Chapter 155 - 1

Within the grand halls of Asgard, a magnificent banquet was in full swing. The walls of the palace were adorned with vibrant frescoes, each depicting the peace Odin had established with the realms. The air was filled with the clinking of glasses and the sounds of laughter as Asgardians celebrated the harmony that had been safeguarded under Odin's rule.

"To the indomitable All-Father Odin!" The toast echoed through the hall as the revelers raised their glasses high in homage to his leadership.

"To the enduring peace of the Nine Realms!" they proclaimed, celebrating the tranquility that had been preserved.

"To the Queen!" they toasted, acknowledging her grace and wisdom.

"And to the future prince," they declared, honoring the promise of new beginnings.

Laughter and cheer flowed through the hall, mingling with the music of clinking glasses and heartfelt congratulations. The atmosphere was one of warmth and camaraderie, a stark contrast to the figure who stood apart from the revelry—a striking man with jet-black hair and piercing eyes, whose gaze remained cold and distant.

This man was Solvarg Odinson, first son of the All-Father and the next in line for the throne of Asgard. Despite his royal lineage, doubts surrounded Solvarg's worthiness to rule, doubts that were amplified by the Queen's impending childbirth.

"Too weak," they whispered. "Inadequate."

No matter how much Solvarg trained or fought, he could not match the divine strength of Odin or the enchanting powers of the Queen. Though he had fought valiantly, his efforts seemed futile; in martial prowess and magical mastery, he was but a shadow of his heritage. His perceived mediocrity cast doubt on his ability to lead the Nine Realms, making him a subject of ridicule, particularly in Asgard, where strength was revered above all else.

Heimdall, the ever-watchful guardian of the Bifrost, approached Solvarg with a smile, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Solvarg, let's raise a glass to peace in the Nine Realms," he exclaimed, excitement gleaming in his eyes.

With a sly wink and a mischievous grin, Heimdall leaned in closer. "There are quite a few beautiful goddesses at this banquet. Interested? I know a few of their secrets, so feel free to take your pick!" he added teasingly.

In their younger days, Heimdall and Solvarg had been the closest of friends. But while Heimdall had matured into his role as the vigilant guardian, Solvarg's path had been more uncertain. Once, there had been whispers that Solvarg might ascend the throne, being Odin's only son at the time. But as Hela's military triumphs outshone his own, those aspirations had gradually faded.

Now, with news of the Queen's pregnancy and the impending arrival of a formidable prince, Solvarg's dreams seemed even more distant. Only Heimdall, with his all-seeing eyes, truly understood the challenges Solvarg faced in proving his worth. Despite his relentless efforts, Solvarg remained overlooked by the people of Asgard.

Forced to wear a smile despite his internal struggles, Solvarg found no solace in the merriment around him. "Is this truly the right path? She's his own flesh and blood," Solvarg confided in Heimdall, his voice tinged with concern.

Heimdall's expression shifted, his gaze subtly turning toward Odin on his throne. Leaning in closer, he spoke in hushed tones. "It's all for the sake of peace. The will of the All-Father," he whispered.

A cynical sneer curled Solvarg's lips. "All-Father," he echoed mockingly.

Five centuries had passed since the inception of Asgard, and yet the struggles endured. As he looked around, it felt like a scene torn from a saga of old; Asgard stood proud, and he, with a hint of bitterness, knew he bore royal blood.

Yet, that confidence had waned with age, his efforts to gain strength yielding little success. Despite rigorous training, he remained disappointingly weak. A crushing realization dawned upon him: though he understood everything around him, he lacked the power to change any of it.

Over five centuries, Solvarg's fate had become an enigma. Even Heimdall, with his vigilant watch over the Nine Realms, couldn't keep constant tabs on him. Memories of past lives blurred, lost to the relentless passage of time.

Yet, being born of divine heritage had its advantages. Even without the divine strength of his ancestors, Solvarg endured as an Aesir, a fact etched into his five-hundred-year-old memory. A cascade of memories overwhelmed Solvarg's thoughts: Odin's distant presence during his infancy, the occasional glimpses of the All-Father in his youth. Despite Odin's aspirations to conquer realms, moments of paternal affection punctuated Solvarg's early years. However, as Solvarg matured, his lack of divine prowess disappointed the All-Father, leading to a growing sense of neglect.

In the grand hall, a hushed stillness enveloped the space as Odin's stern gaze fixated on Solvarg, transforming the once-vibrant banquet into a solemn affair.

"My son, Solvarg, do you harbor grievances against me?" The All-Father's lone eye bore into the air, exposing the inner turmoil plaguing Solvarg.

Within the profound silence, an enigmatic system sprang to life within Solvarg's mind, presenting him with choices:

[Option 1: Unleash your fury upon Odin. Reward: Awaken the formidable power of the Sun.]

[Option 2: Temper your rage, choose a more calculated response to Odin's inquiries. Reward: Amplify your magical abilities.]

[Option 3: Play the submissive game, swear allegiance to Odin. Reward: Obtain a precious treasure from Asgard's extensive vaults.]

Solvarg Odinson's mind buzzed with anticipation, his thoughts a whirlpool of possibilities that the System had suddenly laid out before him. After five centuries of silence, the timing of this reawakening felt almost surreal, and he couldn't help but marvel at the profound changes it promised.

"Five hundred years... exactly five hundred years," he murmured, his voice tinged with both awe and disbelief. The weight of centuries pressed down on him, yet the excitement of the System's return eclipsed any lingering frustration.

His thoughts drifted to Odin, the source of his vexation and protection alike. Being the son of an Asgardian ruler in an expansive, unforgiving universe was no small burden. Survival, especially as a mere mortal among formidable Asgardian warriors, was a constant struggle. In this cosmic arena, rarity equated to value, and Solvarg's status as Odin's son made him both a treasure and a prisoner. Loyalty to Odin demanded the surrender of personal freedom.

Yet now, the System offered a new path—a game-changer. The allure of unlocking the Sun's power overwhelmed any doubts about the challenges it would bring. For now, Solvarg's focus was on seizing the opportunity before him, navigating the intricate dance of power acquisition in a universe teeming with peril and potential alike.

Brushing aside these thoughts, Solvarg returned to the present moment, his heart resonating with long-held grievances as he faced Odin. The All-Father, indifferent and distant, had shown little regard for him over the years. Yet amidst this neglect, there were pockets of care—Frigga, the patient queen, and Hela, his sister, who had offered him solace and support.

Frigga, with her nurturing patience, had tirelessly shared wisdom with Solvarg, nurturing him despite his perceived weaknesses. Hela, despite her duties as the Asgardian Legion's commander, had always found time for her little brother, bestowing peculiar gifts and offering unwavering affection.

Hope had kindled in Solvarg's heart when Hela spoke of venturing beyond the Nine Realms, promising him a gift that would amplify his strength upon her return. But fate had intervened. Odin, in a swift and brutal coup, had wiped out Hela's loyal followers and banished her to a realm of eternal darkness.

The aftermath was bleak. Hela's loyal mount, Fenrir, had suffered a similar fate, condemned to the depths of Castle by Odin's wrath. Asgard, marked by Hela's downfall, now enjoyed a semblance of peace at the cost of her legion's sacrifice.

Deep in contemplation, Solvarg fixed his gaze on Odin, grappling with the enigma of his actions. While he never doubted Odin's love, the treatment of Hela and Asgard's esteemed warriors left him puzzled and troubled.

"I've heard a jest," Solvarg began, his voice firm yet tinged with incredulity, "that those hailed as heroes and saviors during conflict are swiftly branded as butchers and executioners once peace dawns. They become the scorn of the masses, their valor tarnished."

A smirk played on Solvarg's lips, a silent challenge to the solemnity of the hall. His words hung in the air, daring anyone to contest their truth. The room fell into a heavy silence, tension crackling like static. Beads of sweat formed on the brows of those gathered, a testament to the weight of Solvarg's words. The air was thick with anticipation as the echoes of his challenge reverberated through the hall.

Odin's laughter shattered the tense silence, echoing through the hall like thunder. His countenance, a blend of amusement and something darker, betrayed the gravity of the moment.

"Indeed, a jest of the most absurd kind," Odin chuckled, his lone eye gleaming with an intensity that sent shivers down spines. "Are you daring to question my decisions, Solvarg?" Odin's voice boomed as he rose from his throne, Gungnir gripped tightly in hand. With each step, Odin closed the distance between them, his gaze piercing through Solvarg like a spear.

But Solvarg remained resolute, standing his ground in the face of Odin's wrath. Heimdall, sensing the impending storm, moved to intervene, but Odin's dismissal was swift, a gesture accompanied by a crack of thunder that sent Heimdall sprawling.

Frigga, driven by protective instinct, stepped forward to shield Solvarg, but Odin's stern rebuke forced her to retreat. The others in the hall dared not interfere, cowering in the shadow of Odin's authority.

Solvarg's eyes flickered with a mixture of defiance and empathy as he surveyed the scene. Despite Odin's fury, he couldn't help but feel compassion for those caught in the crossfire.

"I may not seek conflict, but I understand its necessity," Solvarg declared, his voice unwavering. "Peace is not merely attained; it is earned through strength and sacrifice."

"But why, Father?" Solvarg's voice softened, a note of desperation creeping in. "Must you sacrifice the very heart of Asgard for the illusion of peace? I cannot accept it."

"Do you intend to rebel against me as well?" Odin's voice was low but carried a heavy weight as he spoke, his brows furrowed in a mix of anger and frustration.

"You are right in saying that only war can bring peace," Odin continued, his voice growing more intense. "But do not forget, only those with power can make their voices heard!" His words were laced with both bitterness and resolve, as he gripped Gungnir, ready to silence Solvarg's dissent with a decisive strike.

Heimdall lay unconscious, lost in a deep coma, while Frigg stood on the sidelines, torn between her desire to intervene and her fear of further enraging Odin. Her eyes flicked between Solvarg and Odin, worry etched into her features.

All eyes were fixed on Solvarg as he prepared himself for Odin's impending blow. The air in the grand hall was thick with tension as Solvarg bravely faced Odin's wrath. But even Solvarg couldn't withstand the might of the All-Father's attack and crumpled to the ground, grievously injured.

