Night Falls
After Odin's speech, the crowd didn't stop cheering for a moment. The sound was deafening and Clark could feel the whole place trembling as the Asgardians celebrated. He felt as if he was inside the Coliseum, during the times when gladiators would face each other in ancient Rome; the difference was this place was actually way bigger and the crowd was made, mostly, of warriors who would feel just as confortable fighting down in the arena as they were cheering.
The arena was a round stadium with rows encircling around them, the floor covered in sand. The rows were high up, separated from the arena by a tall stone wall covered in runes; if Clark were to make a guess, those runes were probably there as some kind of magical barrier, to protect the crowd from eventual attacks. That was good, of course, but it did worry Clark a little bit to know it was necessary at all.
He realized soon enough that he was probably the only one in silence down there. Thor, Volstagg, Fandral and even Sif were all yelling back at the crowd, raising their weapons and hands to make them even louder. The rest of the combatants were doing that too, all of them extremely excited for the coming fights. Sif had warned him they all loved to fight, but Clark didn't think it would be that much.
Thor, laughing like a kid in Disneyland, approached him and held his shoulder.
"They will begin soon enough," he said. "First, the new fighters will face each other and the winners will eventually face us."
"So I'll fight right now?" Clark asked, controlling his anxiety.
"What? No! You are an experienced fighter, like us!"
Clark just stared at Thor.
"I never fought before, Thor! Certainly never in a tournament!"
Thor, as usual, just shook his head and laughed.
"There is a ranking, Kal! The Asgardians take this very seriously. The scribes take all the participant's feats into consideration and position him or her in the appropriate rank. Which adversaries you have beaten, which wars you fought, how you fared in previous tournaments… All that is carefully studied and measured." He smiled at Clark. "We? We are at the top!"
Clark, again, just stared.
"But why?!" he exclaimed, knowing very well he had never participated in any war.
Thor looked at him strangely.
"You defeated Zod!" he answered, opening his arms, agitated. "You bested Nam-Ek and Faora-Ul! You repelled a Kryptonian attack! Any one of those feats individually is more than most here did in millennia." Thor stopped for a second, as if considering adding something else; eventually, he muttered: "You might even be ranked higher than me…"
That was surprising, to say the least, but it was actually true, Clark thought, suddenly remembering that he had indeed defeated some powerful people not too long ago. He avoided thinking about that so much that the fact he had defeated Zod and his soldiers slipped his mind. In Clark's mind, even though he had won, the fight itself wasn't a victory, it was just him doing the right thing.
To battle loving Asgardians, however, he could see that those feats were truly impressive, even if he didn't consider them like that.
"Alright, so I'm high-ranked then," Clark began. "So the less ranked people will fight among themselves first and then eventually face us? Isn't that a little unjust? I mean, they'll get tired, maybe hurt, won't they?"
"No, no, do not worry about that!" Thor laughed. "Asgardians have a lot of stamina and we have medicine and drinks to get their energy restored. That is actually something I intended to tell you." He looked serious for a second. "Do not hold back, Kal. I know you are uncertain about fighting, but you will not cause anyone any serious injury. Asgardians are tough and we heal fast, keep that in mind. Besides, we have healers and magic that can fix anything, even dismemberment. As long as the fighter is not dead, he will be just fine and killing an Asgardian by accident is… Well, I do not think it has ever happened before."
He grabbed Clark's both shoulders.
"Do your best and let's face each other at the finals!"
As Thor had said, a few minutes later the competitors were asked to leave the middle of the arena. He followed his friends to the fighter's stands and sat down, watching as the referee – if he was really called that – opened a very long list. Still without saying anything, he walked to a small table and placed the list there.
There was a small glow and then the names of the fighters appeared flying in the arena, not differently than when Odin showed them the memory of the Dark Elves war. The holograms stayed in formation, the runes glowing in the air.
Odin got up again, the whole place becoming silent as he did that, and got closer from the arena. Without saying anything, he made a gesture with his hand; as if obeying him, the names of the contestants moved, like a cloud of angry bees, mixing themselves in the air. And with another gesture, the runes flew and hit the stone wall, burning its surface like a brand.
He finally understood what had happened: the fighters now knew their adversaries.
The referee yelled the names of the two first contestants and the crowd went crazy when the Asgardian warriors stepped in the arena, both of them holding swords and shields, both of them looking young and tense, but very much willing. Like Thor had explained, the inexperienced fought first.
Clark wondered, not for the first time, if he shouldn't be down there with them.
"Wow, that was awesome!" Volstagg yelled.
"Very well done indeed," Fandral agreed, impressed.
"He does seem to be a very skilled warrior," Sif mentioned.
"Incredible!" Thor exclaimed, punching the air.
Well, maybe they were right, but if Clark were to use a single word to describe that last fight, it would be "brutal". Maybe nauseating. The winner had struck his adversary so strongly with his mace that, instead of just breaking, the guy's leg had twisted back; the noise itself was enough to make Clark sick, but seeing the foot pointing behind was what truly shocked him.
Maybe noticing that, Thor slapped his back.
"Not to worry, Kal! Like I said, he should be fine in a moment."
Luckily, Thor was right about that. After a few piercing screams of pain, the healers managed to put his leg back in position and, a few minutes later after drinking some kind of medicine the guy was already walking again, looking glum that he had lost but nothing beyond that. He had to admit, that was pretty impressive.
Still, it was horrifying; looking up, he saw Jane by Frigga's side, pale as snow. Yep, it seemed he wasn't the only one with "Midgardian sensibilities" here.
Thor was correct about no one dying, but since the battles were fought until one of the combatants couldn't go on or until surrender, the level of injuries was high. Nothing as gruesome as what he had just seen, but more than enough to kill a human with ease. Even so, Clark had to admit that those people did know how to fight and supposedly they were the inexperienced fighters in the tournament.
"I think that was the last of them!" Sif said, so excited she actually punched Clark's leg. "Our fights shouldn't take long now."
And as soon as she said that, the referee – or better yet, because Sif corrected him with a laugh when he said that, the Arena Master – asked for silence. He allowed the silence to go on for a second, building the suspense, and then he pointed to the names of the fighters on the wall.
"The new blood has been tested," he began and the crowd was hanging on his every word. "But now it is the time to see how they fare against the true champions!"
The crowd couldn't resist anymore and went wild, making the whole place tremble once again. The Arena Master waited for they to calm down a bit, then continued.
"Next fight: Hakon VS Sif!"
"YES!" Sif yelled, getting up and jumping down in the arena almost immediately.
Sif landed in the arena and ran to the center, as everybody cheered her name, none louder than Thor. Her adversary, Hakon, approached from the opposite side. The contrast between the two contestants was amazing. While Sif was a slender woman, Hakon was a huge, round man, full of muscles and fat; like a weird cross between a Viking and a sumo wrestler. It was the same warrior that had just turned his previous adversary's leg to the wrong direction with his mace. Sif looked smaller at each step she approached Hakon, the difference in sizes becoming more and more evident.
And yet, Clark could see that only one of them was afraid; it wasn't Sif.
The Arena Master gave the signal for them to prepare. Sif drew her sword, a savage grin on her face, adopting her martial stance. Hakon, already holding his big mace, lifted his arm, his face showing nothing but apprehension. The crowd was in silence, holding their breath, and Clark caught himself leaning forward in anticipation.
"FIGHT!"
Sif lunged forward. She moved so fast that Clark was sure a human wouldn't even notice, leaving behind just a cloud of dust. And in less than one second, she was already on the other side of the arena, before Hakon had the chance to even blink, much less attack. Clark could see the surprise in his eyes for a moment and then he turned, yelling, ready to raise his mace and fight.
Except there wasn't an arm to lift his weapon anymore. Hakon's arm, still gripping his mace, was being held by Sif, meters away from his rightful owner.
Clark couldn't believe in what he was seeing. Sif had just cut off the man's arm and she did it so fast that the man only noticed when he saw it being held by her. Clark didn't know if it was the shock or the pain, but he suddenly began to yell, falling to his knees, the blood finally beginning to pour.
Sif just looked at the Arena Master, one eyebrow raised.
"Victory belongs to SIF!" he finally yelled, probably too shocked to talk before.
