The third and final day of the tournament dawned bright and crisp, the morning air humming with anticipation. By the time the sun reached its zenith, the arena was alive with the excited murmurs of the gathered spectators. The stands were packed to capacity, Asgardians and visitors alike eager to witness the climactic melee that would crown the tournament's champion. The banners of noble houses fluttered in the breeze, and the scent of roasted meats and sweet mead wafted through the air.
On the field, the forty remaining contestants stood in a loose semicircle, their faces a blend of determination and apprehension. Each of them had fought valiantly to reach this point, and now they awaited the final test. Their weapons rested at their sides, gleaming in the sunlight, as they cast assessing glances at one another.
Algrim strode onto the platform at the edge of the field, his presence immediately commanding silence. Clad in dark, intricately wrought armor that gleamed with an almost otherworldly sheen, he carried himself with the confidence of a seasoned warrior and leader. His sharp gaze swept over the crowd, then settled on the young competitors before him.
"Warriors of Asgard and beyond," Algrim began, his deep voice cutting through the air like a blade. Each word was measured, deliberate, and carried the weight of authority. "You have faced trials that would break lesser beings. You have proven your courage, your skill, and your will to endure. But today, you face the greatest challenge yet—the melee."
He paused, his piercing eyes scanning the faces of the contestants. "The rules are simple, but the task is anything but. Forty of you will enter the arena. Only one will stand victorious. This is not a test of brute strength alone—it is a test of strategy, adaptability, and honor."
The contestants exchanged glances, some nodding in quiet agreement, others tightening their grips on their weapons. The tension in the air was palpable.
"You will be allowed to choose your weapon," Algrim continued, gesturing toward a rack of finely crafted swords, axes, spears, and shields that had been wheeled onto the field. "But no magic or enhancements of any kind will be permitted. The objective is to outlast your opponents while demonstrating the qualities befitting a true warrior."
From the stands, the roar of the crowd swelled, a wave of excitement that washed over the field. Algrim raised a hand, and the noise subsided almost instantly.
"At the sound of the horn, the melee will begin," he said, his voice firm. "You may form alliances if you wish. But remember this: alliances are fleeting. In the end, there can only be one champion. If you are struck down, you are to cease fighting immediately and leave the arena. Any attempt to defy this rule will result in disqualification."
He gestured to the arena behind him, which had been transformed overnight. It was no longer the flat, open field of the previous rounds. Now it was a sprawling battlefield, dotted with obstacles and terrains meant to challenge even the most skilled fighters. There were boulders to hide behind, narrow paths to navigate, and even patches of uneven ground to traverse.
"The terrain is as much your opponent as the other warriors," Algrim said, his tone low and foreboding. "Use it wisely. Think before you act. For those who rely on brute force alone will find themselves outmatched."
He stepped forward, his gaze locking onto each contestant in turn. His eyes lingered on Susan Bones, Haraldr, Bjorn, and others who had distinguished themselves in the earlier rounds. "I have seen your strength. Your cunning. Your determination. But today, you will show me who among you has the heart of a true champion."
The crowd erupted into cheers once more, but Algrim was not finished. He raised his voice, louder now, ringing with conviction. "Remember this: victory is not just a trophy to hold. It is a legacy. A mark upon your soul that will define you in the eyes of Asgard and the Nine Realms."
He stepped back, his voice lowering but still carrying across the field. "Take your places. Prepare yourselves. And may the best warrior emerge victorious."
As he finished speaking, the horn sounded, a deep, resonant note that sent a shiver through the crowd. The contestants moved toward the weapons rack, some with steely resolve, others with nervous energy. Susan exchanged a glance with Haraldr, her expression a mixture of determination and caution.
"Let's do this," she murmured, gripping her weapon tightly.
Haraldr nodded, his eyes already scanning the terrain for strategic positions. "Watch your back out there. Trust no one."
As they stepped onto the battlefield, the energy in the arena shifted, the anticipation reaching a fever pitch. The final test had begun.