Murmurs swept through the crowd. The onlookers whispered amongst themselves, speculating about Solvarg's fate at Odin's hands.

But then, something extraordinary happened.

A scorching light burst forth from Solvarg's left arm, radiating an otherworldly energy that left everyone stunned. With a surge of strength, Solvarg raised his arm and intercepted Gungnir, halting Odin's assault in its tracks.

Even Odin was taken aback, his eyes widening in astonishment as he gazed at Solvarg. The All-Father's expression was a mix of surprise, disbelief, and perhaps even a flicker of concern.

"Could it be? Is he truly tapping into divine energy?" someone in the crowd whispered.

"It seems like formidable solar energy," another murmured.

"Since the demise of the Sun God, solar energy in Asgard has been scarce. For him to wield such power is no small feat," a third voice added.

Asgardians were known for their physical prowess, their strength far exceeding that of Earthlings. But this advantage wasn't merely about besting humans in combat; it was about the exponential increase in their overall combat abilities.

Every Asgardian had the potential to awaken divine power, though it wasn't guaranteed. While many remained as typical Aesir without divine abilities, those who did awaken gained divine titles corresponding to their specific powers. These titles were ranked across four tiers, each conferring greater status and power.

First-tier divine power or neoprimus power level allowed one to assume minor leadership roles, while second-tier called Zyldelta evel granted the status of a general, akin to warriors like Sif. Third-tier divine power or Vorsigma level made individuals renowned across the Nine Realms, comparable to Thor before his full awakening. Fourth-tier or Aelitum, the level of the All-Father, bestowed dominion over the universe itself.

However, ascending these ranks was no easy feat. Even Thor, freshly awakened, had fallen to foes like Hela and Thanos, showing just how difficult it was to reach the highest echelons of power.

Solvarg struggled to his feet, feeling a surge of energy coursing through his body. The sun's rays outside Asgard invigorated him, his strength growing with each passing moment.

"Is this the power of the sun?" Solvarg marveled, a smile creeping across his face. "With just a second-tier awakening… The exposure to the sun's rays is making my power grow. Once I reach the fourth tier, I could command the stars, unleashing solar flares that could obliterate worlds. It's extraordinary!"

"Solvarg, you must understand your place," Odin declared as he reclaimed his throne, his gaze stern. "In this realm, the weak have no voice."

"I shall punish you," Odin continued, his voice echoing through the hall. "A millennium of imprisonment. Perhaps in that time, you will learn the respect you lack."

Leaning on Gungnir, Odin initiated Solvarg's trial.

Heimdall stirred slightly at the commotion, but even he could not halt the king's judgment. Frigg wept openly, yet her tears did nothing to sway Odin's decision.

Odin, the All-Father and ruler of the Nine Realms, commanded respect that none could challenge. Those who transgressed faced inevitable consequences.

[The host faces the trial of the All-Father and must make a choice.]

[Option One: Accept Odin's trial, endure a thousand years of darkness in imprisonment, and receive the reward of Odin's favor, along with a Level 1 upgrade to solar power.]

[Option Two: Kneel and implore Odin to revoke the trial, remain in Asgard, and earn Frigg's favor, including a parcel of land.]

[Option Three: Reject Odin's trial, opt for self-imposed exile, leave Asgard, and receive rewards including a cosmic star map and access to a reincarnation pool.]

Enduring a millennium of darkness just for Odin's favor and a slight boost in solar power seemed absurd.

A thousand years was far too long. With the potential of his abilities, Solvarg could surpass Odin within that time frame, making such a sentence unjustifiable.

Kneeling and begging for mercy was out of the question; it went against Solvarg's very nature.

Self-exile appeared to be the only viable option.

With the cosmic star map and access to the reincarnation pool, Solvarg could explore the universe, perhaps finding a distant planet where he could build a base for himself. Once there, he could hone his power, far away from the reach of the All-Father.

The Reincarnation Pool, a revered creation of the supreme deity of the Angels, is a marvel of divine power. Annually, it can generate one high-level Angel, equivalent to the Vorsigma power level, twenty mid-level Angels, matching the Zyldelta power level, and an astonishing 500 low-level Angels, akin to the neoprimus power level. By dedicating significant faith and devotion, one can unlock and elevate formidable King Rank Angels and Angel Armaments, thereby enhancing celestial might.

To say that the Reincarnation Pool's capabilities are unmatched would be an understatement. Establishing a sanctuary and nurturing its power for a decade could rival Asgard's might, even in the absence of Odin and Hela, who had suffered extensive losses among their elite forces in battle. With a century of dedicated growth and the strategic elevation of several King Rank Angels, one could achieve dominance over the Nine Realms, surpassing even the three paramount empires of the universe and establishing unparalleled supremacy over all existence.

"I reject your verdict, All-Father," declared Solvarg Odinson calmly, a hint of disdain coloring his tone.

The assembled crowd gasped in shock.

"What is he trying to achieve?"

"Does he intend to face eternal imprisonment?"

Odin's fury flared, only to be swiftly suppressed, leaving an icy resolve in his gaze.

Frigga noticed the tension and saw Odin's countenance darken further.

"Your Majesty," Frigga interjected, giving Solvarg a subtle wink, "Solvarg is merely a young prince, speaking out of turn."

She then signaled to the guards with urgency, "Quickly, seize the prince and confine him to the forbidden chambers. Let him contemplate his actions!"

Although Odin's decree threatened Solvarg with a millennium of imprisonment, Frigga hoped that once Odin's anger subsided, there might be room for reconsideration. After all, Solvarg was not just anyone; he was Odin's own son, the Prince of Asgard and heir to the throne. His potential was too great to be dismissed so easily.

The courtiers murmured among themselves, recognizing that a weak prince would never ascend the throne, but a powerful one with strong type of divine power like Solvarg might one day rule over Asgard. They pleaded for clemency, understanding the importance of maintaining a favorable relationship with Solvarg.

Odin observed from the sidelines, offering Solvarg a final chance for redemption.

But Solvarg, resolute, forcefully pushed aside the Asgardian guards who attempted to detain him.

"I reject your judgment," he declared defiantly, his voice resonating through the hall. "From this moment forward, I shall be the sole judge of myself. No one else shall decide my fate!"

"I will exile myself, renounce my birthright as Odin's son and heir to Asgard, and leave this realm!"

With unwavering determination, Solvarg announced his decision.

Indeed, Asgard was a realm abundant with riches and safeguarded by Odin's might, yet it also confined Solvarg within a gilded cage of expectations and limitations. Bound by his lineage, he found himself restricted from pursuing many paths of self-improvement. Numerous treasures that could enhance his power remained out of reach due to his princely status.

Even without the foresight of his remarkable destiny, Solvarg had resolved to venture beyond Asgard's borders in search of untold power. He refused to be shackled by fate's chains and condemned to a life of stagnation.

As the gravity of Solvarg's words settled in the hall, a profound silence enveloped the chamber, stifling any further conversation. All eyes turned towards Odin, awaiting his next move.

Even Frigga appeared desperate in this critical moment. On one side stood her husband, consumed by rage, while on the other stood a determined parent and child. She felt helpless.

"Very well," Frigga finally said with resignation, her voice tinged with sorrow. "If relinquishing your status as Odin's son and forsaking Asgard is the trial you have chosen, then so be it."

Solvarg responded with a composed nod. "Very well, it shall be as you command."

But Odin's composure finally broke as he roared in anger, "Leave Asgard at once! You are no longer my son! You have no sanctuary here! Begone!"

With a weary sigh, Odin declared, "I need to rest," and then left from the throne of Asgard.

The hall emptied rapidly, even Heimdall leaving after casting a sympathetic glance at Frigga. Left alone, Frigga's tears fell as she gazed at Solvarg.

"I'm sorry, Mother," Solvarg whispered, his eyes mirroring her sorrow. "I have my reasons for leaving Asgard. You will always be my mother, and I promise to return."

Solvarg departed Asgard with a resolve to acquire the power necessary to alter the course of events and protect Frigga's life.

He faced a formidable decision. He could have chosen to remain in Asgard, enduring a millennium of imprisonment. Yet, even after a thousand years, he would emerge more powerful than Thor at the start of the Marvel saga. But would that strength be sufficient?

Could he prevent the dark elves' assault with sheer might alone? And what of Thanos' catastrophic snap?

To gamble on a fifty-fifty chance was unthinkable. Solvarg refused to place his fate, Frigga's life, and the lives of all he cherished on such uncertain odds.

The only solution he could envision was to confront and eliminate Thanos before he could wield the Infinity Stones. But this task was daunting. Even a fully empowered Thor, wielding Stormbreaker and supported by the Avengers, could only match Thanos in battle. Ultimately, it was Thanos' snap that sealed his fate.

The risks were immense, the odds slim. Yet, Solvarg's very existence had already set off a series of events that might shift the balance. In the face of such uncertainty, could that one-in-ten-million chance still manifest?

Solvarg dared not gamble. His only recourse was to strengthen himself as much as possible before the pivotal moment arrived—to become mightier than Thanos and thwart him before he could assemble the Infinity Gems.

In front of Bifrost's imposing entrance, Frigga was notably absent as Solvarg Odinson prepared to depart. Despite a brief exchange with Solvarg while in Asgard, Frigga found herself unable to sway Odin and Solvarg's decisions. All she could do was silently hope that time would eventually mend the rift.

Fortunately, Asgardians boast impressive lifespans. Heimdall bid Solvarg a tight embrace, his silent trust speaking volumes. He knew Solvarg's choice was made with careful consideration.

"Take me to Midgard!" Solvarg's voice rang out with determination.

Having resolved to enter self-imposed exile, he had chosen Midgard, known as Earth over a millennium ago, as his destination. It seemed like the most prudent choice at the time. With the Ancient One yet to be born, the risk of being trapped in an infinite loop was non-existent.

Though Heaven and Hell remained adversaries, the Sorcerer Supreme and the Nine Realms Agreement ensured that formidable forces couldn't easily invade Earth. It remained a sanctuary, shielded from cosmic conflicts. Moreover, Earth already housed the faith of angels and gods, offering Solvarg ample belief to draw power from.

