(5 Years later)
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You ever wake up in a palace made of gold and cosmic energy and think, "Wow, my life is so hard"?
Yeah. Me neither.
Five years in Asgard and I can safely say: life here? Pretty sweet.
Especially when you're the prince.
Kneel, peasants. I'm the Prince of Asgard. Haha, I'll wait for the right time to utter that, when some people don't give me face and courting death!
Right now, I'm in my golden royal chamber, on my golden bed, practising magic.
Anyway. Let's talk about magic. Aesir magic, to be exact. I've been sneaking into Valhalður's Archive every night since I could crawl (well, float). After five years of midnight study sessions, I've understood the basic principles pretty well.
[Skill Acquired:
Extra Skill: Runic Magic
Details: A higher-tier magic skill that grants access to Aesir-origin runic spells. Enables advanced war-class, warrior-class enhancement and offence magics.]
But here's the catch: while I get the core system, truly mastering every last spell and rune in the royal archives? That'll take me at least twenty more years, due to the sheer volumes of it. Of course, taking Ælir capabilities into account.
A normal Asgardian would need centuries to finish all those endless tomes, rows upon rows in the library.
Every scrap of theory and rune knowledge is packed in there, accumulated for millennia, from the time of my father, Odin, and his father, Borr.
Not counting the Allfather's personal runes — Asgard's ultimate cheat codes. Those are locked tighter than a dragon's hoard. Only Odin's bloodline can even see them, and even then, you need his permission to use them. Definitely not happening anytime soon.
So, how do these so-called "gods" use runes?
Brute-Berserker build.
Spartan style.
Runes are used for fighting techniques, you can call it (martial style) or war-related magic, like weapon enhancement, battlefield control and healing.
Definitely no sniping Avada Kedavra.
Aesir magic is raw, ancient, and kind of chaotic.
It all starts with runes. Each one is like a universal command — stronger than words, embodying raw concepts, overwhelmingly powerful.
Most Aesir throw magic like giant hammers, destructive, impactful and for war only. I tried to create something efficient.
For everyday convenience.
I am trying to make a new magic system.
But so far? My "candlelight" spell turned into a lighthouse. The runes are just too raw and strong.
See, Aesir magic is all about power and impact. Most warriors learn it just to punch harder, hit faster, or survive longer. Tricks? Who needs that when you can shatter mountains?
Their entire magic system is warrior-focused: swords, hammers, lightning bolts that can turn a mountain into smithereens.
Maybe there's a way to control rune power buried somewhere in the library… or maybe not.
Either way, I need to read all those books and scrolls to create a whole magic system.
Or… I could try learning from Agamotto. But realistically, would he teach all his magics to me, an Asgardian? a war-loving race?
Magic that can fight powerful entities...like the Vishantis?
No.
Better to create my own system, that's unique to us, the Asgardians.
Anyway. Morning in the palace starts the same way every day.
I stretch, hop off my ridiculously soft bed, and walk out of my chamber like a mini celebrity. The marble halls glow under the morning light, and the maids line up along the corridor.
They bow deeply and greet me, "Good morning, Your Highness," their voices soft and careful, like they're worried Father might appear behind me any second. I mean, Odin is terrifying. Even I wouldn't want to spill tea in front of him.
But with me and Hela? They sometimes slip up and show little smiles, or their eyes soften like they're watching cute kittens. Can't blame them. We are pretty adorable.
I give them a small nod, all princely and proper—gotta keep up appearances, after all.
Then breakfast. Today's menu is next-level divine: honey-glazed apples, roasted sea drake tail (imagine salmon but juicier and a little smoky), plus bread so soft it basically melts on your tongue. Earth toast could never.
I pile my plate sky-high and plop down next to Hela, who's poking at her fruit like she's trying to figure out if it's alive.
"Eat more than that," I say, sliding an extra pastry onto her plate. "Otherwise, you'll get tired during lessons later. You know how those old crooks are — 'No resting, you must endure!' 'A princess should not show emotions!'" I mimic them in a high, exaggerated voice.
Hela pouts, cheeks puffing out. "Mmm… mean old crooks…" she mumbles, stabbing her fruit with extra drama.
I lean over and ruffle her hair.
She squeaks and tries to smack my hand away with her tiny palm, but she's way too slow. "Heeey! Stop!" she whines.
"Look at you, acting all fierce," I tease.
She scrunches her nose at me but finally takes a big bite of her fruit, cheeks stuffed like a squirrel.
"Better," I say, giving her a big thumbs-up.
She pouts but keeps chewing, her feet swinging under the chair.
