From the very start, this duel had a predetermined outcome.
Fandral would win.
At least, that's what Sif and the others believed.
Fandral was Asgard's renowned swordsmanship master. Few could match him when it came to pure skill with a blade.
On top of that, he had the advantage of age, experience, and superior physical conditioning compared to Aaron.
Logically, there should have been no suspense in this battle.
However—
Not long after the duel began, that assumption was completely shattered.
Aaron's swordplay was on par with Fandral's.
His movements were precise, his techniques dazzling.
The sheer elegance of his swordsmanship left the onlookers speechless.
For a moment, a strange thought flashed through their minds:
"Is this really Aaron?"
Thor and the others exchanged confused glances, struggling to comprehend how the fight had taken such an unexpected turn.
"Fandral, did you sneak off to meet another girl last night, or did you just get drunk on that weak Asgardian wine?" Thor teased, shouting from the sidelines.
Volstagg grinned and added his own jab. "Fandral, you used to be the greatest swordmaster in Asgard. But now? If people find out you lost to a magic apprentice in swordsmanship, the ladies will be so disappointed."
Fandral's eye twitched.
"Volstagg, shut up!" he snapped.
His momentary distraction nearly cost him—Aaron's sword almost broke through his guard.
As he refocused, a troubling thought settled in his mind.
When did Aaron's swordsmanship become this refined?
Could it be… I've been slacking off?
Fandral tried to recall the last time he dueled Aaron.
It had been a couple of months ago.
Back then, he had won easily.
Aaron was diligent, sure—but hard work alone wasn't enough to bridge the gap in swordsmanship.
Skill and talent were irreplaceable.
Yet now, despite using his full strength, Fandral found himself on the defensive.
No—he wasn't just struggling.
He was losing.
The only thing keeping him in the fight was his superior physical strength. If Aaron were just a little stronger…
The title of Asgard's Greatest Swordsman might very well change hands.
In a blur, their swords clashed again.
Fandral could feel it—Aaron was improving mid-fight.
His movements were becoming sharper.
More refined.
More dangerous.
He was going to lose.
Just as the duel reached its climax—
"Stop!"
Irene's voice rang out from the distance.
Aaron immediately halted his attack, snapping out of the exhilaration of battle.
Fandral, on the other hand, nearly collapsed in relief.
The savior had arrived.
A second later, and he would've been defeated…
Irene barely glanced at the exhausted Fandral. "Prince Thor, I need to borrow Aaron for a moment."
Before anyone could respond, she took Aaron's arm and led him away.
As they disappeared, Aaron couldn't help but reflect on the duel.
His upgraded swordsmanship had clearly made him stronger.
But there was something missing.
Even with a high skill level, raw power wasn't everything.
It was like a soldier and an elite warrior using the same weapon. The difference wasn't in the weapon itself—it was in how they used it.
If he wanted to truly master his swordsmanship, he needed more real combat experience.
And he had also noticed something else—
Fighting in real duels increased his skill proficiency much faster than simple training.
Unfortunately, he wasn't sure if the same principle applied to magic.
Aaron sighed.
Just as he and Irene left, the rest of the group turned toward Fandral, their eyes filled with suspicion.
Thor squinted. "You were holding back, weren't you?"
There was just no way Fandral had lost a sword fight to a recruit.
It would be as absurd as Thor losing a lightning battle.
Impossible.
Absolutely impossible.
Fandral let out a tired breath. He didn't even bother showing off with his usual flashy sword twirls.
"I wasn't holding back," he admitted.
Aaron's swordsmanship had surpassed his own.
If the fight had continued, he would have lost.
"Actually," Fandral added, rubbing his temple, "if Aaron were physically stronger than me, I wouldn't have lasted as long as I did."
Sigh.
"I need some time to process this. We'll drink together another day."
With that, he turned and left.
The atmosphere grew tense.
Even Volstagg didn't crack another joke.
For once, there was silence.
Except for one person—
Loki.
Loki, who had just moments ago been mocking Fandral's misfortune, suddenly found himself sympathizing.
Because he, too, had been bested by Aaron.
The difference?
Fandral had lost outright.
Loki, at least, still had magic.
"I know more magic than Aaron," Loki reminded himself. "Even if he surpassed me in illusion magic, he can't match me overall!"
Aaron was progressing at an alarming rate, but Loki still had an edge.
He refused to be outdone.
The greatest magician in the Nine Realms will be me!
Reigniting his confidence, Loki's eyes gleamed with determination.
As the group slowly dispersed, Hogan, usually the quietest, finally spoke.
"…So, what do we do now?"
Thor, still shaken by what had just happened, hesitated before answering.
"…Drink?"
He immediately regretted saying it.
The mood was not right.
Clearing his throat, he awkwardly ran a hand through his hair. "Ah—actually, I just remembered I have something important to do. You all go ahead."
Without another word, he turned and left.
One by one, the others followed suit.
Loki, however, lingered for a moment.
Then, a sly smirk crossed his lips.
He suddenly had an idea.
Turning on his heel, he strode toward the Golden Hall.
It was time to visit Frigg.
If Aaron was improving this quickly, then so would he.
Loki, the greatest magician in Asgard, was about to take his studies seriously.
For the first time in his life.
[My patreon if anyone wants to support me. pat reon.com/OGCrafter]