His plan was straightforward: gather a contingent of king-ranked angels, bolster his strength on Earth, and then venture forth into the universe.

With a swift motion, Heimdall activated Bifrost, plunging the rainbow bridge into action. Solvarg confidently strode into the gleaming pathway.

"Earth awaits!" His declaration echoed as he positioned himself at the heart of Bifrost, avoiding its edges like the plague.

The unknown beyond the bridge's boundaries held both promise and peril—land on a lush world or plummet into the abyss of a black hole.

Solvarg's sole wish was safe passage to Earth, not a reckless gamble with his fate.

"Detecting Bifrost fluctuations," a voice urgently warned. "Activate teleportation protocol, maintain Bifrost connection."

"Asgard is under attack! Prepare for battle," another voice stressed with urgency.

Then, a colossal battleship materialized, casting disruptive ripples through Bifrost's structure.

Amidst the chaos, Solvarg was violently expelled, hurtling into the abyss.

In those fleeting moments before darkness claimed him, Solvarg glimpsed a figure seated upon a throne, exuding a pulsating aura of power.

"Odin, relinquish the Space Gem!" the figure demanded.

A towering figure of cosmic might, his form shimmering with celestial energy, attacked Asgard. His eyes, vast and penetrating, seemed to hold the secrets of the universe. His skin, a radiant, ethereal blue, reflected the cosmic light that coursed through his being. A flowing, ethereal cape billowed behind him, trailing stardust in its wake. His hair, a radiant, shimmering gold, framed his glowing features. His identity remained a mystery, shrouded in the cosmic light that surrounded him.

In his prime, Odin, upon learning of the assault and Solvarg's plight, wasted no time. Clad in the armor of the Destroyer, he rode his eight-legged steed, wielding Gungnir with unwavering resolve.

He swore to display the might of the true ruler of the Nine Realms – the unyielding Odin.

After a massive battle, Odin managed to slay the invaders.

In the aftermath, Odin drowned his sorrows for seven days, while Frigga mourned in solitude upon hearing of Solvarg's fate.

Heimdall, with his vigilant gaze, scoured the realms for any sign of Solvarg but found naught, leaving his eyes wide with concern and doubt.

Refusing to relent, Heimdall's gaze darted, but the hushed whispers faded, settling into a somber silence.

Heimdall couldn't help but shoulder some blame, regretting his failure to detect invaders sooner and thwart their malevolent designs.

Yet, it wasn't solely his burden to bear.

Despite eyes capable of scouring the cosmos, formidable barriers and elusive entities could elude even Heimdall's vigilant watch.

As the sands of time sifted through the hourglass, Heimdall treaded cautiously, ever mindful of not stoking Odin's fury or deepening Frigga's sorrow.

Sakaar - The Wasteland

With a thunderous crash, Solvarg plummeted from the heavens, his battered form meeting the unforgiving ground below.

"Cursed land, what in the Nine Realms..." he muttered, struggling to rise.

Wrinkling his nose at the noxious fumes assaulting his senses, a foul amalgam of discarded refuse lingered in the air.

"At least I missed landing straight into the garbage heap..."

Surveying the towering mounds of waste surrounding him, Solvarg bitterly pondered his plight. A onslaught on Asgard, had unexpectedly hurled Solvarg—Bifrost rider—into the unknown.

Once a mystery beyond the Bifrost, now Solvarg had a glimpse of the realm. A void of space, vast and suffocating.

Were it not for his Aesir lineage and the awakened divine energy coursing within him, Solvarg would have succumbed to the void's crushing weight long before.

Survival was a serendipitous twist of fate.

Whether he landed amidst the refuse or elsewhere mattered little to Solvarg; such trivialities held no sway over him. Perhaps there lay an opportunity to confront Thanos amidst the refuse.

But before Solvarg could gather his bearings, a group of oddly garbed aliens, their features masked and their arms laden with weaponry, encircled him.

These were the scavengers of the Wasteland.

"Warrior or food?"

"Nay, looks fresh, that's food."

Clearly, Solvarg's dramatic descent from the heavens had sparked the scavengers' interest. To them, he was but prey.

"Food? Fighter?" Solvarg Odinson mumbled, disoriented and uncertain of his surroundings. The hostility emanating from the scavengers before him left him little time to process.

Without warning, a scavenger lunged, weapon raised, aiming to strike Solvarg. In a flash, an electric arc enveloped him, crackling with energy. Undeterred, the scavengers closed in, intent on subduing him with their weapons.

As the energy weapon discharged, it shattered. Meanwhile, the electric arc continued to assault Solvarg with a feeble electric current, attempting to render him unconscious.

Gripping the electric arc firmly in both hands, Solvarg's eyes sparked with determination. With a swift motion, he tore it apart. "Is that all? You think you can trap an Asgardian?" he scoffed, tapping into his Aesir heritage and awakening divine power.

In the vast expanse of the universe, most firearms posed little threat to Solvarg, let alone a simple electrical arc. The scavengers, momentarily startled by Solvarg's display of power, hesitated, unsure of their next move.

"Get him!"

"We need more food!"

"Get lost," Solvarg's voice cut through the chaos, dripping with disdain as he swiftly defended himself against the scavengers' relentless assault.

With each move, Solvarg displayed a mastery of combat, striking down his attackers with calculated precision. His fists and feet moved like lightning, a symphony of strength and agility as he faced down his adversaries.

Even amidst the chaos, Solvarg remained resolute, his unwavering determination shining through as he confronted his foes head-on.

"Take him down, aim for the head!"

"We're running low on food."

As Solvarg mercilessly dispatched the scavengers, some of them hesitated, witnessing the brutal display, while others scrambled to consume whatever they could scavenge.

Scar, the apparent leader among them, downed a swig of something potent, gripped his weapons tightly, and unleashed a relentless barrage of gunfire at Solvarg.

Energy beams streaked through the air, shattering scavengers unfortunate enough to still be in Solvarg's vicinity, unable to escape in time.

Despite Solvarg's resilience, the relentless assault forced him to shield his eyes and retreat.

"These weapons are useless against him!"

"Dammit, what kind of godforsaken creature is he?"

"Keep firing! Don't let up until he's down for good!"

The scavengers, realizing their firearms were ineffective, erupted into a frenzied panic. But under their leader's guidance, they didn't scatter. They knew all too well that in this desolate wasteland, unity was their only chance at survival.

"This is a bloody waste. Selling him off to a grandmaster as a fighter could fetch us at least a million."

The leader's eyes narrowed as he assessed Solvarg, his frustration evident but his determination unyielding.

Despite their efforts, they couldn't bring down Solvarg with sheer firepower alone. Their only hope was to outwit him, to find a weakness in his formidable defenses.

Caught off guard, Solvarg stumbled backward, his mind racing as he scanned the chaotic scene for an opportunity. Spotting a defective energy cannon amidst the scavengers and a heap of garbage behind him, Solvarg knew he had to act fast.

As the onslaught of attacks rained down upon him, Solvarg's mind raced, seeking a strategy to outmaneuver the scavengers and emerge victorious.

But dodging the barrage wasn't his style, nor was diving into the refuse below. Solvarg needed a cunning plan to deal with these scavengers.

"Can't say I'm a fan of these energy beams," Solvarg muttered to himself, assessing the situation.

With lightning reflexes, he intercepted the high-energy particle beam with his arms, scattering it in a mesmerizing display of deflection.

In a moment of inspiration, Solvarg tapped into the power of the sun, unleashing a radiant burst of light that enveloped his form entirely.

"Behold!" Solvarg declared triumphantly as a formidable energy gathered, descending from the sky—Solar Flare.

The scavengers faltered. Amidst the chaos, the solar beams found their marks, decimating the scavengers. Despite a few grazing hits, Solvarg pressed forward undeterred.

As the surviving scavengers ceased their fire, realizing the futility against Solvarg's radiant power, they scrambled to shield their eyes and flee.

Knowing the terrain well, they aimed to evade through the garbage dumps and find refuge in the towering heap, their typical sanctuary.

Yet, Solvarg's relentless pursuit and the scattered beams thwarted their escape, sealing their fate.

Three unfortunate scavengers fell to friendly fire, while one narrowly dodged the beams only to meet Solvarg's swift justice.

Amidst the wreckage, Solvarg watched as the scavengers turned on each other until only two remained, nervously back to back, weapons drawn.

Meanwhile, their leader, cunning and wounded, lay feigning death among the fallen, enduring the agony in his eyes.

But Solvarg, emboldened by the sun's power, detected the faint signs of life among the supposed corpses with ease.

Without hesitation, he dispatched the remaining scavengers, leaving only their leader sprawled on the ground.

Placing his foot upon the leader's chest, Solvarg leaned in close. "You'll answer my questions, or you'll meet your end. Clear?"

"Understood," the scavenger leader conceded, recognizing there was no point in hiding anything from Solvarg Odinson any longer. He quickly adopted a more subservient tone, saying, "If you have any questions, I'll answer them all, no secrets, I promise."

Solvarg glanced at the scavenger who lay feigning unconsciousness and declared, "I'll interrogate them later. Anyone caught lying won't live to see another day!"

It was clear to Solvarg that the scavenger leader, who could pretend death so convincingly, was particularly cunning. He wasn't about to take the scavenger leader's words at face value.

"Understood, understood," the scavenger leader, hidden behind a mask with his face obscured, trembled visibly.

"First question: where exactly are we?" Solvarg couldn't shake the feeling that he had been here before, but the place remained elusive in his memory.

"Sir, this is Sakar. It's on the edge between what is known and what is unknown. It's a forsaken, forgotten land ruled by a warlord fond of arena battles. He commands quite the army of fighters..."

The scavenger leader, recognizing Solvarg's unfamiliarity with Sakar, shared all he knew about the place.

"So this is it? Do all those who fall from the Bifrost end up here in Sakar?"

Solvarg rubbed his temples but didn't dwell on it too long. His priority was finding a way out of Sakar.