Honestly, she tries so hard to act like an adult sometimes, but she's still a kid.
After breakfast, we head off to our "Prince & Princess Lessons." She walks beside me, chin up, trying to look all regal — but she still clings to the edge of my sleeve the whole way.
Yeah. Every day, after meals, we attend royal etiquette, basic battle theory, Asgardian history, and diplomatic conduct classes. Gotta make sure the next generation of Asgard's royalty doesn't embarrass themselves in front of other realms.
Hela hates them, but I think they're kind of fun — watching her puzzled and confused is entertaining. Guess studying is not her strength.
A few hours later, we finally escape those mind-numbing lessons. Hela runs off to her room, claiming she has "important princess duties" — which probably means braiding her dolls' hair or crafting dramatic death threats for her imaginary enemies.
Me? I need some fresh air.
I wander out to a small grassy hill just beyond the main courtyard. The sky is wide and impossibly blue, the wind brushing against my face like a gentle greeting. I flop down on the grass with a sigh, arms behind my head, soaking it all in.
Ah. The true life of a prince: sunshine, no responsibilities, and an all-you-can-eat buffet whenever I want.
Ragnarok? That's millennia away. Plenty of time for training arc. Why sweat now? Just chill and have fun.
I'm sure I'm strong enough already — not sure exactly how much, but hey, I've got a whole library of runes memorised. Good enough for now.
As I'm admiring the clouds, I notice someone moving below.
A boy, maybe a little older than me — or at least taller. He's swinging a practice sword with all the grace of a drunk frost giant.
I narrow my eyes.
[He is over-rotating his hips. His weight distribution is unbalanced. Estimated success rate: below 30%.]
Ælir's analysis scrolls through my head like a live commentary feed.
"Yeah, no kidding," I mutter.
The kid is definitely struggling. His footwork is a mess, and his swing timing is way off. But… there's something about his eyes. Focused. Stubborn.
[Subject identified: Tyr. Orphan under Frigga's royal sponsorship program. Enrolled in palace guard candidate training. Potential future Einherjar unit member.]
Ah. One of Mother's orphans. She takes in kids who lost their families in border raids or monster attacks, giving them a new chance. Those with potential get training as future guards or soldiers — some even dream of becoming Einherjar.
[Analysis: latent combat aptitude detected. Unrefined, but promising. Genetic markers suggest high adaptability and resilience. Potential to develop a 'Battle Trance' trait.]
Whoa. Battle Trance?
I read about that in the royal library. It's a rare trait that lets a warrior enter a hyper-focused state in life-or-death fights — sharper senses, faster reflexes.
But the real kicker? You actually grow stronger mid-battle, learning and evolving with each clash.
Basically, you enter the so-called enlightenment or trance during the fight, able to "see" the essence of combat.
A cheat. (Mine's better.)
I sit up, suddenly more interested than ever.
"Hey!" I call out.
The boy jumps, nearly drops his sword, and spins to face me. He freezes when he realises who's talking to him.
"Y-Your Highness!" He fumbles into a shaky salute.
"Relax," I say, hopping down the hill. "You look like you're about to faint."
I walk up to him and tap his sword gently. "Mind if I show you something?"
He hesitates, eyes wide, but then nods quickly and hands the sword to me like it's a holy relic.
I take a stance — feet apart, knees bent, centre low. Slowly, I guide him through the motion.
"This is called the Sunfall Arc," I explain. "A technique used by the Royal Guard — precise, balanced, and easy to transition into other strikes. Watch carefully."[1]
I move carefully, exaggerating each step so he can see. Hip turn, elbow angle, follow-through — clean and steady. Then I hand the sword back.
"Now, your turn. Let's fix that floppy fish swing of yours."
Tyr takes a deep breath, copies my stance, and moves.
Not perfect — far from it — but way better.
[Correction rate: 43% improvement on first attempt. High potential confirmed.]
I grin. "Not bad for a first try."
"Keep practising like that," I continue, resting my hands behind my head. "Focus on balance first, then speed. Strength comes last. Don't rush."
Tyr nods so hard I think his head might fly off. "Yes, Your Highness! Thank you!"
I grin, leaning back into the grass again.
I close my eyes for a moment, listening to the rhythmic swish of Tyr's new and improved swings.
Guess even a golden prince needs a side quest every now and then.
The sun is warm on my face, and the sound of Tyr's blade cuts the air, crisp and honest.
[1] [Common Skill: Sunfall Arc]
Description: A basic sword technique used by the Royal Guards. Focuses on precision, balance, and fluid transitions into follow-up strikes.
Source: Acquired through observation and analysis of palace guard training.