Odin's arrival this time was twofold: to avoid any unforeseen complications and act swiftly should anything go awry, and to witness the beginning of Thor's journey toward the throne. If Thor could secure this victory, it would be a perfect opportunity to publicly crown him, solidifying his path as the next King of Asgard. Odin was also curious about Aaron, the "Son of Heroes," and how he had earned the admiration of both Frigga and Irene.
"Heimdall, what's been happening here?" Odin asked.
Heimdall, typically a man of few words, quickly relayed the situation. "They've made a bet, my King."
Odin's gaze sharpened. "Who do you think will win?"
"Definitely Thor," Heimdall answered without hesitation. "He's the most valiant warrior in Asgard, and he's inherited your strength perfectly. No one can defeat him except for you."
Heimdall then paused, considering the rest of the participants.
"Sif and the others are about even in strength," Heimdall continued, "and Loki, being the second prince, is skilled in magic and trickery. He won't be the one to lose. As for Aaron, he's still new. He's just completed warrior training, and while his strength is good, his experience is lacking. So... I believe Aaron will be the one to lose."
Heimdall was unaware of Aaron's growing reputation as a magical genius. His duties guarding Bifrost meant he rarely left, so he hadn't heard the whispers circulating about Aaron's extraordinary abilities.
Odin, however, was more thoughtful. He agreed with Heimdall's first assessment but had reservations about the second. "If Aaron is as gifted as Frigga suggests, perhaps there will be a surprise in store. I'm eager to see just how much of a surprise it is."
Meanwhile, in Vanaheim...
Asgard had sent less than 2,000 warriors for this beheading operation. The rebels in Vanaheim were only a small faction of the Vanaheim Pantheon, and they lacked any real heavy hitters. Thor, with his godly power inherited from Odin, was more than enough to crush the opposition. Odin was confident that Thor would bring back a victory, so long as nothing unexpected occurred.
But as the Asgardian forces approached the rebel camp, things didn't go quite as planned.
While the rebels scrambled, panicked at the sight of the approaching Asgardians, it wasn't Thor or Sif who struck first—it was Aaron.
From a distance, Aaron raised his hand, and in an instant, hundreds of duplicates of himself appeared. These duplicates, though slightly weaker physically, each held a sword and surged toward the enemy. They swiftly engaged in close combat with the rebel soldiers.
Aaron's physical strength might have been slightly inferior to Thor's or Sif's, but these duplicates—though magical constructs—were still formidable. With swordsmanship at level 5 and near-perfect fighting skills, they cut through the rebels with ease.
The others stood stunned.
"Aaron, you're cheating!" Thor shouted in disbelief. His path had been blocked by the numerous Aaron duplicates, preventing him from joining the fray.
Aaron's action caught Thor off guard, and by the time he snapped out of his shock, there were no enemies left in front of him. He was here to fight—not to watch a spectacle!
Sif and the others voiced their displeasure. "How can there be such a game? We came here to prove ourselves, and now it's just... gone! No warning, no chance to show off our skills, and the battlefield is already cleared!"
But just as they were about to complain further, they saw that the Aaron duplicates, having dealt with the front line, started moving to the sides, intent on wiping out the rest of the rebels.
Thor's competitive nature kicked in. "Wait! Leave the ones on the left to me!" he called out, rushing to the side.
The others could only exchange bewildered glances. Fandral gripped his sword tightly, his expression darkening.
In this "competition," he had already lost—completely. Aaron's duplicates had already wiped out a quarter of the enemies before anyone even got close. There was no way Fandral could turn the tide.
"I'll just lie down... Yeah, I'll lie down," Fandral muttered under his breath, feeling completely defeated.
But as he thought more about it, something struck him. Why did all of Aaron's duplicates fight so well? Fandral couldn't help but wonder, "Wait... Why do they all fight better than I do?"
Loki, too, began to grow uneasy. "This doesn't make sense. Why are Aaron's duplicates so strong? They shouldn't be able to fight this well... Something is wrong."
He was familiar with the concept of magical duplicates, having used them himself, and he knew that, while they could mimic the appearance of the original, they couldn't possess significant combat power. Yet, Aaron's duplicates seemed different. They were more than mere illusions—they were formidable warriors in their own right.
"Are we even learning the same magic?" Loki thought, his unease growing. "Did I mess something up? This isn't possible."