In this time-distorted world, where a single year inside equaled who knows how long outside, time was of the essence. He didn't intend to linger in Sakar for long, fearing it would be too late when he ventured out, and by then, Frigga might have died, and Ragnarok might have occurred. He urgently needed to escape this nightmarish realm.

"Heimdall? Heimdall?" When it came to swift transportation, nothing rivaled the Bifrost except perhaps the Space Gem.

Solvarg bellowed Heimdall's name but received no answer. With a resigned shake of his head, Solvarg wasn't surprised. Sakar was a place where time twisted and the flow differed across the nine realms of the universe.

If Heimdall possessed the strength to bridge time's barriers and employ the Bifrost to rescue Solvarg from Sakar, he would have already done so.

"Your Majesty? Your Majesty?" The scavenger leader studied Solvarg intently, pondering deeply upon hearing his words.

Solvarg mused over this development; meanwhile, the scavenger leader remained subdued beneath Solvarg's feet, his strength seemingly amplifying with each passing moment. He had no desire to be inadvertently crushed by Solvarg.

"How do I depart from this place?" Solvarg inquired calmly, glancing down at the quivering scavenger leader, exerting subtle pressure with his foot.

"My lord, my lord, no soul has ever escaped Sakar! It is a realm of oblivion and banishment, the crossroads between the known and unknown. No one can depart from Sakar..." The scavenger leader cried out in anguish, his tone tinged with despair.

No one willingly remained in this spectral realm except a fool, yet there had been no tales of anyone leaving.

"Are you absolutely certain?" Solvarg reiterated, applying a bit more pressure with his foot.

"Ah, my lord," the scavenger leader exclaimed, then quickly corrected himself, "Grandmaster, Grandmaster, only the Grandmaster can get people out of this ghostly place!"

"Alright, cut the act," Solvarg shifted his feet away from the scavenger leader. "I know you're not that feeble."

The leader's unyielding demeanor and heat betrayed his facade, making Solvarg realize he was merely putting on a show.

"Has the Grandmaster ever granted someone freedom from here?" Solvarg comprehended that the Grandmaster had the capability to depart from this place, yet he preferred not to engage with the Grandmaster unless absolutely necessary. Each of those cosmic elders possessed an infinite lifespan, their existence shrouded in mystery.

To alleviate the tedium of eternity, they each adopted various pastimes. For instance, The Collector Taneleer Tivan had his Collection, and the Grandmaster hosted his Champion Fights. Though these cosmic elders might appear comical in films and television, their true power remained an enigma.

Take the Collector, seemingly easily defeated by Thanos! Thanos had long been aware that the Reality Gem resided with Taneleer, yet he prioritized the destruction of Xandar, the Nova Corps, and the acquisition of the Power Gem. He proceeded to vanquish the retreating Asgardians and secure the Space Gem. The Reality Gem acquisition took place only after that.

Progression always followed from simple to complex. Until Solvarg reached a sufficient level of strength, he preferred to avoid direct confrontation with these immensely powerful beings. There was no certainty they wouldn't suddenly turn hostile, choosing to imprison or slay him on a whim.

"I cannot say for certain, perhaps some champions have been granted freedom. However, aspiring to become one yourself is futile, utterly futile!" The scavenger leader's body quivered involuntarily at the mention of the championship, his words tinged with dread.

"That's your problem," Solvarg retorted with a sneer.

[Attention, the host has arrived at Sakar and must make a decision!]

[Choice 1: Confront the Grandmaster, plead for release.

Reward: +1 Physical Resistance, Super Speed Regeneration!]

[Choice 2: Remain on Sakar for a decade.

Reward: Friendship with the Grandmaster, Level + 1 Divine Power Upgrade!]

[Choice 3: Enter the champion fights and emerge victorious.

Reward: Cellular vitality and activity upgrade, +1 Divine Power Upgrade!]

If it had been enough to persuade the Grandmaster to leave Sakaar, then Sakaar wouldn't be filled with junkyards and scavengers. So, option one was quickly discarded by Solvarg Odinson, and option two seemed even less feasible. No one could know how long Sakaar's ten years would be in the outside world. Besides, there was only one Reincarnation Pond, and it was impossible to place it in the time-warped Sakaar.

Thus, only one choice remained.

Resolutely, Solvarg questioned the leader of the scavengers. "Tell me, what does it take to become a champion?"

"Impossible, impossible," the scavenger leader mumbled. After a swift kick from Solvarg, he changed his tone. "There are only two ways to become a champion. First, you must win a hundred consecutive victories when no champion is present."

"Second, after winning ten consecutive victories in the Bloody Arena, you earn the right to challenge for the championship. Defeat the current champion, and you become the new champion."

"Currently, the champion is the Desert Lord. Unmatched strength, unparalleled speed, and dark power—no one can defeat him. No one!"

The scavenger leader's demeanor shifted when discussing the Desert Lord; he seemed terrified of the champion fights.

"Have you ever faced him?" Solvarg asked.

The leader fell silent, then said, "I had a brother exiled here with me. In his bid for freedom, he chose to fight in the Bloody Arena. In his eighth match, he faced the Desert Lord."

"The Desert Lord tore my brother to shreds. I was cheering for him, but he was defeated. I attended every fight thereafter, hoping to see him die, but he continued to win and eventually became the champion."

"He's far too powerful," the scavenger leader said calmly, his voice devoid of emotion.

The scavenger's lifeless body slowly turned its head to face Solvarg. Solvarg then kicked the scavenger leader in the neck, ending his life. Despite the scavenger chief's brother's tragic end, it was of no concern to Solvarg. When scavengers attacked innocent people and tried to use them as food, they forfeited any chance of forgiveness.

After subduing and questioning the remaining scavengers, Solvarg gained a clearer understanding of Sakaar. He removed the armband from the scavenger leader and gathered all the remaining credit points from the armbands of the other scavengers. He ensured that all of them received a one-way ticket to the afterlife.

Solvarg then picked up the defective energy cannon with one hand and set off towards the Sakaar living quarters. With the credit points from the scavengers, he could only afford to stay in the living area for ten days. Selling the cannon would provide him with enough to remain in the living quarters for a while longer. He was tired of the stench in the junkyard.

While it is often said that one can become mere food in a dump, being able to lift an energy cannon with one hand meant there was significantly less trash to provoke him. Along the way, he dealt with some particularly troublesome trash, which increased the credit points in his armband considerably. If he managed to sell the energy cannon, the credit points gained would be enough to sustain him in the living quarters for two months.

"Hey, can you give me that energy cannon?" A battered ship halted in front of Solvarg. A woman with tied hair, a dark complexion, and strange patterns on her face, appeared to be inebriated as she staggered from the spacecraft.

This was a powerful lone scavenger with her own ship. Solvarg recognized her—she was the Valkyrie who had left after pursuing Hela.

"You should know me," Solvarg said, discarding the energy cannon. Perhaps he no longer needed it.

"We've never met," Valkyrie replied, taking a swig from a bottle. "Regardless of how you came to Sakaar, you are now mine. You should be very valuable."

"Certainly, we haven't met before, but I must be quite famous in Asgard," Solvarg responded. As the so-called 'trash prince' of Asgard, it was unlikely Valkyrie didn't know of him.

"Don't mention Asgard," Valkyrie snapped, slamming the bottle and drawing a long sword. "Come with me immediately."

"So, you plan to betray the royal family you serve? Oh, I almost forgot—I am no longer part of the Asgardian royal family. Are you planning to forcibly take me?"

Solvarg's expression shifted. Valkyrie, as one of Asgard's elite warriors, possessed at least Zyldelta-level divine power. Although she was not the commander of the Valkyrie Legion, she was still a formidable opponent.

"I said, don't talk about Asgard. All I care about now is your value!" Valkyrie's tone was resolute. In Sakaar, one needed ample credit points to enjoy any semblance of a decent life.

As soon as Valkyrie finished speaking, she struck at Solvarg with her sword. The sheer force of her attack was enough to stun Solvarg's former self.

[Notice: The host is facing Valkyrie and must make a choice!]

[Option 1: Assist the Valkyrie in overcoming her sorrow

Reward: The Valkyrie's friendship, granting access to the Soul Castle!]

[Option 2: Run away from the Valkyrie.

Rewards: +1 to Physical Resistance, +1 to Response Speed!]

[Option 3: Subdue the Valkyrie, knocking her to the ground.

Reward: Gain a Valkyrie servant and Unlock the next level of Divine Power!]

The choice was clear to Solvarg Odinson.

Solvarg swiftly dodged the Valkyrie's swipe, stepping back to create some distance between them, his eyes wary of further attacks. But the Valkyrie was relentless, pursuing Solvarg with her long sword drawn.

"I regret having to do this, Valkyrie, but I have no other choice!"

"Even as a child, I admired Valkyrie's prowess. Who wouldn't be captivated by such beauty and power?" Solvarg mused to himself. "But Valkyrie's fate might be sealed."

Solvarg continued to retreat, refusing to engage in direct combat. "They belong to a bygone era," he muttered as he backed away. The Valkyrie, undeterred, intensified her sword strikes.

"I'm sorry it has to come to this!"

Surrounded by a radiant aura, Solvarg ceased evading. He reached out, seizing the Valkyrie's arm and disarming her, driving the sword into the ground.

"Divine Power Awakening? Second-order? So, you're not as worthless as you seem. Impressive. You've just become more valuable," the Valkyrie remarked, halting her assault.

She clenched her fists, rolled her shoulders, and eyed Solvarg with an even greedier gaze.

Solvarg regarded the eager Valkyrie, sighed, and spoke resolutely, "Hela is my sister. She has always been good to me. I cannot assist you in her demise."

"My mother has always cherished me deeply, and I have a friend who believes in me wholeheartedly. They deserve to live in peace!"

"Therefore, I must leave Sakar swiftly. I aim to be the champion!"

"I aim to take you down!"

"What are you jesting about?" The Valkyrie eyed Solvarg, who seemed to be speaking nonsense, and delivered a direct punch. "Arrogance born of luck, has it inflated your ego?"

"Though we are both of the second order, the gulf between us is vast."