Once again, the crowd went crazy, Thor, Fandral and Volstagg getting up to applaud her. Clark, however, was sill frozen on his seat. He did not know Sif was capable of doing that and he was kind of surprised about how easily she just crippled her adversary. But then he remembered Thor's words: Asgardians were tough. And they could heal pretty much anything. Hakon would be alright.
So, like everyone, Clark began to applaud too. His teacher had just won her first battle, after all.
Thor, Volstagg and Fandral fought after Sif, also against the "new bloods". Unsurprisingly, they also won and quite easily. Not that their adversaries weren't good; as far as Clark could see, they knew how to fight pretty well. Problem was, Thor, Volstagg and Fandral were just that good.
Like when Sif fought, it was like watching different beings battling and not two Asgardians facing each other. It wasn't just a matter of skill, it was a matter of power. Volstagg's strength was so above his adversary that Clark couldn't help but imagine he would probably have a lot of fun in a fist fight against Dr. Banner. Fandral's speed made his blade move so fast that even Clark had trouble keeping up with it sometimes. And Thor? Even without using Mjölnir, his adversaries were simply no match for him.
Thor truly was every bit the god of the legends Midgardians believed in.
How could there be so much difference between their power levels Clark didn't know. He supposed it had to do not only with training, but with their Asgardian heritage. Unlike Kryptonians, who got their powers from the sun, Asgardians had their own source of power, some kind of "Asgardian Force" that was born with them. Some had more than others, some learned to use what they had better than others and some lineages were just that blessed, like Odin's. Thor, probably, not only had been born with an amazing power, but had trained since childhood to hone it. No wonder he was one of the best warriors in all the Nine Realms.
But there were others. Like the Asgardian that was fighting right now.
Skurge, the Executioner, or so the Arena Master announced him, was a big man, even bigger than Clark. His face was impassive as he watched his much smaller adversary entering the arena, appearing more and more frightened as he approached the huge Asgardian. It really wasn't that surprising; clad in a black armor, with a shaved head and a black beard, Skurge was an intimidating figure.
Especially when the axe he was carrying was even bigger than him.
Skurge remained still like a statue, following his younger adversary with his eyes as he got closer. There wasn't any question about who was the predator and who was the prey down in the arena. In fact, seeing how afraid Skurge's adversary was, the title "Executioner" suddenly made a lot of sense.
"People can't actually be killed in these fights, right?" Clark whispered to Sif.
Sif looked at him weirdly.
"Of course people die in these fights, Kal," she answered, as if stating the obvious. "It is not common, but it can happen. The Arena Master usually intervenes before any deadly injuries and even though everyone is fighting seriously we are not fighting enemies, but fellow Asgardians, so nobody is out to kill anyone." She stopped talking for a second, staring at the arena. "Still, it does happen sometimes."
Clark did not like that one bit, but nobody was here unwilling, he supposed. It was no different than boxing back on Earth or any other fighting sport. And at least here they had the magic and the technology to heal pretty much anything, which was a lot more than they had back home.
Even with all those reassurances, Clark still had a very bad feeling.
"FIGHT!" yelled the Arena Master.
Skurge remained still even after the beginning of the fight, quite differently than his opponent's reaction. Screaming like a madman, maybe to try to raise his own courage, he attacked, fast, closing the distance between them, his shield and sword raised. Still, Skurge did not move.
Not until he was in attacking distance from his axe.
The speed Skurge's axe moved was absurd. His adversary simply had no chance to dodge, all he could do was try to raise his shield, but it just made no difference. The metal from his shield was ripped apart together with his arm. The strength of the blow tossed him up like a ragdoll, the remains of his armor cracking like glass; for one moment, it was like he stopped in the air.
And then he fell back down, heavily, already unconscious.
It was over before it started. The fallen warrior whose name Clark couldn't even remember had lost that battle before he even stepped in the arena, that was how stronger Skurge was than him. One blow, that was all it took and it was over. Or so he thought.
With a name like "Executioner", however, was it any surprise that Skurge didn't think so?
Before anyone could react, Skurge kicked his opponent, facing him up. And without any hesitation, he brought his axe down.
"Enough!"
Odin didn't yell his order, his voice was barely raised actually, but it was enough to travel all the way down to the arena. And enough to, immediately, make Skurge stop his axe, the blade an inch away from his opponent's neck.
Clark let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding.
Skurge kept his blade close from his adversary's neck for a second, then, very slowly, brought it back; an Executioner he might be, but not one crazy enough to challenge Odin. The King of Asgard kept his eye on Skurge for a few seconds, giving him a taste of how much he was displeased, then he looked at the Arena Master and nodded.
"Victory belongs to Skurge, the Executioner!"
The silence in the arena was shattered by the piercing cheer from the crowd, commemorating the brutal victory. This time, however, there were those who chose not to applaud. Clark, Thor, Sif, Fandral and Volstagg didn't even open their mouths. Odin and Frigga remained still as well. Most warriors fighting in the tournament chose not to applaud either; not because of the way Skurge had won his battle, but because of what followed.
Skurge, however, didn't seem to care one way or the other. He remained in the arena for a few seconds, not even bothering to thank the crowd or to look at his beaten adversary, as the healers carried him out. Until, suddenly, he looked up; right in Clark's direction.
He stared at the Kryptonian for a few seconds and raised his axe, pointing it at him. The crowd was in silence again.
"You are next," he promised.
Clark just raised his eyebrows, not knowing what to say, as the crowd once again began to cheer, the threat on his life somehow making the tournament even more enjoyable for them. He looked at his side, seeing Thor, Sif, Volstagg and Fandral looking at him, all of them serious.
"Kal?" Sif began, her eyes fixed on Skurge. "I will take it as a personal favor from you if you break this man in two."
"What?!"
"He is dishonorable," she continued, "and he threatened you. I am your master, so it was an indirect threat to me as well."
He could see Thor, Volstagg and Fandral rolling their eyes at the same time.
"Not everything that happens is about you, Sif," Fandral said, exasperated. "That said, I agree, do not hold your punches against that one."
"I agree!" Volstagg chortled, no doubt remembering how strong Clark could punch someone. "It will be nice to see that happening to someone else for a change!"
Thor just laughed.
"Well, you will fight him if you win your first fight," Thor finally said. "And if you want to meet me at the finals, you will have to beat him eventually. So do not dare to lose!"
Clark opened his mouth to answer, but at that moment the Arena Master yelled: "Next fight: Ogmund VS Kal-El, the Savior of Midgard!"
He was so surprised to be called that Clark actually froze for a second, just until Sif slapped his head and Thor pushed him gently. Dazed with the idea he would soon be in the middle of an arena, fighting an Asgardian, Clark walked slowly, almost as if he was on autopilot mode.
"And Kal, remember: no brawling!" Sif warned. "Try to match your strength with his and do not move faster than he can. It is about technique!"
Right, technique. Torquasm-Rao, the Kryptonian martial art he had been training for a total of three days. Well, he supposed now was the time to see if he had indeed learned something. So, still a little shocked and still uncertain about everything going on, Clark flew down to the arena, hovering for a few seconds before touching the ground.
Clark was barely listening to the crowd cheering, but he knew they were louder than any moment before. This was something new to them, to have a Kryptonian fighting in the tournament, and all eyes would be following him, Thor and Sif had told him that much. To fight against a Kryptonian was a challenge worthy of the greatest Asgardians warriors. And to actually being able to defeat one? That would be enough to make any of them legends forever.
Of course, all that happened for a simple reason: Kryptonians were powerful. So it really was no wonder that Clark's adversary looked equal parts excited and scared, eyeing Clark as if he didn't know if he should attack or just run away. He probably couldn't even tell that Clark was probably as nervous as he was.
The Arena Master approached them, also looking at Clark warily. Both contestants were in the middle of the arena, facing each other, Ogmund holding a long spear and Clark just looking at him, unarmed; obviously, to a Kryptonian, his fists were more than dangerous enough against anyone, armed or not.
The noise continued to rise, making everything shake, and the Arena Master allowed the suspense to build all over again. Clark and Ogmund were both still, staring at each other. Ogmund raised his spear, pointing it at Clark; Clark simply looked back at him, taking note of how sharp the spear's blade was. Sif had warned him, that with enough strength, Asgardian blades could hurt him.
Torquasm-Rao, however, was all about not being hit.