—
The roar of the crowd was deafening as the forty contestants took their places on the sprawling battlefield. The energy in the arena was electric, charged with anticipation and the promise of glory. Banners waved in the wind, and the sun gleamed off polished weapons as the young warriors prepared for the challenge ahead.
Haraldr stood near the center of the field, his face calm but his eyes darting across the terrain, cataloging every potential advantage. "Stay sharp," he muttered under his breath, his grip firm on the hilt of his sword.
To his left, Susan Bones rolled her shoulders and took a steadying breath. Her copper hair caught the sunlight as she turned to Haraldr, her expression fierce yet calm. "We stick together for as long as we can," she said, her voice steady despite the nerves she was clearly fighting. "Then it's every person for themselves. Deal?"
"Deal," Haraldr replied with a nod.
Nearby, Neville Longbottom adjusted his shield and tightened his grip on a heavy axe. His usual easygoing demeanor was replaced by a quiet determination. "We've got this," he said, mostly to himself but loud enough for his friend Hannah Abbott to hear.
Hannah, standing beside him, offered a soft, encouraging smile. Her blond hair was tied back, and she gripped her staff tightly. "Just remember to breathe, Nev," she said in a soothing tone. "You've faced worse."
Draco Malfoy, stationed a few paces away, smirked as he inspected the blade of his sleek, silver rapier. His blond hair fell artfully across his forehead, and his gray eyes gleamed with confidence. "Don't get too comfortable, Longbottom," he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. "You might trip over your own feet before this even begins."
"Save the snark for someone who cares, Malfoy," Neville shot back, though his cheeks flushed slightly.
Luna Lovegood, standing with an air of serene detachment, tilted her head as she observed the field. Her blond hair, longer than usual and braided with wildflowers, framed her dreamy blue eyes. She glanced at Draco with a faint smile. "You know, I had a dream about this last night," she said. "You were eaten by a very large bird. It wasn't as unpleasant as you'd think."
Draco frowned, thrown off by Luna's comment. "What is wrong with you, Lovegood?"
"Nothing at all," Luna said with a shrug, turning her attention back to the battlefield.
Further down the line, Astrid, her golden hair braided tightly back, leaned on the haft of her axe with a grin. "You ready for this, Leif?" she asked, nudging her taller friend.
Leif cracked his knuckles and returned her grin, his blue eyes alight with excitement. "Born ready, Astrid," he said, his tone brimming with confidence. "Let's give them a show they'll never forget."
Bjorn, towering over most of the other contestants, adjusted the massive hammer slung over his shoulder. His red hair glinted in the sun, and he glanced at Leif with a smirk. "Just try to keep up, big guy."
"Keep up?" Leif scoffed, flexing his arms. "You'd better hope I don't lap you."
Sigrun, standing near Bjorn, rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. Her auburn hair, bound in intricate braids, framed her sharp features. "If you two are done comparing muscles, maybe focus on the actual fight," she said dryly.
Viggo, with his broad shoulders and steely gaze, adjusted the quiver on his back. "Let them talk," he said in his deep, calm voice. "More noise means more distractions for the others."
From the shadows near the edge of the arena, Skadi stood apart, her dark armor blending with the terrain. Her piercing gaze was fixed on Haraldr, her expression unreadable but her intensity unmistakable. "Soon," she murmured to herself, her lips curving into a faint, almost predatory smile.
The horn's deep, resonant blast shattered the tension, signaling the start of the melee.
Haraldr immediately moved, his sword at the ready. Susan stayed close to him, her eyes darting to every possible threat. "Left flank, Haraldr!" she called, spotting a trio of contestants converging on them.
"Got it!" Haraldr pivoted, his blade meeting the first attacker's strike with a resounding clang.
Neville let out a yell and charged into the fray, his axe cleaving through the air as he defended Hannah from an ambush. "Behind you, Nev!" Hannah cried, using her staff to block an incoming blow.
Draco, meanwhile, darted through the chaos with the agility of a fox, his rapier finding its mark with precision. "Too easy," he muttered, sidestepping a clumsy swing from another contestant.