Solvarg parried the Valkyrie's punch with a wave of his hand, seizing the opportunity to send her flying several meters away with a swift kick. Standing tall, Solvarg's divine form shielded by the sun's power, was resilient against the Valkyrie's formidable kick.

"Let us engage!" Solvarg roared, launching forward with punches and kicks, targeting vital points without restraint.

The Valkyrie's face bore the brunt of Solvarg's punch, causing her head to reel as she spat out a mouthful of blood-tinged saliva. She retaliated with a punch to Solvarg's abdomen.

"Once more!"

Punches, kicks, a relentless exchange.

The superlative defenses of the Aesir gods enabled Solvarg and the Valkyrie to engage in a relentless duel. The landscape, once dominated by towering garbage mountains, now lay flattened into plains, a testament to the fierce battle that had ensued.

Among the onlookers were numerous scavengers, drawn by the spectacle, including some formidable solitary figures.

Solvarg gasped, his hands resting wearily on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. Across from him, the Valkyrie appeared even more worse for wear, seemingly reluctant to rise.

"Thank you. That was quite the combat lesson. But it's time to end this!"

The potent recuperative effects granted by his second-order solar power left Solvarg with reserves of strength. As the power of the sun surged forth, its radiant light burst forth violently in the junkyard, akin to a miniature sunrise amidst the debris!

The sudden brilliance blinded those who dared to gaze directly at them, including the Valkyrie. Reacting swiftly, the lone scavengers strong enough to endure shielded their eyes, only to witness Solvarg darting behind the Valkyrie in a flash.

His right hand arced down with savage force, delivering a crippling blow to the Valkyrie's neck with a palm strike. With a resounding thud, the Valkyrie crumpled to the ground, unconscious and defeated.

"Never thought No. 142 would bite the dust!"

"Who's this newcomer? He's a force to be reckoned with!"

"They oughta know better. Damn Asgardian..."

"Enough chatter. Same old deal—sell 'em to the Grandmaster, split the take. Two top-tier fighters like these are worth a fortune!"

"Let's get to it!"

Four spaceships, a mix of old and new, descended slowly before Solvarg and the fallen Valkyrie, their occupants urging the surrounding scavengers to clear out. Four lone scavengers leveled their energy cannons at Solvarg.

"Kid, thanks for taking down the 142 lush! Damn, those Asgardians are too damn sturdy!"

"Now, drop to your knees, hands behind your head. Thanks for the gift, pal. Haha!"

The scavengers cackled triumphantly, convinced that the weary Solvarg was utterly at their mercy, mere commodities to be claimed. Solvarg's head hung low and his trembling muscles betrayed exhaustion, but suddenly, something extraordinary began to unfold.

It wasn't the typical post-exertion tremor; rather, it seemed as though a radiant energy emanated from within Solvarg, transforming his very being.

The violent tremors shaking Solvarg Odinson's body did not go unnoticed by the lone scavengers.

"What happened to this kid?" one of them questioned.

"Kid, lower your head and get down!" shouted a scavenger, but Solvarg ignored him.

Seeing Solvarg's disregard, the cautious scavengers wasted no time and launched a direct attack.

"Anyway, Aesir always withstand beatings; they're not easy to kill. Let's discuss it in the last round," remarked one of them.

The energy beam streaked toward Solvarg, kicking up a cloud of dust.

In the haze, Solvarg's form gradually disappeared.

"Damn it, just lie down already," one of the scavengers cursed.

"Ha, looks like he took a hit in this round of shelling. Let's hope he's not too banged up. If he's disabled, he won't fetch a good price."

"Relax, Aesir are pretty resilient!" another scavenger reassured.

They chuckled lightly, having witnessed the earlier battle between Solvarg and the Valkyrie. Despite their formidable combat skills, neither Solvarg nor the Valkyrie had exceeded their expectations.

None of the scavengers roaming the junkyard and owning their own spaceships were weak.

As the dust settled, Solvarg's figure remained standing tall.

"How is it possible that you're still standing?" one of the scavengers exclaimed.

"Impossible! Even for an Aesir, one round of shelling should be enough to bring them down!"

"Darn it, keep attacking! Give them another round!" commanded Solvarg, his voice laced with urgency.

The lone scavengers, taken aback by the unexpected order, prepared to launch another assault on Solvarg.

Suddenly, Solvarg jerked his head up, his eyes gleaming with a brilliant golden light.

With a wide grin, he addressed the scavengers, "Behold, the dawn of the Sun!"

The revelation of Solvarg's Vorsigma power astonished one of the more knowledgeable scavengers, evident from the startled expression upon seeing Solvarg's eyes ablaze with golden radiance. Vorsigma power was prestigious, commanding respect across the cosmos. It could elevate one to the status of a champion, even in the realm of Sakar.

"Escape!" yelled the lone scavenger, swiftly initiating the spacecraft's engines, ready to flee. He wasn't inclined to risk his life for the sake of others among the scavengers.

Understanding the importance of scattering to prolong their survival, the remaining scavengers wasted no time and initiated their spacecraft for a rapid dispersal.

However, their efforts proved futile as Solvarg's attack was relentless.

Solvarg's assault wasn't a single strike; it was a barrage of fiery solar beams descending from the sky, reducing all four spacecraft to ash within moments, the intense heat leaving nothing behind.

"Decent temperature, but it lacks the true might of the sun!" Solvarg remarked, observing the vaporized vessels with satisfaction.

He knew that to unleash the full force of the sun's power, he needed to ascend to the Aelitum power level. After all, the sun's core temperature soared to 15 million degrees, capable of obliterating entire planets in a single solar eruption.

"A lamentable waste. Think of the wine I could've bought with those!" lamented the Valkyrie, awakening from her stupor, witnessing the destruction of the ships and their crew.

"In the future, abstain from drinking on my behalf!" Solvarg chided the Valkyrie, using the power of the sun to mend her wounds.

"After all, Valkyrie is now his slave."

"As ordered, Your Majesty," the Valkyrie saluted and replied respectfully.

"Let's brighten things up a bit, it's too dim in here!"

"Understood, Your Majesty."

...

The last Valkyrie went by the name of Brunnhilde. She piloted the spaceship into the living area of Sakar.

The first sight that greeted them was a vibrant and bustling scene. Scores of residents sang and danced in the streets, celebrating the Desert Lord, the sheep-headed demon. They rejoiced, commemorating another day in the desert where the Desert Lord had vanquished yet another challenger who dared to oppose them, securing their fortune.

In Sakar's living area, aside from those employed by the Grandmaster, most residents were either fighters or gamblers. The outcome of the arena battles dictated the flow of the massive gambling table. Each day, countless individuals either amassed wealth or plummeted into bankruptcy due to gambling. Subsequently, they either faced expulsion from their living quarters to become scavengers of food and waste, or they were auctioned off as slaves to become arena fighters, subjected to the whims of life and death.

Behind Sakar's facade of apparent prosperity, countless shadows lurked.

But Solvarg harbored no intentions of dismantling it. This was Sakar, a realm of oblivion and exile. The universe teemed with myriad shadows; civilization had always been ruthless, something Solvarg couldn't rectify. From the outset, Asgard too had ascended to the zenith of the Nine Realms on the backs of countless civilizations' blood and tears.

"I wish to enlist and partake in the bloodshed," Solvarg declared to the arena overseer as he arrived at the arena.

"Hey, come over and stamp your mark. We're recording a video for the first match tomorrow morning," the arena director said, glancing briefly at Solvarg Odinson before continuing with the registration.

Every day, contenders stepped into the arena for fierce battles where survival was never guaranteed.

"Hey, fresh meat?" the others around chuckled.

"Is he new to Sakar? Still dreaming of glory? Hoping to be a champion?" jeered a fighter, his face bruised but his physique robust.

"Haha, maybe he just wants to rake in the cash!"

Victory in these brutal fights came with hefty rewards.

"Trying to earn your keep, huh? Haha," the fighters erupted in laughter.

Until a fighter with a broken hand spoke dispassionately, "Who among us isn't risking it all to survive?"

The laughter immediately hushed, and the mood turned somber.

Arena combat typically fell into two categories: Normal Fights and Bloodbaths.

Normal fights were about victories and defeats, though broken bones or the occasional fatality weren't unheard of. But in bloodbaths, survival often meant being the last one standing. Survive until the end, and claim the title of champion.

Thanks to his Vorsigma power level, Solvarg found the bloodbaths almost effortless. He swiftly notched up nine consecutive wins, needing just one more victory in tomorrow's tenth match to challenge for the championship.

"Your Majesty, tomorrow's opponent won't be a walk in the park, so please tread carefully," Valina cautioned Solvarg, sipping wine she couldn't have dreamt of affording before her stroke of luck at the betting table.

"I highly doubt anyone in this arena poses a real threat besides the Desert Lord," Solvarg responded, a hint of suspicion lacing his words.

Valina, who had amassed a fortune through her astute betting, took a cautious tone. "There might be one contender—a two-headed ogre. He's formidable, likely new to Sakar and eager to make a name before moving on."

Having meticulously studied each of Solvarg's adversaries, Valina was devoted to his safety, willing to sacrifice anything to ensure it.

"A two-headed ogre?" Solvarg mused, glancing toward the towering Champion Building erected by the Tiffany Group, adorned with thirteen heads representing past champions. "I recall hearing about an ogre slated for the top spot. Could it be him?"

Taking a sip from his glass, Solvarg reassured Valina, "Fear not. You know we're divine beings, and I, the sun god."

As an Asgardian boasting Vorsigma power, Solvarg believed in his strength.

The following day, the arena erupted in a violent spectacle as the bloodshed commenced.

Valina, having wagered her entire fortune on Solvarg's victory, sat nervously among the spectators.

"Ogre! Ogre! Ogre!" The crowd's thunderous cheers echoed for the formidable opponent.

Only a smattering of onlookers voiced support for the sun god.

Standing at a towering five meters, clad in impenetrable iron armor, wielding a mammoth two-meter mace, the ogre exuded undeniable power. Meanwhile, Solvarg, a mere two meters tall, had never resorted to flashy theatrics in his previous nine battles. In contrast, the Ogre had a much larger audience backing compared to Solvarg.