Breathing deeply, Clark concentrated. He allowed himself to relax, to ignore everything around, to calm himself. And just as easily as when he was training, his body assumed the proper stance: legs parted, sustaining his body weight, and arms also opened, the left one to the front and the right one to the back, both palms up.
"FIGHT!" screamed the Arena Master.
Immediately after he gave them permission, Ogmund yelled almost as loudly as him, jumping forward, his spear in a straight line against Clark's chest. He moved fast and with precision, every bit of his martial training no doubt guiding his hand. It was an attack meant to end this fight in one blow.
Even then, Clark did not move.
He could've dodged. He could've held the spear with his hand. He could've done the exact same thing Ogmund did and reached him before he had the time to open his mouth and yell. But he had made a promise to Sif and he would keep his word, otherwise all his training wouldn't have meant a thing. So he waited.
And when the spear's tip was almost touching his skinsuit Clark's body turned.
His legs remained fixed on the ground and he didn't move from his spot. However, from the waist up, Clark's body gyrated, his left arm dropping at the same time his right moved forward, guarding his body, hitting the side of the spear and changing its trajectory. It wasn't a powerful blow and it wasn't meant to be one; just enough to deflect the weapon and open Ogmund's guard.
Clark wasn't thinking anymore, he was reacting. Sif had hammered that in his head eventually. In a fight, a true fight where both opponents are equally matched, there wasn't such thing as thinking. There was simply no time for that. When your adversary's sword is falling down upon you, you shouldn't be thinking about how to defend yourself; you should be reacting. That was what training was meant for. To make your body so used to it that fighting becomes as automatic as breathing.
There was time to be smart, to be one step ahead, to plan the fight. But in close quarters, trading blows with an opponent as strong and as fast as yourself? According to Sif, thinking too much in those cases only brought you one step closer to death. At those times, honed instinct was the way to go.
So when Clark deflected the blade to his left, allowing it to pass harmless by his side, it wasn't a consciously thought strategy; it was a reaction. With one touch he avoided his adversary's attack, made his weapon useless and opened his defenses. Right now, there wasn't anything between Clark and Ogmund. And then he did what he had trained to do.
Using Ogmund's momentum against him, Clark twisted his body again, in the opposite direction, bringing his right arm back, the back of his hand clashing directly against Ogmund's throat. It wasn't a hit strong enough to kill him, but it was most definitely strong enough to cut his breath short; Ogmund was suddenly deprived of air, losing his strength, and in that moment Clark attacked again, his left palm striking the Asgardian's stomach.
The attack was brutally strong and yet carefully measured so it wouldn't send Ogmund flying back; Torquasm-Rao worked best in close quarters, after all. Thus, instead of throwing him away, Clark's focused attack made sure that the shockwaves from the blast travelled all across his adversary's body. For a single moment, Ogmund felt the power of an earthquake in his muscles, organs and bones.
And then, before the Asgardian had the chance to even try to react, Clark's upper body twisted again, bringing his right elbow against Ogmund's temple.
He fell down like his brain had just been turned off; Ogmund simply blacked out completely, losing all and any control over his body, collapsing on the arena face first. There was a sudden silence in the place, as if someone had just pressed the "mute" button. Clark didn't move, couldn't move, still in the same position he had begun the fight. Despite what he just did, he was as surprised as the crowd by what happened. He felt like a bystander in his own body; like Sif said, action and reaction.
And the fight was over before he could even realize.
The noise gradually went up, like a tsunami building strength. And like a tsunami, when it collided, it simply couldn't be ignored. The cheers of the crowd filled the arena like an explosion, becoming louder and louder at each passing second, to the point Clark's Kryptonian hearing was completely taken by it. He could feel it in his bones, reverberating his skull, shaking his very blood. Clark simply didn't know what to do; so he did what Sif did and raised his arm.
If there was something to be said about Asgardian's lungs, was that they were powerful; Clark didn't know how exactly the noise doubled its intensity, but it did. He couldn't imagine how the whole arena didn't crash down right then and there.
"By Odin's beard!" Thor yelled, jumping from his seat. "Did you see that?"
Volstagg did the same, except he used a much more colorful vocabulary. Fandral remained sitting, frozen in place, too impressed to actually say anything. And Sif? Sif was proud. That was her student down there. She had taught him to do that and he had learned it to perfection.
All around her, people were watching Kal, immensely impressed with he had just did. Even Odin, she was happy to see, had approval etched in his usually impassive expression. For the first time in history, a Kryptonian was fighting in an Asgardian tournament and Kal was making his mark.
The applauses continued for longer than usual and Kal stayed in the arena, arms raised, until his opponent had been taken by the healers; he, of course, talked with them first, no doubt questioning if he would be alright. Sif almost rolled her eyes, but he did what he had trained to do and that was enough. When he had made sure Ogmund would be fine, Kal flew back to his seat, making the Asgardians start to cheer all over again.
"Good job, Kal!" Thor yelled, getting up to shake his hand. "I knew you had it in you!"
"Well, I had a good teacher," he answered, cleared embarrassed, but smiling. "Thanks, Sif."
Sif just smiled back, as Fandral and Volstagg and every other contestant around got up to congratulate him. She would take credit where it was due, but Kal's victory was his own. There was a very long road between teaching and learning and if he had absorbed all that knowledge, it was because he had the capacity to do so in the first place.
"Next fight: Volstagg VS THOR!" yelled the Arena Master, startling everybody.
Thor and Volstagg stared at each other for a second, before laughing like crazy men. Sif grinned; now the tournament would get fun. With one last slap to his back, Thor and Volstagg left Kal on his seat and jumped to the arena together, Thor holding his hammer and Volstagg his enormous war axe.
"Say, Sif, can't Thor use Mjölnir in the tournament?" Kal asked, as Thor and Volstagg took their places in the arena.
"Anybody can use whatever weapon they wish to, but he doesn't find it very fair," Sif answered. "He wants to test his own strength and he cannot do that if he is using such a powerful weapon."
Satisfied with answer, Kal sat back to watch the start of what promised to be an incredible fight, as did Sif. It wouldn't be anything new to her – Thor and Volstagg practiced every time they could –, but this time they would be fighting with extra motivation. Still, Sif was betting it would be a quick fight; they knew each other's moves too well.
Maybe they would surprise her.
"He is going to fight again!" muttered Jane, clearly tense, as she watched Thor and his big friend, Volstagg, facing each other in the arena.
Frigga, sitting by her side, just smiled at her.
"Do not worry, neither of them are going to hurt themselves," she said and Jane knew it was true, but that didn't do anything to low her anxiousness.
She had just watched Superman fighting an Asgardian – and wouldn't Darcy love to hear that she missed that? – and that already made her edgy. Jane didn't like to see people fighting, not even back on Earth, but clearly Asgardian culture put a lot of value on that. And seeing people she cared about fighting was even worse.
Watching Clark, looking as nervous as she was, walk in the arena was already a difficult thing to do. She had come to like him very much during these days, finding in him a good friend, and seeing that friend face a god unarmed made her extremely ill; especially after seeing some of the injuries other warriors suffered.
Of course, if she told that to Darcy, she would never understand. What did the Man of Steel had to fear? But it turned out "Superman" was just a good guy after you got to know him, certainly not the unbeatable god some people on Earth thought he was. Oh, he was powerful, there was no doubt about that. But at the same time, even being bullet proof and capable of flying, Clark was normal. A journalist who happened to be a super powered alien. And from all people in Asgard at that moment, he was clearly the only one who understood just how crazy this tournament was.
And if she was feeling that anxious seeing Clark fighting, seeing Thor walk into the arena again was just plain torture.
"FIGHT!" yelled the Arena Master, snapping her out of her thoughts.
Jane watched as Thor and Volstagg ran against each other, hammer and axe raised, as the crowd cheered. Their weapons clashed with a thundering noise when they reached the middle of the arena, the power behind the blows echoing, but neither of them showed any sign of giving up.
Instead, their weapons remained joined, as the two Asgardians measured they strength, pushing each other. Jane didn't know much about fighting, but it seemed both of them had other options instead of simply doing that.
"I knew this would happen if those two fought," sighed Frigga, rolling her eyes, confirming Jane's suspicion. Odin seemed just as unamused as his wife.
"What are they doing?" Jane asked.
