Will humanity claim its first victory?
Or will the gods secure the opening win?
With a snarl unlike any before, Thor's face twisted into a savage expression. He gripped Mjölnir tighter—until the handle shattered under his grasp.
His hand plunged deep into the hammer's core.
Then, like a tumor erupting from flesh, Mjölnir began to grow, absorbing Thor's arm into its body, fusing with him completely.
The weapon changed.
Its hammerhead flattened on one side—becoming an axe.
"Mjölnir can do that?!"
"Lord Thor… had a hidden ace?"
Odin's ravens were stunned.
Even Loki gasped. This transformation—this final form—had never been seen before. Clearly, no past opponent had ever pushed Thor to such extremes.
Then…
Loki's pupils contracted sharply.
The human had changed too.
Chapter 63: Demonic Mech Form
Thor's fusion with Mjölnir had ignited roars from the gods. His power surged beyond previous limits. Lightning leapt off him, arcing through the air, distorting the very atmosphere around him.
But before triumph settled in—
The human changed again.
Xiang Yu's mechanical body twisted and transformed further into something more brutal. A war machine. A slaughter engine.
Two new arms formed. The sword in his grip split into four, one in each hand.
His legs reshaped, no longer human but beast-like, engineered for feral combat.
From his back unfolded wings—mechanical bat-like appendages, made of sleek skeletal metal, not flesh.
Blue-green lines lit his body in eerie flame-like patterns, glowing like eldritch fire.
Gray trembled as she whispered:
"He looks like a mechanical demon…"
The air itself groaned under the weight of their clashing auras.
Even gods who had moments ago demanded human submission now fell silent.
This was it—the final clash.
The stage of Ragnarök. God vs. Human.
All eyes were locked. All breath held. This was the moment that would rewrite history.
BOOM—!
An explosion tore through the arena.
Far beyond earlier collisions, the blast cracked the walls themselves, terrifying the closest spectators.
The ground shook. Before the shockwave faded, light enveloped the coliseum—
Black lightning and cerulean flame intertwined, radiating skyward and coloring the heavens a ghostly hue.
Then came the sound. A delayed roar of the shockwave.
Most couldn't even hear the deafening blast—many were too disoriented. Numb. Their minds blank, ears stunned.
"Uwah!"
Gray cried out as a shard of rubble grazed her head. Pain forgotten, she stared back at the battlefield.
Wait—what was that?
On the screen above, the final strike played in slow motion.
Thor leapt forward, his axe-hammer trailing jagged black lightning behind him, converting his body into a streak of deadly light.
Xiang Yu, cloaked in glowing azure flames, spread his wings and leapt too—his four blade-wielding arms aimed forward like grasping claws.
Then—
The screen glitched. The clash was too intense. The image broke.
Gray turned her gaze back to the arena.
"Brynhildr?"
She whispered, startled by her sister's twisted expression—an unnatural tension that looked almost… painful.
Better not to speak. Not now. Disturbing Brynhildr in this state meant suffering later.
So Gray waited, heart heavy.
She wanted humanity to win. But having lived among gods her whole life, it was hard to believe they could be defeated.
Even now, even seeing how evenly matched they were… her confidence was fleeting.
"Who won…?"
"Surely Lord Thor."
The reply came not from mortals—but from the two ravens perched upon Odin's shoulders.
One white, one black.
The white raven sounded nervous. The black one firm—but with a hint of stammering uncertainty.
Then both glanced at Odin.
His expression was dark. Grim.
The glowing fog began to fade—compressed inward by a sudden vacuum.
Air pressure shifted. The clouds vanished.
And revealed—
"A… draw?!"
Heimdall's voice rang out, sharp as a blade.
Both warriors were still standing.
But not face-to-face.
They had swapped positions, standing back to back.
"No—no, it's not a draw!"
Heimdall shouted again.
Thor showed no further injuries.
But Xiang Yu…
His body was twisted and broken. Arms shattered. His swords reduced to hilts. A deep, brutal gash slashed across his chest—likely made by Thor's fused axe-hammer.
He staggered forward, nearly collapsing—then forced himself upright again.
Everyone could see it. He was standing by sheer will alone. The last of his strength gone.
The outcome was clear:
Victory belonged to Thor.
But it wasn't over yet.
In this tournament, the fight ended only when one side died.
Thor would need to deliver the final blow.
But… why wasn't he moving?
Suddenly, Heimdall froze.
The divine record—Akashic Feedback—had revealed something. Something almost no one else had seen.
Yes, victory had been decided.
But not in the way everyone thought…
Chapter 64: Godslayer
A man whose body resembled chiseled stone finally allowed himself to exhale.
Then he glanced quickly around—no one had noticed. Good. He adjusted his posture, letting his relief slip quietly inside.
This was Ares—the sixth among the Twelve Olympian Gods. The God of War.
As a deity of combat, showing weakness was unacceptable. He had to be the image of composed strength, radiating calm and control.
So his breath—his tension—was concealed behind his facade of stoicism. No one saw that flicker of unease. His image remained intact.
Yet deep inside… he was shaken.
This battle had shattered expectations.
A human—no, a weaponized human soul—had forced Thor, the furious berserker of Norse myth, to unleash techniques unknown even to his fellow gods.
Moves no one had seen before. Moves no enemy had ever drawn from him.
And now… the victor was clear.
The scales had tipped toward the divine.
Thor merely needed to deliver the final strike—to end the battle and secure the gods' first triumph.
Ares could barely contain himself. His fists nearly clenched in excitement.
But no—he must remain composed. Let other gods celebrate.
"ROOOAAAARRR—!"
A tsunami of voices erupted from the spectators, cheering Thor's name like a war cry.
"See, human? This is divine power!"
"Kneel, mortal!"
"Submit to the gods!"
Once again, their arrogance rang loud.
On the human side, some faces fell. Hope began to crumble.
But others still clung to faith—chanting Xiang Yu's name, pleading for their champion to rise.
Yet it was clear… their hero had nothing left.
Their cries faded, one by one.
"Xiang Yu of Western Chu… I raise my glass to you."
Ares lifted his goblet.
A toast—for the fallen.
A farewell to a warrior worthy of divine respect.
Just as the gods reveled in victory—something shifted.
Thor still hadn't moved.
He stood motionless.
Then Heimdall froze.
The Akashic Records—a divine archive connected to all realms—had whispered truth to him.
A truth that no god, no mortal, not even Heimdall himself had fully seen.
Yes… the battle had ended.
But not how they thought.
Victory had been claimed.
And not by Thor.
The winner… was human.