"Break his bones!"

"Tear him apart!"

"Eat, eat!"

Ogre and Solvarg entered the arena.

The supporters of Ogre were getting restless.

"Do you think that toothpick will do anything to me?" the ogre taunted.

Solvarg gripped his one-handed sword tightly, lacking a shield against the ogre's massive mace, rendering the arena's shield useless. To the ogre, Solvarg's sword probably seemed no more than a toothpick.

"I'll devour you! Little man, you are a tasty snack," the ogre swung his mace provocatively but hesitated to attack immediately.

As an Asgardian, Solvarg's very blood contained potent energy.

"We will see...," Solvarg remarked as he circled the ogre, searching for any vulnerabilities.

He sensed the ogre's formidable strength, akin to that of a Vorsigma power level.

"Come on!"

"Crush him, crush him!"

The crowd went wild. Both Solvarg and the ogre cautiously squared off, feeling the tension, but the crowd grew impatient.

"Today's a special day indeed, with two promising contenders. Maybe one of them will emerge as the new champion," The Grandmaster sat atop the high platform, gleefully observing the clash between Solvarg and the ogre in the arena.

"Coward! Coward!"

"Let's go, Ogre!"

"Get him, tear him apart!"

The audience's impatience mounted.

"No, I must intervene, but I can't keep the audience waiting any longer! Let the spectacle begin!"

The master produced a controller and pressed a button, causing a small device on the ogre's neck to emit a faint electric current. The ogre trembled slightly, knowing that the master was growing impatient. He had become an outcast after accidentally consuming numerous friends and family while intoxicated at a banquet. Banished forever by his tribe, he had become the master's slave fighter.

With a roar, the two-headed ogre abandoned caution and charged toward Solvarg.

Boom, boom, boom, the thunderous footsteps of the colossal creature reverberated throughout the arena.

And thus, the battle commenced!

The two-headed ogre might appear bulky, but his tall frame granted him surprising speed. Within just a few strides, he loomed over Solvarg Odinson.

Gripping his massive mace tightly, the ogre swung it towards Solvarg. Despite Solvarg's comparable strength, he had no intention of engaging in unnecessary combat. With a quick sidestep, he allowed the mace to crash into the ground, sending dust billowing around.

In one swift motion, Solvarg drew his sword and thrust it directly at the ogre's thigh. The blade struck the ogre's leg armor with a loud clang, leaving a mark.

"I figured this armor would be tough!" Solvarg exclaimed, not missing a beat. He began to circle rapidly around the ogre, continuously swinging his longsword.

The air crackled with each clash, and the ogre's mace swung faster and faster. Sounds of tearing air and roaring mixed with flying dust, turning Solvarg and the ogre into a blur.

With a final resounding clang, the smoke began to clear, revealing Solvarg and the ogre standing opposite each other.

"Damn it," Solvarg muttered, frustration etched on his face as the one-handed sword in his hand crumbled into pieces. The ogre's iron armor clattered to the ground, marred with countless scratches.

"This arena's gear is garbage!" Solvarg exclaimed, tossing aside the useless hilt. He clenched his fist, signaling for the ogre, still wielding its massive mace, to come at him.

The crowd in the arena erupted into cheers, chanting, "Ogre, ogre, ogre!" They believed that the unarmed, slender Solvarg stood no chance against the towering ogre with its thick hide and lethal mace.

But the ogre, panting heavily, held a steely gaze. It knew the real battle had just begun.

Without hesitation, the ogre advanced. The shattered armor had compromised its defense but also granted newfound agility. The mace blurred into a flurry of strikes, yet Solvarg evaded each one with lightning speed.

Solvarg was quicker than the ogre. Dodge, punch, dodge, kick—he relentlessly targeted the ogre's left leg. Each blow resounded like leather meeting leather.

Though the ogre's defense was formidable, a sudden crack revealed its pace to be sluggish. Solvarg had shattered the bones in its left leg.

Undeterred, the ogre limped forward, still launching attacks, though more slowly. The arena audience gasped, and the once-confident gamblers who had bet on the ogre now cursed or wept.

But those who supported Solvarg cheered loudly, sensing victory.

"You're strong, but I must claim victory!" Solvarg declared, a hint of relief in his voice.

Victory and defeat—the age-old struggle.

With renewed vigor, Solvarg surged forward. Instead of targeting the ogre's thighs, he struck at its spine from behind.

As long as the spine is broken, the ogre will...

The thumping continued, and the ogre's roar grew more intense. Its mace swung wildly, but its injured left leg could not hinder Solvarg behind it.

Solvarg began to slow slightly, intensifying his attacks, aiming to end the fight quickly.

With a thud, Solvarg struck hard, causing the ogre to stagger, appearing unsteady. Solvarg struck again, but then noticed the ogre's heads twisting, both heads fixating on him.

Suddenly, a violent blast of cold air gushed from the ogre's mouths, threatening to freeze Solvarg solid. Despite appearing exhausted, the ogre swiftly discarded its mace and lunged forward, seizing the frost-covered Solvarg.

"You didn't expect my strongest strength is magic, did you? I'll be the champion!" one head sneered while the other grinned.

Preparing to devour Solvarg, the ogre tightened its grip.

"Sorry, but magic is also my forte!"

Wrapped in frost, Solvarg emitted intense heat from within the ogre's grasp. The frost turned to scalding steam, scorching the ogre's right hand.

"Hot, hot, hot!" The ogre released Solvarg, cooling its hand with icy breath.

As Solvarg stood, the frost melting away, he declared, "It's over!"

A formidable energy gathered, descending from the sky—Solar Flare.

The ogre exhaled frost, attempting to resist the sun's onslaught, but frost stood no chance against the sun's power. Suppressed, the ogre struggled as Solvarg showered it with the sun's rays, blistering its heads with searing heat.

With a final desperate roar, the ogre slowly melted away. Only charred bones remained

The ogre broke free and attempted to vanquish Solvarg Odinson, but Solvarg showcased his might and utterly crushed it. The rare and breathtaking duel left the entire arena audience momentarily stunned, followed by an earth-shaking roar of approval.

"Sun God, Sun God!" the chant erupted.

Brunnhilde grinned, popping open another bottle of the finest wine, her heart at ease knowing she had once again raked in a hefty sum of money. Among the spectators, the fighter bearing scars from their previous jests about Solvarg observed with a complex expression. Understanding the strength of potential adversaries was crucial.

"Perhaps he could truly become a champion," the Scarface Fighter mused, contemplating purchasing a fight ticket for the next bout.

"What a magnificent fight!" the master exclaimed, applauding enthusiastically with a beaming face. "I have a strong liking for him; he could be our next champion!"

"You said the same about the Ogre yesterday," Topaz remarked coolly by the master's side.

"Did I? You must be mistaken, surely!" the master replied, winking at Topaz, who sighed and chose not to argue.

...

After securing ten consecutive victories in the brutal arena, Solvarg had earned the right to challenge for the championship. Without hesitation, he applied directly for the title bout.

The championship battle was set for the following day!

Meanwhile, throughout Sakar, at the Grandmaster's command, there was a huge buzz about the fight, with claims that it was a rare true championship showdown.

"Grandmaster, this is going to be fun!" Solvarg exclaimed eagerly.

The clash of champions went ahead as planned.

Before the game, nobody dared to interfere with Solvarg; everything was orchestrated by the Grandmaster.

"Sun God, Sun God!" "Champ, champ, champ!"

Solvarg had garnered even more supporters than before, his display of exceptional strength in battling the ogres earning him widespread admiration. However, compared to the seasoned champion, Desert Lord, his supporters seemed to have been dealt a harsh blow!

Solvarg waved from the arena, acknowledging Brunnhilde among the spectators!

Brunnhilde, enjoying Sakar's finest wine, cheered for Solvarg with gusto, opting not to leave her seat until Solvarg clinched the championship.

The Grandmaster, perched on the high platform, observed the pair's jubilant interaction with delight!

Taking the microphone eagerly, he addressed the crowd, "I can assure you all, this is bound to be an exhilarating bout!"

"This is the epitome of a championship fight!"

"I'm thrilled beyond words!"

"Let the battle commence, may the best fighter prevail!"

"Ah ah ah ah ah....."

The entire arena erupted into frenzy, signaling the commencement of the showdown between Solvarg and the Desert Lord!

The Desert Lord, a formidable demon with the visage of a sheep, charged at Solvarg immediately upon the Grandmaster's announcement. He was familiar with the video of Solvarg's fight against the ogre, someone who equally matched him in strength. The Desert Lord was particularly worried about Solvarg's Sunburst ability; a direct hit could prove fatal even for him!

Despite the demon's imposing stature, it was not significantly larger than Solvarg, its constantly flapping wings serving more than just ornamental purpose. Armed with scythes, the sheep-headed demon relentlessly besieged Solvarg from all angles, executing lightning-fast attacks.

Solvarg found himself surrounded by afterimages, as if besieged by a legion of demons attacking simultaneously. It was a macabre dance of death, punctuated by the clashing of weapons and the spark of metal against metal.

With only a single-handed sword proving inadequate, Solvarg opted for sturdier equipment at the outset of the battle. As the conflict escalated, the audience watched in awe, their eyes fixated on the intense spectacle unfolding in the arena.

"Is this what a championship fight looks like?" "So much power, it's unbelievable!" "Becoming a champion seems impossible, utterly impossible,"

Whispers from the audience reflected their disbelief in the face of such overwhelming prowess.

Despite his valiant efforts, Solvarg grew impatient with the relentless onslaught from the Desert Lord, whose unparalleled speed pushed Solvarg onto the defensive. Defending against such swift and incessant attacks proved a daunting task for Solvarg.

Summoning the last of his strength, Solvarg unleashed a powerful strike, forcing the sheep-headed demon to momentarily retreat, granting him a brief respite. Exhausted from the relentless assault, the Desert Lord too found himself in need of a new strategy.

The momentary lull in the battle allowed the audience to catch their breath, before erupting once again into thunderous applause, led by the Grandmaster's enthusiastic clapping.

