, almost second nature.

The training camp was either side of the palace, all the promising warriors were trained there, the greatest of them were promoted to commanders like Fandral who is training me now.

"Good morning, my Prince. Ready for another beating?" Fandral's jest cut through the air as we prepared for combat.

"It'll be different today," I replied, a hint of determination in my voice.

"We'll just have to see and find out?" Fandral's retort was met with a smirk as we assumed our combat positions.

Fandral wielded a thin sword and a small round shield, known as the fastest warrior in Asgard, his movements were swift and precise.

As I launched my attack with the spear, Fandral adeptly deflected its tip with his shield, swiftly countering with a thrust of his sword aimed at my thigh. I instinctively stepped back, evading his strike, but Fandral persisted, launching a flurry of attacks aimed at various vulnerable points on my body. Despite my best efforts to defend and evade, I began to feel the sting of small cuts as my skin met the sharp edge of his blade.

Feeling my warrior blood begin to boil with determination, I improvised, using the tip of my spear to hurl a stone at Fandral. Though it had no discernible effect on him, it momentarily disrupted his assault, creating an opportunity. Seizing the moment, I swung my spear low, striking at his feet and causing Fandral to lose his balance and fall backward. As he quickly recovered and dropped to his knees, I pressed my advantage, driving the tip of my spear toward his chest.

Yet, at the last second, Fandral managed to defend himself, thrusting his sword toward my foot as I hastily retreated, giving him room to rise once more.

"That was a low blow," I remarked, catching my breath.

"There is no such thing in war, my prince," Fandral replied coolly. "But I did not expect you to leave me in such a state so soon. I believe it's time we take this a little more seriously."

As Fandral relentlessly pressed his assault, striking blows aimed at the weaknesses in my defense, I found myself in a desperate struggle to merely fend off his attacks. With each passing minute, fatigue began to weigh heavily upon me, my movements growing sluggish, and my vision blurring as if threatening to succumb to unconsciousness.

In the midst of my exhaustion and the looming prospect of defeat, a strange sensation washed over me, an energy coursing through my body, and the very air around me seemed to gather around my spear. As the weapon began to glow red-hot, an intense heat emanated from both it and myself. Suddenly, Fandral's movements appeared slowed, almost as if time itself had stretched, granting me a momentary advantage.

Seizing the opportunity, I launched a lightning-fast attack with my spear, the weapon seemingly liquefying as it pierced through Fandral's shield with ease, finding its mark on his arm. As blood and smoke filled the air, I quickly withdrew my weapon, but my assault did not end there. With a swift kick to his chest, a brilliant flash of golden light erupted, sending Fandral hurtling backward through the air until he crashed to the ground several meters away.

Approaching my fallen opponent, I observed the tip of my spear melting from the intense heat it emitted, while my body was enveloped in a radiant golden glow, a protective aura seemingly surrounding me. Standing over Fandral, I positioned the tip of my spear at his neck, my voice calm yet commanding as I addressed him.

"So, do you surrender?"

"In the name of all the gods, what was that?" Fandral's bewildered voice cut through the air, his expression a mix of astonishment and curiosity.

"I don't know. It seems my gifts have awakened," I replied, my own voice tinged with wonder and excitement at the newfound power coursing through me.

"I give up, my prince. Looks like we're going to have another god in Asgard," Fandral conceded with a smile, his tone light-hearted despite his injuries. I couldn't help but laugh in response, a sense of fulfillment washing over me as I realized that this moment had been long anticipated.

"Now, can you call a healer? If not, I fear I might die right here," Fandral joked, his words punctuated by a grimace of pain.

Summoning a nearby servant, I instructed them to fetch a healer without delay. After some time, Fandral was carefully transported to one of them to receive the necessary treatment for his wounds.

As I reflected on the events that had transpired, I realized that with my newfound powers awakened, the path to claiming my title and securing my place among the warriors of Asgard had finally begun.

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