Luna danced gracefully through the battlefield, her movements almost ethereal. She deflected blows with her staff, her expression calm. "Watch out, Susan," she called, sending a warning strike toward an opponent creeping up on her friend.
"Thanks, Luna!" Susan replied, spinning to take down the attacker with a swift strike of her own.
Astrid and Leif were a whirlwind of coordinated chaos, their weapons carving a path through the melee. "How's that for keeping up?" Astrid shouted over the noise, her grin wide.
"You're not bad—for a shieldmaiden," Leif teased, his laughter booming.
Bjorn, with Sigrun at his side, took down opponents with brutal efficiency. "Stay on my left," he instructed her.
"Don't tell me what to do," Sigrun shot back, though she matched his movements perfectly.
Viggo perched atop a boulder, his bow in hand. He loosed an arrow with deadly accuracy, taking out a contestant who had nearly cornered Luna. "Eyes up, Lovegood," he called, his voice calm but firm.
"Thank you, Viggo!" Luna responded cheerfully, as if they weren't in the middle of a chaotic battle.
Across the field, Skadi finally stepped into the fray, her dark blade cutting through the competition with precision. Her movements were calculated, her focus unwavering. As she closed in on Haraldr, her smirk widened.
The melee had only just begun, but already, alliances were forming—and breaking. Each step brought the contestants closer to glory, or to defeat.
—
The battlefield buzzed with tension as the group huddled, their circle tight against the encroaching chaos.
"We need to stick together," Draco urged, his voice cutting through the cacophony of clashing steel and roars from the crowd. His gray eyes flicked toward the fighters closing in on them, calculating each threat with a strategist's precision. "Most of these fools are going straight for Haraldr. Knocking him out will make them legends."
Haraldr glanced at him, his expression stoic but appreciative. "He's right. The second we split up, they'll pick us off. We hold the line, no matter what." His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword, the heirloom blade gleaming in the sunlight.
Susan Bones stepped forward, her copper hair pulled into a fierce braid, her sea-green eyes blazing with determination. "Let them come. They'll regret it." Her voice was calm, but her knuckles whitened around the hilt of her longsword, the only sign of her nerves. "I didn't come this far to let anyone take us down."
Neville hefted his twin axes, their edges already nicked from earlier battles. "Agreed," he rumbled, his quiet, unshakable resolve anchoring the group. "We watch each other's backs. No one goes down on my watch."
Luna Lovegood, serene even in the storm of chaos, tilted her head as if considering something whimsical. Her bright blue eyes sparkled with an otherworldly calm. "The battlefield feels… heavy," she mused, her soft voice almost drowned by the noise. She glanced at Draco, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I think someone nearby is wearing enchanted socks. But yes, we should use the terrain. It's on our side if we let it be."
Draco sighed but bit back a retort, rolling his shoulders and raising his rapier. "If we live through this, I'm banning you from speaking before a fight."
Leif, broad-shouldered and grinning like he was about to wrestle a frost giant, nudged Astrid with his elbow. "Let's give them something to talk about, eh?" His voice was deep, confident, the voice of someone who thrived in chaos.
Astrid smirked, her blonde hair tied back in an intricate braid. "As long as you can keep up, Leif. I'd hate to have to carry you through this." She spun her axe, its blade catching the sunlight like a warning.
Bjorn, towering even over Leif, stood behind them, his red hair wild and untamed, matching the fire in his ice-blue eyes. He adjusted the massive war hammer resting on his shoulder and gave a low chuckle. "If you two are done flirting, we've got company."
Sigrun, standing beside Bjorn with her own axe resting casually against her shoulder, snorted. "Focus, Bjorn. The only thing they'll talk about is how fast we took them down." Her auburn braids swayed as she moved into position, her expression sharp and unrelenting.