"They are playing," answered Odin, to her surprise.
With a loud yell, Thor pushed Volstagg with all his strength, actually moving him back on the sand, before forcing his hammer up. He did that with such power that both weapons were thrown to the sky, flying out of reach, and before they could fall back Thor punched Volstagg in the face.
Jane flinched when the noise of Thor's fist hitting Volstagg face reached her, the power behind it more than enough to kill a human several times over, but Volstagg didn't even blink; he grinned. And returned the punch in kind, the noise even louder than before.
Neither of them stepped back, defended themselves or tried to dodge. They simply… punched each other. Over and over and over again, not moving, not retreating. It was brutal and savage. And the Asgardian crowd was loving every second of it.
"Why the heck are they doing that?!" exclaimed Jane, not wanting to see that crazy punching contest, but unable to look away.
Frigga sighed again. "My son has an unusual sense of what fun is."
That explained the situation pretty well, Jane thought, seeing the smiles on their faces.
Clark watched the fight unable to close his dropped jaw.
"So, to be clear, only I can't brawl today?" he managed to finally ask.
Sif turned to look at him. "Do you actually want to do that?"
"Well, no," Clark admitted. "But it would be easier."
"Yes, 'easier', that is one way to classify that," Fandral muttered, barely holding his laugh.
Before they had the chance to continue, Thor threw an uppercut so powerful in Volstagg's chin that the big Asgardian actually left the ground. Clark flinched when he heard the noise, not wanting to imagine how painful that must've been. Volstagg was thrown to the sky, clearly dazed, but before he could fall back, Thor held his legs.
And with a move that wouldn't be out of character for the Hulk, Thor pulled Volstagg back with all his strength and smashed him in the ground.
It was ruthless. And very, very effective. Volstagg did not get up.
Thor raised his two arms and yelled to the crowd, making all of them go wild. They clearly loved their Prince and Clark could see why, if fighting skills were taken that serious on Asgard.
"Idiots," muttered Sif. "No finesse whatsoever. Like a pair of bilgesnipes."
"That may be true," Fandral answered, "but I still would not like to be trampled by either of them." Clark could agree with that sentiment.
It took the Arena Master a long time to calm the crowd and Thor wasn't helping in the least by yelling back at them, but eventually he could make himself heard, announcing, unnecessarily, that the winner was Thor; it took him so long to do that, however, that Volstagg actually woke up before Thor left the arena, banged up and a little dizzy.
None too kindly, he refused the healers help and left the arena alongside Thor, back to where they were. There was another round of applause, something Thor seemed quite happy with, as the contestants congratulated them. And finally they sat back down.
The Arena Master took advantage of the silence and quickly called the other fighters to the arena, but Clark wasn't actually paying attention; he wasn't the only one. After a fight like the one they just had just watched, any other would seem uninteresting.
"Do neither of you have any shame?!" Sif exclaimed. "Do you call that-that thing a fight?!"
"They loved it!" Thor argued.
"Sure, "Fandral chuckled, "but none of them would have to come to the Convergence Tournament to see something you do every night at the tavern."
Thor and Volstagg just laughed; that told Clark who was right in the conversation.
"Ah, I almost had you!" lamented Volstagg, pressing a cold mead mug to his face. "One misstep! One! And you won!"
"We all have our dreams, my friend!" Thor answered, snickering. "We all have our dreams."
Volstagg looked at him seriously for a few seconds and Clark truly wondered if he was offended; then they both began to laugh even harder. Sif rolled her eyes for the hundredth time.
"I can't believe that!" Jane exclaimed, looking at Frigga. "They are drinking! Look!"
Frigga seemed to find that extremely funny; Jane couldn't see why. How could Thor and Volstagg just sit down and drink after a fight like that?! They should've been in the hospital or the Asgardian equivalent of it!"
"We heal fast, Jane," Frigga explained, still smiling. "Neither of them is truly hurt, you do not have to worry."
Maybe, but she was worried. Jesus Christ, how she was worried! Jane found out that she did not enjoy seeing Thor fighting. God of Thunder or not, she did not like to see him in harm's way.
Something on her expression made Frigga's mirth fade, turning into a warm smile. She grabbed Jane's hand.
"Jane, trust me. Thor will be fine."
Somehow, that made Jane relax a bit.
"Next fight: Fandral VS Sif!" yelled the Arena Master.
"A-ha!" exclaimed Fandral, getting up as quickly as Sif, who was also grinning.
Like in the first time they fought, they quickly ran to jump into the arena, but this time Clark stopped Sif. She turned, confused.
"Good luck," he said, knowing well that this fight would be her hardest.
Fandral turned to him, frowning. "Hey!"
"Good luck to you too, Fandral," Clark added, smirking. "After everything she made me go through while training, you're going to need it."
He rolled his eyes as Sif laughed and they both jumped together.
"Now, this is going to be a sight to see," Thor said, slapping Clark's shoulder. "You saw how fast Sif is, right?"
"Yeah," Clark agreed.
"Fandral is the only one who can keep up with her."
"FIGHT!"
Clark saw soon enough what Thor meant. Sif and Fandral blurred as they moved, their blades connecting in a split second. And then the true display of their speed began; it was unbelievable.
His Kryptonian eyes could barely follow their blades as they clashed against one another, so fast that he could actually see their trail, forming a cage around them of afterimages. The sand covering the arena was sucked into a vortex around them, making an artificial sandstorm, and Clark could see their shadows through it, moving faster at each second.
He knew he could move faster than them, but he was absolutely sure he couldn't mirror their moves with the same skill. What they were doing wasn't simply raw speed; it was what almost a thousand years of martial trainning could achieve. Clark was watching two masters crossing swords and he was amazed.
Of course, a duel that fast couldn't last a long time.
The number of people who actually saw what happened was small, simply because it happened too fast for their eyes to catch. Clark, however, saw everything. He saw Sif, his teacher, managing to move even faster than before, her blade scratching Fandral's hand; he saw blood flying and the Asgardian warrior flinching.
That was all it took; Sif's blade stopped, touching Fandral's neck.
The movements stopped suddenly. The sandstorm ended as abruptly as it had started. And when the crowd finally saw what had happened, their yells echoed. Still, Sif kept the sword pointed at Fandral's, until he sighed and dropped his.
"Fine, you win this time," he admitted.
"This time?" she joked, as the Arena Master announced her as the winner.
Clark didn't even realize he was clapping, so impressed with the fight he saw that he hardly could believe. Sif certainly had not told him she could do that. He laughed; she was keeping her tricks in case they had to face each other. Smart.
Luckily, it wouldn't happen. Sif would face Thor in the semifinals. And Clark? He would face Skurge.
"I almost had you!" Fandral complained. "You did that same feint you always do!"
"And you fell for it. Again!" Sif laughed. "You are so gullible!"
"Now, that is true!" Thor needled, good-natured, as Volstagg cackled.
"It really was an impressive fight," Clark said.
The Arena Master had announced a break before the last fights, so the contestants could regain their bearings. To Sif and Thor that meant drinking mead and joking. To Clark, that meant waiting, getting tenser at each second. And to Skurge, the Executioner, that apparently meant staring at said Kryptonian with all malice he could muster.
Clark couldn't count the number of fights he had watched that day, warrior after warrior testing themselves against each other. And somehow, after all that, he was in the semifinals. After one fight. Thor had told him he was at the top of Asgard's rank, but it wasn't until he saw himself one fight away from the big final that he realized how high up he truly was.
The Asgardians had to earn the privilege of facing him, Thor had explained. That didn't make much sense to Clark, but it was what it was.
So now he was waiting to finally face his last adversary. And then, either Thor or Sif. He really didn't know what to think of that, to be honest. He could see dozens of warriors around him that would give anything to be in his position. Recognition in this tournament, overseen by the best warriors of Asgard and even Thor and Odin themselves, was worth everything to them. A lot more than was worth to Clark.
But he came to understand that it wasn't about how much you wanted, it was about deserving. You either carved a path to glory using your own hands, fighting and beating adversaries along the way, or you didn't. Clark, wanting or not, had already done that. Thus, by Asgardian rules, he "deserved" to be where he was.
It didn't matter to them that Clark really didn't care one way or the other.
"What goes inside your mind, my friend?" Thor asked.