Neither Solvarg Odinson nor the goat-headed demon showed any sign of yielding. Instead, they scrutinized each other warily.

"Foolish god, I'd love to turn your skull into a drinking bowl!" the demon taunted, brandishing his death scythe as dark energy arced toward Solvarg in a crescent shape.

"Dream on, demon scum. Your threats are as hollow as your soul. I'll crush you beneath my boot before you can even touch me. Your skull will be a trophy in my collection once I'm finished with you," Solvarg retorted, swinging his great sword imbued with the divine power of the sun, countering the crescent moon with a brilliant wave of golden energy.

The clash of light and darkness reverberated with a thunderous boom, marking the start of their epic confrontation.

The demon moved swiftly, almost teleporting, leaving numerous afterimages as he circled Solvarg. His scythe unleashed a barrage of black crescent moons, shrouding the sky in darkness in an attempt to engulf Solvarg.

Yet Solvarg stood firm, his sword moving in a dance of golden afterimages, creating a barrier that repelled the encroaching darkness.

Gods and demons clashed, light battling against darkness. Their relentless exchange of energy caused an earth-shattering collision, sending shockwaves rippling through the arena and toppling countless spectators in an instant.

The crowd rose to their feet, witnessing what seemed like a divine battle.

Amidst the chaos, applause erupted, drowning out the destruction.

"The birth of a new champion!" The Scarface Fighter muttered in disbelief, his eyes wide as he observed the spectacle.

"Sun God, don't falter! I've staked a fortune on you!" he shouted, his hope pinned on Solvarg.

Brunnhilde watched nervously, her gaze fixed on Solvarg. She had never seen the goat-headed demon display such formidable strength in any previous encounters.

Meanwhile, the Grandmaster remained unfazed, his demeanor unchanged even as the immense shockwave swept past, leaving his hairstyle untouched.

The energy shock continued to rage, seemingly relentless.

But Solvarg was determined to end the battle swiftly; he could endure this energy all day if necessary! The sooner they finished, the sooner they could leave. Solvarg intensified his assault.

The Demon summoned a dozen shadow clones. Amidst the flurry of strikes, it was difficult for Solvarg to discern the Demon's true form.

"Let's see how long you can hide, bastard!"

Solvarg's heart burned with determination as he tapped into the divine power coursing through him, channeling the might of the sun. Centering himself, he unleashed a torrent of energy, forming a colossal ring.

"Let darkness fade! Behold the Sun's Fury!"

The divine energy surged, radiating blinding light, but it wasn't merely a shockwave. All that energy coalesced within the ring, amplifying its potency.

The myriad illusions of the goat-headed demon shattered instantly, leaving only the true form battered by the sun's radiant ring.

Kneeling, the demon spat a mouthful of dark blood, which emitted an intense heat upon hitting the ground, disturbing the arena floor.

Glancing at the arena's magic circle, the demon muttered, "Had it not been for this arena, your strike wouldn't have touched me!"

The arena's confines allowed energy shocks to pass through, heightening the excitement for the spectators.

But within the arena, escape was impossible unless one's strength rivaled the master's.

Solvarg remained silent. This was a fight to the death, not a mere sparring match. He pressed on, unleashing the Sun's Rays, intent on finishing the demon.

Grinning, the demon manipulated dark energy, flapping its wings to evade the gathering power.

Solvarg's attacks scorched the earth, but the agile demon always managed to evade his strikes.

Once again, he summoned the sun's power, though his reserves were far from replenished.

Despite his efforts, it proved futile in causing further harm to the demon.

"Even if I'm injured, this level of power can't kill me! My demon body can withstand hell's harshest conditions!"

Hell's environment was brutal, with scorching temperatures and toxic fog being commonplace.

The goat-headed demon taunted as he dodged, his injuries slowly healing under the dark energy's warmth, his speed increasing.

Solvarg frowned, resolute.

A surge of remaining solar power erupted within him, but it had no effect. Instead, it enveloped Solvarg entirely, casting him in a radiant golden hue.

"Well, let's see how durable a demon's body really is?" Solvarg's eyes gleamed gold as he focused on the goat-headed demon.

Empowered by divine energy, Solvarg's strength and speed surged within a short span.

The goat-headed demon, still recovering from injuries, found himself temporarily outmatched in speed by Solvarg's divine power explosion.

Golden light flashed as Solvarg relentlessly struck, the goat-headed demon resembling a punching bag, black blood spilling from his mouth.

"It's futile! You can't kill me; my demon body won't perish so easily! When your energy burst subsides, we'll clash again!" Despite his struggles, the demon remained defiant as the golden aura surrounding Solvarg began to wane.

He was correct; with Solvarg's current strength, dispatching demons quickly proved challenging. Neither Solvarg nor the demons were easy adversaries.

A glint of determination flashed in Solvarg's eyes as he silently resolved, "It can only be done this way!"

Solvarg Odinson pushed his limits, using the last of his strength. Swiftly evading, he maneuvered behind the demon with a sheep's head. With a firm grip, he seized the demon's arms and delivered a powerful kick to the waist of the goat-headed creature.

The force of Solvarg's kick sent the goat-headed demon lurching forward, its arms flailing back as it dropped to one knee. Sensing impending danger, the sheep-headed demon whipped its head around, eyes wide with terror. "What are you planning?" it cried out to Solvarg.

"I intend to test which of us can last longer," Solvarg declared resolutely.

Channeling the divine power he had stored, Solvarg invoked the might of the sun. A formidable energy gathered, and flames descended from above—Solar Flare—targeting him directly.

The sheep-headed demon struggled against its injuries, unable to break free, forced to brace against the onslaught of solar power alongside Solvarg.

Solvarg gritted his teeth as the third-tier divine power proved insufficient to shield him completely from the Sun's wrath. His skin flushed crimson under the intense heat, and golden droplets of blood trickled from his wounds.

In an instant, the blood evaporated, leaving Solvarg in pain, while the sheep-headed demon fell silent, its voice extinguished like a snuffed candle. Starting with its wings and continuing down to its very core, the demon was gradually consumed by the searing power of the sun until nothing remained but a wisp of black aura, dispersed by the wind.

"Indeed, not even the ashes remain," Solvarg remarked solemnly, retracting the solar onslaught. His body bore the marks of his ordeal, cracked and scorched like burnt stone, a testament to his severe injuries. Yet, despite the pain, Solvarg stood tall in the arena, raising his battered hands in triumph to acknowledge the Grandmaster.

A hushed silence enveloped the crowd momentarily before erupting into thunderous cheers.

"Champion! Champion!"

"Praise the Sun God!"

Even the typically stoic Scarface fighter couldn't contain his excitement, cheering along with the rest, whether in celebration of the new champion or his newfound riches.

Valina paid her respects to the Grandmaster, with a constant wave of her left hand.

The Grandmaster, on the other hand, didn't pause, continuing to pour fine wine into his mouth.

"The championship bout just now was so intense, I barely had a chance to take a sip," he remarked. "If you don't indulge now, you'll miss out on the exquisite Zacate wine later," he advised Valina.

The Grandmaster's attention shifted to Solvarg, who greeted him. In a burst of excitement, he leaped up, applauding vigorously while shouting, "Marvelous! Absolutely marvelous! I'm thrilled to witness the birth of our new champion!"

"Let's get moving," he urged. "We need to commission a portrait of our new champion immediately, and we'll add an extra level to the champion building."

"Contact the Tiffany Group right away," he instructed. "I can't wait to see our champion standing tall!"

With a dance-like motion, the master directed his subordinates. Then, as if remembering something important, he added, "Send someone quickly to tend to our champion's wounds. We can't have our champion injured after such a victory!"

As Solvarg listened to the master's words about the new champion, he felt as if he was being drawn into the heart of the sun. But instead of scorching heat, it was a gentle warmth, like soaking in a hot spring, instantly washing away his exhaustion.

A faint golden aura emanated from Solvarg's body, swiftly traversing his entire being. It was fleeting, yet the sun in the sky seemed to mirror the same subtle glow.

The silent ascension to fourth-order divine power was a testament to Solvarg's promotion.

Paramedics rushed onto the field to attend to Solvarg's injuries, but he waved them off, shaking his head.

"No need," he assured them.

Using his divine power, Solvarg's entire body shed its red dead skin with a piercing screech. Before the discarded skin could even hit the ground, it was incinerated into ashes by the sudden emergence of a subtle golden flame. Thanks to the heightened cell activity and the nourishment from the fourth-order solar power, Solvarg's injuries swiftly began to heal.

With the battle concluded, Solvarg wasted no time basking in the cheers of the audience. Instead, he swiftly exited the arena, maneuvering through the bustling crowd, and beckoned for Roar to follow him to Valina, where he was to meet the Grandmaster.

While not everyone could easily secure an audience with the Grandmaster, the Champion Warrior was an exception to this rule.

"Why, my finest champion fighter, are you in such a rush to see me that you bypass the honors awaiting you?" The Grandmaster greeted Solvarg with an exaggerated smile.

"Didn't you claim last time that the Desert Lord was your top champion fighter?" Topaz couldn't resist revealing the master's falsehood once more.

The Grandmaster awkwardly winked at Solvarg, who, lacking both the mood and the time to indulge the Grandmaster's antics, cut straight to the chase. "I need a sturdy spaceship to leave this place. Can you arrange that for me?"

The Grandmaster's expression momentarily soured, but he quickly plastered on another exaggerated smile. "Well, my champion, if that's your wish, I see no reason to deny you! After all, I am the most scrupulous adherent to the rules of the game!"

"However, I must ask, why are you in such a hurry to depart Sakado? As champion, you're entitled to savor all the delights this realm has to offer!"

Indeed, the Grandmaster upheld the rules of the game faithfully, ensuring that the champion could safely depart Sakado. But as for remaining in Sakado and continuing his championship reign? Aside from individuals like the sheep-headed demons who had been banished to this forsaken place, forgotten by the world, and reveled in bloodshed and violence, no one desired to linger in the brutal and chaotic realm of the Time Warp.

"Thank you for your kindness, but I still hope to leave this place as soon as possible," Solvarg Odinson said politely, believing in showing respect to those who are powerful.