Viggo, calm and composed as always, kept his back to the group, his keen eyes scanning the horizon. He adjusted the quiver slung over his back and spoke without turning. "They're testing us. First wave will be a distraction. Second wave will be worse." He pulled an arrow from his quiver and nocked it. "Stay close, and don't get cocky."
The group tightened their formation, Haraldr at the center, as the first wave of contestants charged. The battle erupted in a symphony of chaos.
Haraldr's sword met the first blow with a ringing clash, the impact vibrating up his arm. He pushed forward, disarming his opponent with a swift, precise movement before stepping back into formation.
Draco sidestepped an incoming attack, his rapier flashing in the sunlight. "Try harder," he sneered, parrying a strike from a burly warrior with ease. He disarmed his opponent with a quick flick of his wrist, following it up with a sharp jab to the shoulder that sent the fighter sprawling.
Susan darted to his side, her movements sharp and controlled. "Less talking, more fighting, Malfoy," she quipped, her sword driving back a second opponent. She spun, her blade catching another combatant's weapon mid-swing, her strength and precision forcing them to stumble.
"Thanks for the tip, Bones," Draco muttered, though the faintest smirk tugged at his lips.
Neville roared as he brought his axes down on an incoming shield, the force of the blow sending the wielder staggering. "Behind you, Hannah!" he shouted, turning just in time to parry a spear thrust aimed at his back.
Hannah moved swiftly, her staff knocking the spear from the attacker's hands before sweeping their legs out from under them. "Got it, Nev. Don't worry about me," she said, flashing him a quick smile before returning her focus to the fight.
Luna weaved gracefully through the chaos, her staff deflecting strikes with an almost playful ease. She paused to tap Leif on the shoulder. "Your left," she said serenely, before using her staff to trip an opponent lunging at him.
Leif laughed, spinning to deliver a heavy blow with his sword. "Thanks, Lovegood. Don't let Malfoy hear you're better at this than he is."
Astrid and Bjorn fought back-to-back, a formidable duo. Astrid's axe carved through the air with deadly precision, while Bjorn's hammer smashed through shields like they were parchment. "Stay sharp, Bjorn," Astrid called, deflecting a strike aimed at his side.
"I'm always sharp," Bjorn replied with a grin, bringing his hammer down with a thunderous crack.
Sigrun, a blur of efficiency, dispatched an opponent with a swift strike before turning to cover Viggo's flank. "Still think this is a test, Viggo?" she asked, her tone sharp but teasing.
Viggo loosed an arrow that dropped a contestant mid-charge. "Every fight's a test," he replied, cool and calm.
Above the chaos, Skadi watched from the shadows, her expression unreadable but her eyes locked on Haraldr. She stepped forward, her blade glinting in the sunlight, ready to make her move.
—
The stands were alive with the energy of the melee, and the parents and guardians of the contestants leaned forward, eyes riveted on the battlefield. Pride, nerves, and a touch of competitive spirit painted their faces as they watched their children navigate the chaos.
Amelia Bones, sitting with an air of authority and unshakable composure, couldn't hide the glint of pride in her eyes as she watched Susan. Her niece's form was impeccable, her strikes decisive and controlled. "That's my girl," Amelia murmured, gripping the armrest of her chair tightly as Susan disarmed yet another opponent with a flourish. "She's got the Bones steel in her veins."
Beside her, Sirius Black had no such restraint. He leapt to his feet, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify his cheers. "That's it, Susan! Show them how it's done!" He grinned broadly, glancing at Amelia. "You've raised a proper duelist there, Amelia. Reminds me of Lily when we used to duel back in the day."
Amelia arched a brow at him, though her lips twitched in amusement. "If you mean she's cleaning up a battlefield while you shout from the sidelines, then yes, she's exactly like Lily."
Narcissa Malfoy, seated a few rows ahead with Bellatrix Lestrange and Andromeda Tonks, maintained a composed façade as her son, Draco, elegantly dodged and parried his way through the skirmish. Her ice-blue eyes flickered with approval as he landed a precise blow to disarm an opponent. "He's been practicing," she said softly, a touch of pride seeping into her tone.