"Just thinking," Clark answered, looking to all other contestants. "Any of them would value my place in the semifinal more than me. Now don't get me wrong, I know it's an honor, but–"
"But you were not raised to see it as 'honor'," Thor finished, drinking his mead. "I understand, Kal. But you have to understand something too: they have to earn their position. You earned yours. Even if you offered your place to any of them, they would not accept it. Because it has no value if they did not arrive there by their own merits."
He slapped Clark's back and held his shoulder.
"So do not feel that you stole someone's place today," Thor continued. "You won this position. And if they wanted they should have fought harder. That is the Asgardian way."
Well, that settled it. It didn't exactly made Clark feel better, but at least it put his mind at ease about not deserving to be there. He looked back at Thor and nodded, receiving a bright smile and a mug of mead in return; he drank a little bit, very carefully.
At the moment he put the mug down, the Arena Master reappeared. All the talking eventually died down, as every single person turned to look at him. So, as theatrically as possible, he raised his hands.
"And now, to the first fight of the semifinal: Skurge, the Executioner VS Kal-El, the Savior of Midgard!"
Skurge got up immediately and went to the arena, his enormous axe in his hand. Clark looked back at his friends for a moment, before downing the last of his mead. Somehow, the fact that he was fighting a man without any qualms about killing an already defeated adversary, made it easier.
This wasn't an innocent Asgardian, it was just a bad guy.
"Kal!" called Sif, making him look at her. "Remember what I asked: break him in two!"
"Yes!" agreed Thor, punching his arm. "Show him what happens to dishonorable warriors in Asgard! And then we will fight at the final!"
"I will be at the final!" Sif countered. "But I agree with the first part. Destroy him!"
"Good luck, lad," said Fandral, nodding at him.
"Good slaughter!" screamed Volstagg, clearly a little bit inebriated.
"Thanks, guys," Clark said, smiling.
And then he took off, cutting the sky as he flew up, landing in the arena right in front of Skurge so strongly that the ground shook. Predictably, the crowd loved that.
"He clearly learned to show off from you, Thor. You always manage to spoil my students–" he heard Sif's voice beginning to rant, before he concentrated, ignoring everything around him.
Clark got up, eyeing Skurge with barely concealed anger. The Executioner stared back.
"I will kill you, Kryptonian," he stated. "And I will enjoy it."
"You are not killing anybody today, Skurge," Clark talked back. "And I will make you pay for what you almost did to that man, that I promise you."
Skurge only stared back, ignoring the Arena Master attempts to silence them.
"You are not a warrior," Skurge said, finally. "Not if death offends you that much."
"I am a warrior," Clark answered, with a certainty he did not know he had before. "That's exactly why death offends me that much. And why I fight people like you."
And with that, Clark assumed his martial stance, the practiced moves fluid. His eyes never left Skurge when he channeled his energy; the sand around him was blown away for a moment, alongside his red cape, and began to float.
"FIGHT!"
Skurge roared like a lion, his axe moving fast in Clark's direction. The Kryptonian watched the huge blade coming down and, turning his body, he evaded it, letting it crash against the ground. It should have simply hit the sand, maybe even get stuck, or so Clark thought; he didn't think the ground would simply explode under him, the sheer strength of the blow cracking the arena open.
To everybody else fighting in that tournament, that would have been the end. With no ground to step on, any Asgardian would have fallen down and then be quickly disposed of; Clark, however, was a Kryptonian under a yellow sun. He didn't need a ground to step on. Ignoring the debris flying everywhere, Clark floated a few inches above the arena, dashing forward against Skurge.
The Asgardian pulled his axe back to defend himself in time; it just didn't matter. Clark's palm hit the middle of the axe and broke it in two in one blow, colliding after against Skurge's chest. The impact was lessened, but Kryptonians were just too strong; he felt the black armor bending, the form of Clark's hand forever etched on its surface.
Usually, Clark would have stopped now. Given his adversary a little time to catch his breath, maybe give him a chance to try again. Skurge, however, didn't deserve that. And he had made Sif a promise.
So he attacked again, both his hands clashing against Skurge's ears, the powerful hit destabilizing him completely. Skurge was dizzy, out of breath and unarmed. Torquasm-Rao, however, dictated that an adversary was not beaten until he simply couldn't fight anymore.
Clark's fist crashed against Skurge's right knee, forcing him down with a yell; the back of his same hand went up, hitting his throat; his right leg kicked Skurge still working leg, making him fall; and finally, Clark's knee collided against Skurge's face.
The hit was incredibly strong. He felt Skurge's nose breaking on impact and saw the Asgardian flying up. It was over, Clark knew that. Even if he somehow wasn't unconscious yet, the Arena Master would surely end the fight. Clark watched as Skurge flew, his Kryptonian reflexes seeing things almost in slow motion.
And in a split-second decision, Clark decided that simply wasn't enough.
Against Sif's orders, he used all his speed to catch up to Skurge flying body; and then, using all his strength, Clark delivered the most powerful punch he could in Skurge's face, the powerful blow throwing him against the ground.
The entire middle of the arena became a crater as Skurge collided against it, all the sand rising like a wave. The stadium trembled, like if a massive earthquake had just happened.
Now it was over.
"Unbelievable!" yelled Sif, breaking the absolute silence that had fallen over the arena. "Did you see that?!"
Thor had seen that and he still couldn't believe it. If this was what a Kryptonian could do after three days of training, what would Kal be capable of after training for centuries, like he had? He was excited just by thinking about it. He had to fight Kal in the final!
"That was… I have no words," Fandral said, still too shocked to move. Volstagg just stared, jaw agape, his mug of mead forgotten.
Even his father was watching Kal with his eye wide, Thor noticed. Skurge wasn't just a common warrior. Dishonorable or not, he was powerful and skilled. And Kal just dealt with him as if he was barely a nuisance. It was amazing.
The Arena Master was getting up after being tossed back by the rising sand, looking disheveled and a bit dizzy, but not hurt. Skurge, on the other hand, was practically under the ground now. Kal's punch had literally buried him in the arena.
Somehow, the reappearance of the Arena Master broke the spell and suddenly there was the loudest cheering in the history of Asgard in the arena. If Thor, that had seen what Kal could do before, was impressed beyond words, he couldn't imagine what all the people there were thinking.
He wanted to face Kal more than ever now!
"Holy crap!" Jane finally exclaimed, seeing Clark fly from the arena.
She didn't even care she just cursed in front of her boyfriend's mother, because she too looked ready to say something similar. That… That was Superman in all his glory! Jane couldn't find the words to say how shocked she was by witnessing that.
The healers had dug up Skurge from the arena and after a few incantations from the sorcerers down there the sand had covered the crater again. Jane, however, couldn't help but to watch as Clark was swarmed by every contestant around him, each one of them trying to congratulate him.
"Did you know he could do that?" Frigga finally asked, eyes wide.
Jane laughed nervously. "He is Superman, isn't he?"
"Kal, I am so proud of you!" Sif announced, making Clark blush; what, after basically destroying Skurge, seemed ridiculous, he was well aware. "You are, without a doubt, my best apprentice."
"Thanks, Sif," Clark said, smiling.
"Ah, stop this nonsense!" Fandral exclaimed. "He won by himself, Sif! Stop trying to hog all the glory!"
Sif just shook her head.
"People who are actually still in the tournament are talking, Fandral. Please be silent."
There was a round of laughs after Sif said that, even though none of them but Thor and Clark were actually in the tournament.
"And now, Thor, it is our turn," Sif continued. "Are you ready to lose?"
"Ha! You wish!" Thor countered, as they both jumped in the arena.
Now, that was a fight Clark wanted to see. He knew Thor was stronger than Sif, there was no question about that. But would her skill make her able to balance things? Would it be enough?
"FIGHT!" yelled the Arena Master; Clark would soon find out.
Sif didn't give Thor any time, closing the distance between them as quickly as she did in her other fights. She was, clearly, faster than him; Thor, however, was also very fast. Dodging her attack, he used his hammer, making a broad movement, trying to catch her. Sif turned and jumped, evading it skillfully.
What she didn't anticipate was Thor releasing the hammer.
His weapon didn't hit her, but it forced her to use her small shield to defend herself. It was a heavy hit and it actually dislocated her in the air. And it gave Thor enough time to jump closer. Sif landed, already attacking, but not fast enough; Thor's hand closed around her wrist, making her drop the sword with a twist.