"Okay, okay," the Grandmaster said, feigning a dramatic gesture of wiping away tears. "You are the finest champion. I really miss you so much!"

"You two have only met once!" Topaz interrupted, always quick to expose the Grandmaster's exaggerations.

Perhaps the Grandmaster enjoyed the banter?

"Some people can become best friends even after just one meeting," he said with a wink at Solvarg, clearly finding the situation amusing.

"However, only the champion can negotiate leaving Sakar."

"The rules of Sakar dictate that only the champion can make such an offer to leave," the Grandmaster clarified.

Looking at Brunnhilde behind Solvarg, the Grandmaster made a jest. Solvarg paused for a moment and then, using his divine power, displayed the strength of a fourth-order Aesir without hesitation.

"We're the best of friends. Shouldn't friends get a little preferential treatment?" Solvarg's eyes sparkled with a golden flame as he spoke with a smile.

Had Solvarg still been at Tier 3, he might have hesitated. But now, having ascended to Tier 4 as the champion and receiving the System's reward, he wielded the might of a cosmic overlord. Even the Grandmaster, an elder of the universe, was not much stronger than him now.

Furthermore, since Brunnhilde had become Solvarg's slave, everything revolved around him, making him the sole master. Throughout the fierce arena battles, Solvarg had received numerous reminders and assistance.

Confident and powerful, he was determined to rescue Brunnhilde.

The Grandmaster sensed the power of the fourth-order Aesir. His eyebrows, which had been twitching, settled into a calm expression. The mischievous glint in his eyes turned to tranquility as he smiled and said, "Absolutely, we're best buddies!"

"Indeed, if you have other friends as remarkable as yourself, do introduce them to me. Trust me, we'll get along famously!" Solvarg replied.

"Sure, buddy."

Anyone wielding the might of a cosmic overlord was someone the Grandmaster did not mind befriending. This time, Topaz stayed silent.

The Grandmaster personally selected the sturdiest spaceships, filling them with luxury and rare items, including batches of fine Sakar wines.

He then escorted Solvarg and Brunnhilde to the vast array of wormholes.

"My dear friend, remember to visit me when you can. I'll miss you terribly," the Grandmaster lamented, genuine sorrow visible on his face.

Solvarg agreed nonchalantly, fully aware of the time dilation between Sakar and the outer universe, uncertain of how many years might pass out there.

He bid farewell to the Grandmaster and had Brunnhilde pilot the spaceship straight into the colossal wormhole known as the Devil's Mouth!

It exerted immense pressure, obliterating any ordinary spaceships or beings below the equivalent of Tier 3 Aesir upon entry, reducing them to mere fragments.

The spaceship provided by the Grandmaster was sturdy, and Solvarg was resolute. After navigating through a field of spaceship debris, he finally emerged back into the normal universe.

In the Strange Void, Solvarg retrieved the rewards he had chosen before his self-exile from Asgard: the Star Chart and the Reincarnation Pool.

The Star Chart pinpointed the coordinates of most planets in the universe and the locations of wormhole teleportation points.

As for the Reincarnation Pool, Solvarg was less familiar with it. Now back in the universe with regular time flow, he needed to find a suitable place for the pool.

"Finally made it here," Solvarg remarked as he studied the star map, realizing he was at the edge of the Milky Way with no major civilizations nearby.

With his location confirmed, Solvarg did not rush into action. Unsure of the current time in the universe, he lacked a clear destination.

To determine the current cosmic time in this desolate area, there was a simple and quick method.

"Heimdall! Heimdall!"

In the normal universe, Heimdall's gaze met Solvarg's after he relinquished the shield.

"Solvarg? By the gods, it's a relief to see you're still alive! You won't believe what's been happening..."

Heimdall was visibly excited, his demeanor shifting from stoic to chatty, like an old friend catching up after a long silence.

Solvarg listened patiently, realizing Heimdall was eager to share all the gossip from across the Nine Realms, from scandalous affairs to civilizations collapsing due to taboos.

It seemed Heimdall had been holding onto these tidbits for too long, and finding Solvarg was his chance to unload it all.

Unable to bear it any longer, Solvarg interrupted Heimdall's ramblings, instructing him to discreetly inform Frigga of his safety before ending the call. Once she knew, Odin would be informed as well.

Solvarg then initiated the spaceship's launch, setting a course for a destination worth exploring in the current time period.

As for using Bifrost for a swift return to Asgard?

For now, Solvarg decided against it. He had no desire to revisit Asgard, where painful memories of his sister's imprisonment and Odin's actions still lingered.

The year was 1995, a period of relative peace on Earth, but for Solvarg Odinson, time operated differently in Sakar.

"Sakar's time is a real puzzle," Solvarg mused to himself. "It's as if time has a mind of its own there." He recalled Loki and Thor's journey through the Bifrost, where what felt like mere moments had stretched into weeks upon their arrival in Sakar. The discrepancy was astounding – time there was nearly 180,000 times slower compared to the outside universe.

"It's like time's playing tricks on us," Solvarg muttered, trying to make sense of it.

The flow of time in Sakar, he realized, was like a sluggish river compared to the swift currents of the outside world. The debris from wormholes further complicated things, causing time to slow even more.

Solvarg remembered his own experience. When he emerged from Sakar, expecting only a short passage of time, he was stunned to find that a millennium had passed.

"A thousand years gone in the blink of an eye," he sighed, feeling the weight of lost time pressing down on him.

With a heavy heart, Solvarg confirmed the current time on Earth and wasted no time setting course for his home planet. After more than ten days of continuous space travel, he finally arrived on Earth. There, he noticed a spaceship hovering discreetly in Earth's orbit.

Inside the spaceship were a group of elderly and weakened Skrulls who had defected from the Kree scientist, Tivan. Among their possessions was a hidden treasure – the Tesseract, one of the six Infinity Gems, also known as the Space Gem.

Securing the Space Gem could potentially prevent many future disasters from unfolding.

Arriving on Earth in early 1995, Solvarg found himself with ample time. He decided to explore Earth with Brunnhilde, indulging in some of the rare cuisines that were difficult to find in Asgard.

His relationship with Brunnhilde had evolved beyond that of master and servant. Despite Asgard's superior technology and magic, Earth still held onto its medieval traditions in culinary and lifestyle aspects.

Aside from enjoying his time, Solvarg kept a discreet watch on Nick Fury. From the shadows, he observed without intervening or offering assistance.

To Solvarg, Nick Fury and even the entirety of S.H.I.E.L.D. seemed relatively insignificant.

He was determined to pinpoint the exact moment when Carol Danvers arrived on Earth. Tracking Carol's coordinates was crucial for his mission.

Solvarg had scanned beyond Earth's orbit, but the Skrulls aboard the spacecraft might be overly compliant, or the Kree vessel might possess advanced cloaking technology. Despite his careful search and efforts to avoid detection, the spaceship remained elusive. All that was reported were rumors of an unidentified flying object orbiting Earth for days.

Finally, Carol descended from the sky.

Solvarg and Brunnhilde, standing outside a video store, used light refraction to conceal their presence as they observed Nick Fury's interaction with Carol. The stage was set.

"Can you believe the power that woman possesses?" Solvarg said to Brunnhilde, his expression a mix of admiration and intrigue. Carol, now infused with the power of the Space Gem, seemed to be intimately connected with its vast capabilities.

The Space Gem's power flowed through her seamlessly, granting her abilities that could rival or even surpass Thanos without the Gem.

At her peak, her power could be likened to that of a cosmic overlord, evoking awe across the universe. Yet, in a weakened state, she could be as vulnerable as Thor without his full strength.

Breaking down the fourth level into specific tiers, a weaponless Thor would be a weak fourth-order, whereas wielding Mjölnir or Stormbreaker would elevate him to a standard Tier 4 combatant.

Throughout the universe, various artifacts could similarly enhance combat prowess. Laufey, the King of Jotunheim, wielded the Ice Crate, granting him strength comparable to Odin's.

Solvarg himself had recently attained Tier 4 divine power, now capable of harnessing solar energy—a testament to his growth and potential. However, he knew he needed more time to master his new abilities.

Hela, recently liberated from imprisonment, demonstrated formidable fourth-order combat prowess, making her a rare force in the universe.

Even Thanos, deprived of his Gems, retained his fourth-order combat prowess.

This was why he was known as the Mad Titan—capable of bending the major empires to his will, ruling over the cosmos, and ruthlessly eradicating half the populations of countless civilizations.

Carol, now freed from constraints including the Ancient One who possesses the Time Gem, approached the fourth-order threshold. If she progressed further, she could be a superpower on par with the Sky Father.

It underscored the overwhelming power of the Infinity Gems.

"How is this even possible?" Brunnhilde questioned, scrutinizing Carol.

With the elite Kree Empire Space Troopers' top-tier gear—universal weaponry and space armor—how could Carol surpass Solvarg's current might?

"If Kree Empire tech could reach such heights, it wouldn't just be one of the three major empires; it would reign supreme," Solvarg explained.

"Her power doesn't come from this gear. For her, it's merely a formality!"

"The true source of her power is why I've temporarily set aside matters of the Reincarnation Pool and come to Midgard." Solvarg's tone was serious as he addressed Brunnhilde.

"No more drinking for you in the future. Your strength still needs improvement. I won't have you perish in some unknown corner down the line. Until you reach third-order divine power, no alcohol for you. Focus on your training, and I'll do everything I can to support you."

Brunnhilde, ever loyal, acknowledged his directive without question.

During their extensive journey, they may have engaged in deeds they shouldn't have, but Solvarg never wished for Brunnhilde's demise.

"Alright, I understand," Brunnhilde nodded solemnly. When Solvarg was serious, she followed his lead without hesitation.

"Have you noticed that Midgardian with the striking hair? You've been monitoring him for a while!" Brunnhilde gestured towards Nick Fury to shift Solvarg's focus.

By now, the Skrulls had launched their attack on Carol.

"He'll end up bald with a missing eye one day," Solvarg said with a hint of irony.

He wondered why the Ancient One, the Sorcerer Supreme, hadn't appeared before him upon his arrival on Earth.