Bellatrix, her dark hair framing a smirk, leaned back with a wicked glint in her green eyes. "He's got your flair, Cissy. The way he toys with his prey? Delicious." Her voice was a purr, and she seemed to relish every calculated strike Draco made.
Andromeda rolled her eyes but smiled faintly. "He's clever, I'll give him that. Though I'd wager he's already planned three escape routes if things turn dire."
Narcissa allowed herself a faint smile. "That's what makes him a survivor."
Fandral, dressed in his usual Asgardian finery, sat nearby, his golden locks gleaming under the sunlight. He clapped appreciatively as Draco dispatched another opponent with a sly smirk. "The boy's got style," Fandral said, his voice full of approval. "Cunning and elegance—true marks of a Slytherin. I rather like that about him."
Further down the stands, Frank and Alice Longbottom sat beside Eirlys Potter, their eyes locked on Neville as he fought with an intensity that left many in awe. Frank clenched his fists, mirroring his son's movements. "That's my boy," he said under his breath, his voice thick with emotion.
Alice, her hands clasped tightly together, broke into a broad smile as Neville shielded Haraldr from a flanking opponent. "Look at him, Frank. He's so… brave." Her voice cracked slightly, overwhelmed by pride.
Eirlys, her fiery red hair catching the sunlight, leaned forward with a wide grin. "That's not just bravery," she said, her green eyes sparkling with a mix of pride and mischief. "That's Lily's fierce determination mixed with James' stubborn refusal to back down. I can't take my eyes off him."
Alice chuckled softly, brushing a tear from her cheek. "He's incredible. They all are."
A few seats away, Volstagg was a force of nature in the audience, his booming laughter echoing over the din of the crowd. "Bjorn! Sigrun!" he roared, his voice like thunder. "You're making the House of Volstagg proud! Smash them to pieces, my boy!" He slapped his thigh in delight as Bjorn deflected a strike with his war hammer, his red hair wild as flames.
Sigrun's precise strike earned a cheer as well. "There's the spirit!" Volstagg bellowed, turning to his neighbors. "You see that? That's the fire of a Volstagg running through their veins! They've got their mother's cunning and their father's strength. Unstoppable!"
Meanwhile, Xenophilius and Pandora Lovegood were in their own world of quirky enthusiasm. Xenophilius adjusted his Spectrespecs and tilted his head, marveling at Luna's graceful movements. "Look at that, Pandora. She's like a Crumple-Horned Snorkack in a field of flailing Erumpents—elegant and completely unbothered."
Pandora, her golden curls bouncing as she nodded in agreement, leaned toward him with a radiant smile. "That's our Luna. Always one step ahead, even when it looks like she's off in her own little world. Did you see that sidestep? So clever."
"She's using her instincts," Xenophilius said dreamily, clapping his hands together. "Like I always told her—trust the Wrackspurts to lead the way."
—
The melee was chaos—shouting, clashing steel, and the heavy thud of boots against dirt. But Skadi, her icy blue eyes gleaming with predatory focus, moved like a shadow through the fray. Her blade, sleek and deadly, hung at her side, and her every step was deliberate, calculated. She had one target: Haraldr, the youngest prince of Asgard. He was the heart of his group, and taking him down would shatter their resolve.
However, her path was abruptly blocked by a broad-shouldered, red-haired wall of determination: Bjorn, Volstagg's son.
Bjorn hefted his battle axe with an almost casual ease, his expression fierce yet tinged with the thrill of the fight. His blue eyes locked onto Skadi's with the unspoken promise of a challenge. "If you think you're getting anywhere near Haraldr," he growled, his deep voice rumbling like thunder, "you'll have to get through me first."
Skadi's lips curled into a sharp smile, her sword already shifting into a defensive position. "I'd expect nothing less, Bjorn," she replied, her tone cold and cutting. "But don't think for a second that I'll make this easy for you."