Clark wondered for a second if that was the end for Sif; right until she turned her whole body and clashed her knee against Thor's head. Thor grunted, releasing her for a second, which gave her the chance to unleash a flurry of attacks against him, using her shield as a bashing weapon.
Thor, while being slower, was also incredibly skilled, deflecting most of the attacks and attacking her back. Both of them traded blows for almost a minute, dancing in the arena, until they disengaged, jumping apart; Thor rolled on the ground, grabbing Sif's sword at the same time she got his hammer.
And a second after, they were attacking again, this time using each other's weapons to do so. Clark really couldn't see a difference in skill as they used completely different weapons; he guessed that after centuries training, they would learn to use every kind of weapon in existence.
It was amazing to watch both of them fighting. They moved with a certainty Clark didn't think he would ever had, their attacks so well executed that it was almost as if their bodies did that automatically. Both of them were equally skilled.
But Thor was called the God of Thunder for a reason.
Kicking Sif back, he raised his sword to the sky. As if the weather responded to him, clouds formed on top of the arena. And unleashed a pillar of thunder on the tip of the sword. Clark could barely believe in what he was seeing, as the electricity flowed from the sword to Thor and from Thor to the arena.
It didn't matter that the ground was made of sand, because the ground all around Thor simply exploded, hitting Sif with all its power. She was electrocuted so badly that there was smoke and she was tossed on her back.
Thor touched her neck with the sword.
"So? Who is the best again?" he asked.
Sif just groaned and released her hammer, her body still having spasms.
"Victory belongs to THOR!" the Arena Master announced, making the crowd cheer.
"You cheated!" Sif complained, her muscles still shaking.
"Sif, Sif, Sif… We all have our gifts. Mine is winning!" Thor bragged.
"Cheating is easy!" she complained again, turning to Kal. "Kal, do me a favor and break him in half!"
He rolled his eyes. "I will do my best," he answered, but Sif didn't feel that much sincerity.
Fandral and Volstagg were too busy laughing to be able to say something; Sif would get them back for this, there was no question about that. Still, losing against Thor wasn't something to be ashamed of. He was, after Odin, the strongest Asgardian warrior. Even if she did not like to lose, she knew that if Thor fought with all his strength against her, she wouldn't have lasted a second.
She did wonder, however, if Clark could beat him.
"Now, we prepare for the final battle! The one that will elect our new champion!" the Arena Master began, making everybody look back at the arena." Thor, the God of Thunder VS Kal-El, the Kryptonian!"
Kal and Thor looked at each other and smiled.
"Good fight," Kal wished him. "But not that good."
"Ha!" Thor laughed. "The same to you, my friend!"
And both of them jumped down in the arena, already facing each other. Sif could feel the anticipation building, every single person in the stadium on their feet, anxious to see the big final. And what a final it was: Thor VS Kal. Kryptonian VS Asgardian. Even Sif could barely wait.
"FIGHT!"
Thor decided to attack as fast as he could, maybe trying to overwhelm Kal, his war hammer descending upon the Kryptonian. That was a mistake; Torquasm-Rao was too good for counter-attacks. But Thor wouldn't be Thor if he wasn't taking risks.
Kal deflected Thor's hammer to the side, but before he could actually counter-attack Thor used his other hand to attack as well. Both of them traded blows, too close to each other to try to dodge, fists and hammer blows raining upon them.
As he did against her, Thor released his hammer hoping to catch Kal by surprise. And, in a certain way he did. Managing to distract Kal, Thor held his arms. Then, he attacked the only way he had left; he headbutted him with all his strength.
The blow echoed throughout the arena, dry, short and most definitely painful; Sif could see, however, that the one who suffered the most with this attack was Thor himself. She could only watch as Thor's eyes became glassy for a second. And then, Kal held Thor's arms and headbutted him back.
Sif actually flinched when she heard the noise.
Thor flew back, bouncing in the arena, his head hurting as if Kal had just split it open. How exactly could someone have such a hard head?! He had no idea, but as he rolled in the sand he had no time to think about it.
Digging his hands in the ground, Thor managed to stop himself, just at the moment he saw his own hammer flying against him. He had no chance to defend himself, as he felt his own weapon clash against his chest, sending him back a few meters. Coughing, his ribs hurting, Thor got back up, his hammer back into his hand.
Kal was just too strong. For the second time in his life Thor had encountered someone stronger than him; the Hulk, however, he could outmaneuver by being smart. The Kryptonian had all that strength and a thinking head. That would be hard to trick.
But maybe he wouldn't have to.
Raising his hammer to the sky, Thor summoned a storm again, feeling the thunderbolts descending upon him. And then, holding all their strength inside himself, he unleashed it against Kal.
He had no time to dodge, as the thunderbolts swallowed him whole, turning the whole arena blue. Even still, Thor didn't stop, screaming as he channeled his power without the aid of Mjölnir until there was nothing left.
There was one second of suspense, since nobody could see through the smoke; and then a pair of red eyes glowed.
"Oh, shit–"
Thor could only raise his hammer as a pair of red beams split the air in his direction. He could feel the metal getting hot as the unbelievable power behind that attack was poured into the hammer and he wondered if it would melt in his hands. Before it could, however, Kal was upon him.
He had to hand it to Sif, she as a good teacher. Kal's stance and attacks were perfect. Thor barely had the chance to defend himself as a flurry of attacks was unleashed upon him. Face, stomach, neck, knee, chest and then a powerful headbutt all over again. Thor was tossed on his back, his entire body hurting, but Odin didn't raise a quitter.
So while he was falling, still in the air, he tossed his hammer at Kal with all his strength.
Clark raised his hand and grabbed the hammer before it could hit him. It was heavy and Thor tossed it with incredibly strength, but he took it. He looked at Thor as he got up, panting, and with all his power he began to close his hand.
The hammer was being crushed into dust under his fingers.
He saw Thor's jaw drop and he heard the crowd gasping in surprise, but he didn't stop. Despite all he thought about himself and this tournament, Clark was actually having fun. For the first time he could fight using all his strength, without having to be afraid of killing someone. For the first time he didn't have to worry about bystanders. For the first time he didn't feel like a bull in a china shop.
Clark wanted to see what he could really do.
Tossing the crushed hammer to the side, Clark looked at Thor.
"Call your real hammer," he said, seeing Thor's eyes widen. "Let's see what you can really do."
Thor grinned and opened his hand. Soon enough, Clark listened to something parting the sky and Mjölnir appeared, flying right at Thor's opened hand. He held it with practiced ease, beginning to swing it fast. And without saying anything, he flew against Clark, at the same moment Clark flew against him.
Fist and hammer clashed against each other.
Algrim looked around his cell, full of prisoners from the raids against Vanaheim. It had been his idea to hide between them, so the Asgardians would take him inside their palace without the need to force their way through. They could do it, of course, but they did not have the numbers they once had.
They hadn't even taken his mask from him; not that would make any difference, since Malekith had hidden his form under an illusion, but the fact that they barely searched him made hide the Kurse Stone inside his healed wound that much easier.
The cell was surrounded by a yellow barrier, too strong to be broken by his strength alone. The strength of a Kursed one, however, was unstoppable. Soon he would retrieve the stone, undergo the transformation and take their defenses from the inside. That would allow Malekith and his soldiers to invade the palace with their ships.
It was lucky for them that most Asgardians were busy fighting or watching the tournament. A tournament, he learned, made to celebrate the Dark Elves defeat. How ironic was that?
There was a shockwave of wind, debris and thunderbolts when Kal's fist clashed against Mjölnir, so strong that the barriers around the arena ignited in an orange blaze to protect the bystanders. That wasn't much of a surprise, they were there for that exact reason. What shocked Sif was the amount of damage they took, cracking like a window in the verge of breaking.
"This is insane!" Sif exclaimed, barely believing her eyes. "If they continue like this they will bring the whole place down!"
Volstagg and Fandral agreed in silence, too impressed to say anything. Sif, to be honest, had almost lost her voice too. Kal and Thor were fighting with all their power down in the arena and it was simply unbelievable.
