"This might go against my daughter's own will, but I wouldn't mind if Solomon used a little force. Your disciple is too shy, too chivalrous—at a moment like this, with the fate of the Nine Realms at stake, chivalry can be set aside." The Sorcerer Supreme rolled her eyes, treating the Queen of Asgard's words as mere noise.
Just minutes ago, Frigga had been shouting at the water mirror, shocked by the ferocity of Solomon and Hela's duel. She'd even blurted out things like "talk it out properly" and "a husband and wife's fight is bad for politics"—foolish exclamations that nearly gave the Sorcerer Supreme a headache. Granted, Frigga's scenario was ideal: if Hela laid down her hatred and bore Solomon's child, establishing a co-governance between Midgard and Asgard, then perhaps Ragnarök might be averted.
As a Vanir goddess who knew spells even Odin didn't, Frigga was fully aware of the multiverse's existence. Yet compared to the grim alternatives she'd seen, Frigga preferred to bet on even the slimmest chance. Now, she had no objections to the gamble Solomon and the Sorcerer Supreme were undertaking. After all, with or without the gamble, Asgard would lose everything once Ragnarök came. A desperate all-in was not a difficult decision to make.
Meanwhile, locked in brutal combat beneath the relics of countless Asgardian heroes, Solomon and Hela remained unaware of Frigga's designs. The Sorcerer Supreme had no intention of using such a possibility to stop the battle.
Hela was growing more and more frustrated.
Solomon fought with cunning, often baiting her with an opening only to lure her into a trap. For Hela—used to wide, sweeping battlefield engagements rather than intricate swordplay—this style of fighting was especially grating. In the split second of every exchange, she had to ask herself: Is this my best move? Or am I falling into his rhythm again? Was this her own counterattack or something he had subtly manipulated her into doing? Solomon's technique might seem youthful to someone with millennia of war experience, but he still denied her a decisive blow.
The jagged cliffs gained more scars with each clash.
As Hela's irritation escalated, she no longer cared whether she was damaging the remains of her fallen comrades. It was Solomon who took care to avoid them, often adjusting his angle mid-combat to steer Hela away from desecrating the already fragile armor and bones. Shards of broken Asgardian armor clattered off Solomon's winged helmet as Hela, now wielding a massive black battle halberd, attacked furiously. The weapon's twin axe blades could hook a shield, while the spear tip atop was meant for lethal thrusts.
It gave Solomon trouble at first—until he clanged his shield down and signaled to Pegasus to toss him the Holy Lance. With the spear in hand, Solomon trapped the halberd, then brought down the Holy Sword, snapping the weapon's shaft with a sound that made Hela's scalp tingle.
If not for her quick reflexes blocking with her enchanted sword Nightfall, Solomon might've cleaved her in half. Infuriated, Hela swore to show this mortal the price of such disrespect.
Pegasus yawned. Standing atop the planet's highest peak—on a world where not even snow fell—it watched the battle below with mild boredom. It noticed a golden light swelling from the mountain base, piercing through the cold clouds. That meant things were heating up—its master was beginning to unleash his real strength.
If not for the clashing weapons, Pegasus might have thought it had wandered into a dressage show. Besides throwing down the Holy Lance, it had done nothing. Solomon didn't intend to ride him in this battle. The sounds of battle echoed through the canyon, shaking the rocks. A weird itching sensation tickled Pegasus's teeth via its hooves. It rubbed its jaw and decided to ignore its trembling flanks—ever since Athena gifted it to Solomon, Pegasus had been gaining weight. Fruit, wine, prime meat—all devoured. Unhealthy, yes, but mortal vets knew nothing of divine beasts. What was a little fat?
The battle had raged the entire day. Pegasus doubted it would ever end.
Solomon now released two of his holy stigmata. Hela had lost all restraint, fighting with unhinged fury. The difference in Asgardian and human physiology left him at a disadvantage—he needed every edge to stay alive in this vicious sword duel.
Since her halberd had been shattered by the Holy Sword, Hela had clung to Nightfall. The wounds it left chilled Solomon to the bone—literally. His temperature dropped with each strike. Even with his armor's life-support systems pumping antibiotics, disinfectants, and alchemical salves, the wounds inflicted by Nightfall resisted healing. His flesh continued to die, the infection never properly setting in—only a deadly, slow decay.
Hela, by contrast, had fully adapted to her immortality.
Her attacks grew swifter, more brutal, striking at the joints and seams in Solomon's armor. Though Solomon had fought without holding back—out of respect, not mercy—the brutality had taken its toll. Hela wasn't trying to win anymore; she was trying to kill.
The Arcanist knew reasoning with a woman in this state was hopeless. But even now, he wouldn't stoop to using magic in their duel.
"If it weren't for Odin…" Hela snarled, her blood-smeared, pale body trembling. Muscles bunched and twitched as dried blood flaked off onto the rocks. Solomon wasn't doing much better. Nightfall was one of the most lethal weapons Hela had ever wielded—on par with Mjolnir—and even Uru armor couldn't stop its edge. She knew that if she regained her full power, this mortal wouldn't stand a chance.
Had Solomon known what she was thinking, he'd have reminded her that she hadn't factored in his stigmata—or his actual profession. He wasn't a warrior. The knight persona was just a side gig. His real job was being a sorcerer.
Hela had seen only a few of his magical tricks—small things she hadn't taken seriously.
Except for his short-range teleport spell Step of the Lost, which he'd used more than once to shift the tide of battle.
"Do you have any way to make them reconcile?" Frigga asked, pointing at the silver-faced water mirror. This made the Sorcerer Supreme suspect she was pretending to be clueless just to pressure him into revealing more. "To be honest," he sighed, "I didn't bring any love potions."
Under the Sorcerer's sharp gaze, Frigga finally confessed, "I thought Kamar-Taj might have one. We could sneak it into Helheim's underworld river. Then, when they finally pause to rest and take a sip, boom—they've drunk the love potion! Just like that, the entire plan falls into place!"
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I Am Zeus, KING OF GODS (Chapter 79)
Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 391)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 471)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 677)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 1059)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1418)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1422)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1452)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1504)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld!(Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 703)
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