Bjorn didn't waste time with further words. He swung his axe in a powerful arc, aiming to overpower her with sheer strength. But Skadi was faster. She sidestepped smoothly, her sword flashing out to deflect the blow. The clang of metal echoed, and she spun around, forcing him to turn to keep up.
"You rely too much on brute force," Skadi remarked, her voice as sharp as her blade. "It leaves you predictable."
Bjorn snorted, grinning despite himself. "Brute force works just fine when you're built like me." He launched another attack, this time feinting to her left before pivoting to strike from the right.
But Skadi was ready. She caught the movement, her blade darting up to parry. Sparks flew as their weapons met, and with a sudden, precise twist, she knocked his axe off balance, sending it skidding to the side.
Bjorn stumbled, his footing faltering, but he recovered quickly, his jaw tightening in determination. "Nice trick," he admitted, rolling his shoulders. "But I'm not done yet."
"Good," Skadi replied, her voice like frost on steel. "Neither am I."
Bjorn charged again, his fists now raised as weapons. Skadi blocked his wild swing, ducked under another, and delivered a swift strike to his side with the flat of her blade. The force sent him reeling, but still, he didn't back down.
In the stands, Volstagg watched with an expression that was equal parts pride and frustration. His massive hands gripped the arms of his chair as he leaned forward. "Bjorn, boy, stop letting her toy with you! Use your head!" he bellowed, his voice booming over the din of the fight. "And by the All-Father's beard, don't let her knock you flat!"
Beside him, several spectators jumped at the sheer volume of his voice, but Volstagg paid them no mind. "That's it, lad!" he shouted as Bjorn regained his footing. "You've got her size. Don't let her wriggle out of it!"
Bjorn, hearing his father's encouragement, set his jaw and lunged forward with renewed determination. This time, when Skadi deflected his punch, he was ready. Instead of overcommitting, he pivoted sharply, catching her off guard. His shoulder slammed into her, and she staggered back a step.
Skadi's icy composure cracked for a moment, her brows furrowing. "Not bad," she admitted, shifting her grip on her sword. "But you'll have to do better."
She darted forward, her speed unmatched, and before Bjorn could block, her blade whirled in a precise arc, catching him in the side with enough force to knock the wind out of him. He fell to one knee, gasping, but when Skadi moved to pass him, he struck.
With a fierce growl, Bjorn lunged, wrapping his powerful arms around her legs and dragging her down with him. The two crashed to the ground, a tangle of limbs and weapons. Skadi twisted like a snake, her blade coming dangerously close to his throat, but Bjorn used his sheer strength to wrestle her arm away.
In the stands, Volstagg was practically roaring with approval. "That's my boy! Never let go, Bjorn! You've got the blood of a warrior! Hold her down until she cries for mercy!" He laughed loudly, clapping a hand on his knee. "By Thor's hammer, that's how you win a fight!"
Skadi, her breath coming in quick bursts, snarled as she finally broke free of Bjorn's grip, flipping backward to put distance between them. She glared at him, her cheeks flushed from exertion. "You're stubborn," she said, her tone edged with grudging respect.
Bjorn grinned, his red hair wild and his face streaked with dirt and sweat. "You don't get to be Volstagg's son without learning how to take a beating."
Skadi tilted her head, a wry smile playing on her lips despite herself. "Fair enough. But this isn't over yet."
She darted forward again, her blade flashing, and Bjorn raised his fists, ready to meet her head-on. Around them, the melee raged on, but in that moment, it was just the two of them locked in battle, neither willing to yield.
—
Haraldr twisted to glance over his shoulder, his sharp instincts catching the commotion just as Bjorn hit the ground with a resounding thud. The red-haired warrior groaned, trying to push himself up despite the dazed look in his ice-blue eyes. His weapon lay just out of reach, and the imposing figure of Skadi loomed over him like a shadow. Her sword was steady in her hand, her breath barely labored, and her dark hair clung to her face. Her grin was sharp, wolfish, and utterly unrelenting.
"Stay down," Skadi said, her voice cold and cutting as frost. "You've put up a good fight, Bjorn, but this isn't your day."
Bjorn, ever the son of Volstagg, gave a rough laugh as he wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. "You talk too much," he muttered, his voice gravelly but defiant. He began to rise, slow but steady, determination blazing in his eyes.
Before either could make their next move, Haraldr made to step forward, but a sudden group of attackers surged toward him, cutting him off. Susan Bones, her fiery red hair tied back and her wand gripped tightly in her hand, snapped her focus away from Skadi to stand protectively at Haraldr's side.
"Haraldr," Susan warned, her tone steady despite the tension in the air. "She's relentless. Bjorn's good, but she's… different. She doesn't just fight to win—she fights to dominate."
Beside her, Viggo tightened his grip on his sword, his broad shoulders tense as his sharp gaze scanned their opponents. "Susan's right," he said, his tone low but firm. "Skadi's not just skilled; she's calculating. She's already thinking three steps ahead of us, and she's not afraid to make things personal."
Haraldr nodded, his jaw tight as he raised his blade. "Then we hold the line," he said, his voice steady and commanding. "Bjorn gave us time. Let's not waste it."
Susan's grip on her wand tightened, her green eyes flickering to Skadi for the briefest moment. "We need a strategy. She's not going to stop unless someone stops her first."
Before Haraldr could respond, there was a sharp grunt from the battlefield. They all turned just in time to see Skadi knock Bjorn's second attempt to rise flat with a brutal kick to his midsection. Bjorn hit the ground with a groan, but still, he struggled to push himself up again.
"You don't know when to quit, do you?" Skadi asked, her tone almost amused as she stood over him.
Bjorn, coughing, managed a lopsided grin. "I'd hate to make it easy for you."
From the stands, Volstagg's booming voice cut through the noise of the battle. "That's my boy, Bjorn! Show her what it means to be a Volstaggson! Never stay down!" His deep laughter followed, though it was edged with nervous pride. "Remember, lad—stubbornness is just another word for courage!"
Skadi rolled her eyes slightly at the commentary but couldn't hide the flicker of respect in her expression. "You're tougher than you look," she said. "But not tough enough."
With that, she raised her sword for what looked to be a decisive blow—but before she could bring it down, another figure stepped into her path.
Leif, tall and broad, with golden hair catching the light, strode forward with measured steps. His hammer-like weapon rested easily in his grip, but his sharp green eyes were locked on Skadi with a challenge.
"That's enough, Skadi," Leif said, his voice calm but resolute. "Bjorn's done his part. Now it's my turn."
Skadi tilted her head, her lips curving into an almost playful smile as she turned to face him fully. "Leif," she said, drawing out his name like a taunt. "Big, strong, and always so noble. Let me guess—you're going to tell me to back down, aren't you?"
Leif smirked, shifting his weapon to rest on his shoulder. "I wouldn't waste my breath. I know you're too stubborn for that. But I'm not Bjorn. If you want to take another step, you're going to have to go through me."
Bjorn, still on the ground, groaned but managed to lift a hand in mock protest. "You know, I was handling it…"
Leif didn't glance back, though a flicker of amusement crossed his face. "Sure you were, Bjorn. I'll remind you of that next time you're sprawled on the ground."
Skadi snorted softly, her grip tightening on her sword. "This ought to be interesting," she said, her tone low and dangerous. "I've always wondered if your strength is more than just talk."
Leif's grin widened, but there was steel behind it. "Guess you're about to find out."
As the two squared off, Susan turned to Haraldr and Viggo. "Leif can hold her off for now, but we need to plan our next move. She's good, but she can't be everywhere at once."
Viggo nodded, his sharp gaze flickering between the fighters. "Leif's good, but if Skadi's as smart as I think she is, she'll already be thinking about her next target."
"And so should we," Haraldr said, his voice calm but firm. "Let's make sure she doesn't get the upper hand."
On the battlefield, Skadi and Leif circled each other, their weapons gleaming in the sunlight. The tension crackled like lightning, and the crowd in the stands leaned forward in anticipation.
---
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