After clashing against each other, the Kryptonian and the Asgardian were tossed back, the shockwaves throwing them away, but it stopped the fight for mere seconds. Swinging Mjölnir, Thor summoned the winds around them, conjuring a hurricane so big it took almost the entire arena, carrying the sand and filling itself with electricity.
And without waiting for Kal, he took off, flying in the middle of it.
Kal flew against him soon enough, ignoring the strong winds as if they weren't there, and Thor pointed Mjölnir at him; there was a blast of thunder, several times stronger than the ones he conjured without Mjölnir. Kal, instead of dodging or defending himself, unleashed his heat vision.
Red and blue clashed, the electricity and the read beams fighting against each other, powering up as the two attacks collided. For a few seconds both Kal and Thor unleashed all their power.
Until everything exploded.
Sif actually flinched when the barriers cracked a bit more, but she didn't have the time to think about it because Kal launched himself upon Thor, both of them trading blows as they flew. There wasn't technique anymore, no more Torquasm-Rao, just full blown brawling.
It didn't mean it wasn't impressive though.
Algrim crushed the Kurse Stone in his hand. There was no going back now. He felt his body burning, pain like he had never experienced before taking his very being, as the stone changed him from inside out. He would become living darkness, the very avatar of his people, as unbeatable as the night.
He could hear the despair of his cellmates as he trashed around, too afraid of his transformation to get any closer. They began to call the guards, yelling in fear, but it would hardly matter. And with one last scream, Algrim became one of the Kurse.
There was an explosion of pure darkness, taking everything in its path, being barely contained by the barriers. His cellmates were thrown behind, but he didn't pay attention to that, looking at himself.
He wasn't a Dark Elf anymore, but a living weapon. His body was as hard as stone, his claws were sharper than the sharpest blade and his appearance, with horns and tusks, would put fear in the heart of his adversaries. No one could defeat a Kurse.
Grabbing one of his cellmates, Algrim used him to force the barrier, rejoicing in the screams of pain as the barrier burned him. The Asgardian guards, alerted by the yells, arrived fast. But it wouldn't matter.
With a single punch, Algrim broke the barrier, the shockwaves making the Asgardians fall down. They got up again quickly, clearly terrified, but to their credit they attacked. It made no difference. Their swords hit him, but couldn't cut his skin. So, using his incredible new strength, Algrim held them by their necks and lifted them.
And willing the fiery darkness inside himself out, he burned them to husks.
It was power like he couldn't imagine. Algrim had never, in all his life, felt so strong. There was nothing in this universe that could stop him, he was sure of that, as he walked the dungeons, ignoring the alarm sounding. The other prisoners were yelling, not able to tell what was happening. They were clearly useless, but Algrim thought they could serve as a distraction at least.
So he punched the barrier of the closest cell, destroying it. And when the prisoners realized he wasn't going to just kill them, they got out, attacking the guards arriving. Algrim followed his path, breaking the barriers and realizing the prisoners, until he got to the last one.
There was only one man inside. It was a bigger cell and the man was dressed in finer clothing, but he was a prisoner nonetheless. He was, however, different from the others, of that Algrim had no doubt.
Instead of fearing him, the prisoner stared at his eyes, almost challenging to let him out. And for the first time since Algrim had become a Kurse he felt that little warning in the back of his mind: danger.
Roaring, pulling back his hand, Algrim retreated; it just wasn't worth the trouble.
"You might want to take the stairs to the left," he heard the advice from the prisoner.
Algrim looked back at him, considering his words. The path was blocked by dozens of Asgardians. They weren't a challenge, but they would take time to kill. Maybe the prisoner was right.
Clark punched Thor's face, tossing him all the way down from the sky, but he just shrugged it off and tossed Mjölnir against him. This time, unlike the cheap imitation, Clark felt the metal hit him like a meteor, actually dropping him from the air too. Falling by Thor's side, Clark got up quickly, using his superior speed to attack before he could summon his hammer back.
His fist collided against Thor with all his power, but he actually held his ground, landing his own fist in his stomach. Again, Clark felt the hit, much stronger than before, the hammer clearly powering up Thor; still, not stronger than his own punches. Clark hit him again, before jumping to the side to evade Mjölnir flying back to Thor.
The last time he had fought like that was against Zod. Things were different now, of course; Thor was a friend and they were fighting for fun. And that made all the difference. Clark found out, to his surprise, that he actually liked to fight.
Both of them were laughing, more than happy to test their strength against each other, like a couple of children playing. But unfortunately, neither of them could play for much longer.
They heard the alarms at the same time, stopping to attack immediately. Clark didn't know what was happening, but all around him the Asgardians were taking their eyes from the arena to look somewhere else.
"The prisons," Thor said, eyes widening. "Loki!"
Clark understood enough. All Asgardians were leaving the arena, their weapons ready, led by Fandral and Volstagg, but Sif jumped in the arena with them. The hurricane Thor had summoned was gone now.
Thor looked up, to his father.
"Go!" Odin ordered.
And swinging his hammer, Thor took off. Clark considered following him, but Sif stopped him.
"Wait, if they need you, you go," she said. "Let's not divide our strength more than necessary for now."
Saying this, she jumped all the way to where Odin, Frigga and Jane were.
"Frigga, go back to the palace and take Jane. Sif, go with them," Odin said. "You will be safe there, until we deal with this skirmish."
Frigga nodded and opened a fiery portal so she and Sif could take Jane back to safety, all the way to the palace. Clark turned to look there, seeing a golden dome beginning to take form around it, not that different from the barrier they had in the arena. Whatever was happening, the palace would be able to guard itself.
That was when he heard an explosion coming from the Bifrost.
Heimdall stood guard at the Bifrost, as he always had, his eyes being able to see everything happening in the Nine Realms. He smiled, listening to the laughs of Thor and the Kryptonian Kal-El, as they battled in the tournament, both obviously happy. It was good to see and hear happiness in Asgard.
His hearing was picking up a different kind of sound, however.
He heard the alarms of the palace and the roars of some beast. He heard Asgardians fighting and dying. He heard the sound of the guards marching to the prisons, ready to battle whatever monstrosity was doing all that. And he also heard the faint sound of ships approaching.
Yet, he could not see them.
Running as fast as he could, Heimdall left his post and followed the sounds, his steps lighting up the Bifrost. Forcing his eyes, he could see the shape of a ship flying by the side of the Rainbow Bridge, using some kind of cloaking device to hide itself from him. So he did what a guardian had to do: he attacked it.
Heimdall jumped from the bridge, his knifes cutting the hull of the ship easily, as he used them to remain stuck to it. There was fire when the weird metal was cut, but the ship continued to fly normally; he doubted it would when he destroyed its engine, though. Allowing the knives to cut even more of the hull, Heimdall got closer from the engine and launched one of his knives there, jumping back to the Bifrost.
The result was instantaneous, as the ship lost its power and exploded, falling on top of the Bifrost in a blaze of fire.
That was when a much bigger ship made itself known, releasing a fleet of smaller ones in the palace's direction.
Malekith could barely contain his excitement. He had waited too long for this and now he would take back what was rightfully his. Soon, the Aether would be back in his possession and when the Convergence reached its peak he would be able to save his people from extinction.
But first he needed to win a battle.
His ship flew over Asgard's oceans, dodging the fire from the defense towers, and soon he could see the golden palace in the horizon. And around it, taking form, was a yellow barrier. Malekith knew his ship wouldn't be able to destroy it, but that would not be necessary.
Not when Algrim was already inside, his sole purpose right now to bring that barrier down.
His trust that Algrim would bring the barrier down never wavered, as he flew at full speed in the palace's direction. If he couldn't bring it down in time, he would crash against it or be forced to maneuver back, passing again in the middle of the defense towers. But Malekith knew his trust was well placed.
And just like he planned, at the exact moment his ship would hit the barrier, Algrim destroyed the source of its power.
His ship entered the palace destroying every pillar in its way, the hull simply too strong to be stopped. He and his soldiers held down as the ship lost speed, touching the very halls of the Asgardian palace, until if finally stopped.
Right in the middle of the throne room.
A full battalion of Einherjar approached the ship, their swords, spears and shields raised. Malekith observed them through the cameras, his soldiers ready to attack. So he opened the doors of the ship, drawing all their attention to it.
At the same time he activated the turrets.
The guns fired their red laser, catching the Asgardians by surprise and killing several. And at that moment his soldiers left the ship, shooting. They managed to kill the closest ones, but eventually the Einherjar made a shield wall and defended themselves from their guns. So they used a black hole grenade.
One of his soldiers tossed it right at their shield wall; when it detonated, a singularity was opened, its gravitational field dragging every Asgardian in its reach and shoving them through a black hole, sending them to any other place in the universe, most likely the void of space.
The disorganized shield wall turned the Einherjar into targets all over again and his soldiers began to shoot, killing several. But reinforcements eventually arrived. Using their blades to fight in close quarters, his soldiers met the Asgardians head on.
That was when Malekith left the ship, walking in the middle of the battlefield alongside a few trusted soldiers. He completely ignored the fight, following the call of the Aether; that is, until he passed through the Asgardian throne. The throne of the same people that had defeated him before.
Grabbing a belt full of grenades from a fallen soldier, he tossed one against the throne, seeing the powerful singularity breaking it stone by stone and throwing it inside the black hole. Now it was time to get the Aether.
Clark saw a scene of total destruction in the throne room as Odin opened a portal, not unlike Frigga. Dozens of Asgardians were dead on the floor, one of the ships that had invaded had somehow destroyed everything and landed there and there were other beings there as well.
Pointing their weapons at them.
Before they could fire, Odin unleashed a golden beam of energy from his spear, completely disintegrating them. He was surprised however, Clark could see that.
"Dark Elves!" he exclaimed and Clark had to make sure he heard it right.
Kneeling, Clark turned the closest one to face him, gasping when he saw the same beings from the book Odin had showed them. But how was that possible? Looking at Odin, however, he saw something resembling fear.
"Frigga!"
The Aether, they were here for it, Clark suddenly realized. And right now, the Aether was inside Jane. Odin raised his hand and began to open another portal, no doubt to his and Frigga's quarters, where he could defend them. Nothing was happening however.
"Someone is blocking me," he said, looking at Clark.
Clark concentrated, trying to hear their voices, to find where they were. It wasn't long until he did; Odin nodded to him. So faster than ever, Clark took off, breaking the floors of the palace to get there quickly.
Frigga watched as the doors of her quarters were broken and two Dark Elves came in. One she knew, it was Malekith, the leader of the Dark Elves. The other, slender, carrying a staff and using a mask she did not know.
It hardly mattered.
"Stand down, creatures," she ordered, a sword in hand, as Jane remained behind her, scared, " and you may still survive this."
"I have survived worse, woman," Malekith answered, not stopping. "And I would have what is mine."
He looked at Jane as he said that. But as he did, he frowned for a second. Before he could do anything, Frigga slashed his face with her sword. He grunted in pain, attacking her with his own sword. Frigga grinned as she defended herself, moving with incredible grace as they fought.
All Asgardians knew how to fight and as a Queen, married to Odin, Frigga made sure to be an expert.
She and Malekith danced in the room, their blades clashing against each other, the fight getting faster by the second. But while she fought him, the other Dark Elf advanced towards Jane, close enough to grab her by the neck.
Or try to, because at the moment the hand touched Jane the illusion dispelled and Sif took her place; it was by a miracle that the Dark Elf managed to use the staff to defend from Sif.
"Witch!" yelled Malekith, as he saw Jane's form disappearing.
He was so enraged that Frigga managed to surprise him, disarming him with a powerful blow and pressing the sword against his neck. At the moment she would kill him, however, the entire wall of the room exploded, the debris flying against her.
Frigga managed to summon a barrier to protect her and Sif, but as she did it the beast that had destroyed the wall advanced upon her, breaking her barrier with a flick of its claws. And before she could do anything, it grabbed her by the neck, taking the sword from her hand and pointing its claws at her back; it was just too strong for her to do anything.
Sif stopped to fight immediately, seeing that she was being held hostage.
"Where is the Aether?" Malekith asked.
Frigga smiled, challenging him.
"I will never tell you."
Malekith looked inside her eyes for a moment.
"I believe you," he said.
Frigga felt the creature's claws piercing her skin and she knew she would die. But before she could even feel the pain, there was a sound, like the very sky was being split open. There was a blue and red blur.
And then Kal-El's fist collided against the creature with such power that Frigga listened to it breaking the walls of the palace nonstop for minutes.
Clark flew as fast as he could, breaking the floors of the palace instead of going around them, following the sound of fighting coming from Frigga's room. And when he finally arrived, he saw a huge horned monster a second away from killing her.
He saw the claws of the beast piercing Frigga's back and he moved, faster than he ever did, not about to let her die under his watch. Before he could even think, he was already reacting, his hand making a fist to punch the creature with all his strength, throwing it away from Frigga.
"Frigga, are you okay?!" Clark asked, holding her before she could drop, seeing the blood on her back.
Before she could answer, however, Malekith screamed.
"ABOMINATION!"
It took Clark one second to understand that he was talking to him. Odin had told him, after all, that Dark Elves despised Kryptonians. One was darkness itself, the other was light. They were opposites; and they were both enemies.
He did not have the chance to answer, because before he could do anything, Malekith took a belt full of weird looking grenades and pulled their pins, tossing all of them at the middle of the room, between Clark and Frigga and Sif and the other Dark Elf.
None of them had time to react, as all the grenades detonated, not with an explosion, but with a gigantic black hole. Clark felt himself being pushed towards it, doing his best to try and shield Frigga from the gravitational pull as his muscles battled against the overwhelming force.
Sif and the unnamed Dark Elf were pulled as well, both of them trying to hold themselves desperately. Sif pierced the ground with her sword, but it was just too strong, and the Dark Elf grasped her leg, trying at all costs to not be pulled towards the black hole.
Still holding Frigga, Clark reached and grasped Sif, pulling her and the Dark Elf holding her closer, his entire body burning with the effort, just like when he battled the World Engine. He tried to make sure the gravitational pull was only dragging him, knowing his body could probably get out of this in one piece, but at each passing second the black hole got closer and even stronger. Clark didn't even notice he was yelling, all his will focused in fighting against it; and he managed to stop being pulled.
That was when Malekith tossed another grenade.
Frigga knew they would get pulled into the black hole now, there was no escape. Kal-El had managed to hold them until now, but the last grenade was just too much. She could feel him holding her and Sif, and consequently the Dark Elf holding Sif's leg, but sooner rather than later it would be too much.
She had to do something.
Focusing, ignoring the pain and the gravitational pull as best as she could, Frigga began to open a portal behind them. It was, however, impossible to do it. The singularity was disrupting her magic and there wasn't anything she could do about it. Frigga could, however, try something different.
Closing her eyes, she began to craft a barrier around them. The orange energy surrounded them, like a ball, protecting them from the brunt of its power; she knew, though, it wouldn't be enough to avoid the black hole.
But maybe it would be enough to make them survive.
Clark felt the entire world shifting around them as the black hole finally absorbed them, the orange barrier Frigga summoned protecting his body from the truly powerful gravitational force. For one moment, he was confused, not knowing what was happening.
That's when he realized they were in the middle of space.
That grenade had opened a wormhole and tossed them… Somewhere. He had absolutely no idea where, but it didn't matter right now. He could survive in vacuum, but he wasn't sure if Asgardians could.
Looking around as fast as he could, Clark's eyes fixed themselves on what could be their salvation: a big planet nearby.
Making sure he was grabbing everybody, Clark began to fly as fast as he could, the orange barrier still around them. It didn't take long until they began to descend on the planet, its atmosphere starting to burn the orange dome around them. He looked around, seeing Sif, Frigga and the Dark Elf barely managing to understand what was going on, maybe to exhausted and hurt to care.
So he pushed down, trusting Frigga's magic to hold its own. And surprisingly, it did. For a time.
Until it exploded. It was like they collided against something, except there was nothing to collide against. Clark didn't understand what happened, but it was too late to care, because they were all freefalling now and there was nothing they could do to stop it.
Clark crashed against the ground heavily, breaking everything in his path, feeling his body apparently hitting everything it could. But soon, he managed to stop; he breathed, deeply, and spat the dirt from his mouth. Getting up, Clark looked around, trying to find Frigga, Sif and the Dark Elf, maybe try to identify where he was. What he saw, however, was less rewarding and much more worrying.
Because high up in the sky, glowing amongst the clouds, was a red sun.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone