Weapons were launched in a frenzy—spears and halberds like a forest, blades like rain.
Rogers danced through the onslaught, leaping, rolling, and bending, like a dancer on the edge of a blade, barely clinging to life amidst the storm of steel.
Three more projectiles blocked his path.
The Captain fell back on his old routine, hunching over to take the impact behind his shield.
Ding!
A resonant clang rang out, accompanied by Steve’s stifled groan of pain.
Golden chains, trailing from the shimmering wall of light, had found their mark; a sharp, triangular tip had pierced the Captain’s thigh.
The chains retracted, dragging the man to the ground and pulling him toward Karsa.
“Why is it I never hit your legs?” Karsa mused, a playful smile on his face.
It was a question that had baffled him in his past life: whenever Rogers faced machine-gun fire, he always shielded his upper body, yet his legs remained miraculously unscathed.
“I thought you were actually the ’50/50′ legend everyone talked about.” More blades emerged from the wall of light.
Karsa looked down from his perch, his eyes turning cruel.
“Are you ready to meet your fate, you vermin?” A trident flew out like a cannonball, straight for the Captain’s eyes.
Just as the tip was about to pierce him, a hand snatched it from the air.
Unsurprisingly, it was Thor.
“I’ve had enough of your arrogance!” Thor looked up at his brother, his voice chillingly cold.
Deep in his eyes, faint blue sparks of electricity began to brew.
Watching this, Karsa narrowed his eyes.
It seemed the blood of companions was indeed the perfect catalyst; perhaps he would awaken his potential early, evolving from a “Mjolnir-dependent” God of Thunder into the true Storm God.
Though his mind raced, his expression remained unchanged.
His tone grew icy, like a winter gale.
“My foolish brother, have you finally decided to resist?” “Without your hammer, what talent do you have left?” “Come and find out!” Thor spun the trident, executing a practiced flourish.
His face was a mask of suppressed rage.
Karsa frowned.
He let the Ea dissolve into golden dust, hopped gracefully off the statue, and snatched a crimson long spear from the ground.
It was Gáe Dearg, the “Crimson Rose of Extermination,” capable of nullifying mana-based defenses.
“If it were these vermin, they wouldn’t be worthy of me lifting a finger,” Karsa remarked, holding the spear loosely, his eyes sharp as a hawk’s.
“But as a fellow god, my brother, you are worthy of my respect!” The two took their stances, ready to let their martial prowess decide the victor.
A breeze brushed by.
No one dared to breathe.
This was a duel between brothers, but it was also a battle that would decide everyone’s fate.
Thor roared, leaped into the air like a tiger, and swung the trident down with enough force to cleave a mountain.
CLANG!
Metal shrieked against metal.
Sparks showered the ground.
Karsa held the spear like a shield, catching the blow, then immediately pivoted, sliding the trident aside and thrusting the butt of the spear toward Thor’s legs.
Had it landed, it would have crippled him.
Thor, sensing the danger, hopped back with the agility of a rabbit, countering with the butt of his own trident.
But Karsa’s strength was vastly superior; Thor’s block crumbled, and he stumbled back, nearly losing his balance.
“What trash.
I think Sif has a hundred times your strength!” Karsa mocked him.
He didn’t press the attack while Thor was off-balance, but his words dripped with disappointment.
Thor glared at him.
Sif was one of his best warriors, but she was still a woman in his eyes—Karsa’s comparison was a deliberate humiliation, an insult suggesting Thor was weaker than a lady.
“I’ll make you pay for that!” He thrust the trident forward like a viper.
Karsa deflected it with a flick of his spear.
Thor didn’t relent; he surged forward with immense power, sweeping from the side.
Karsa blocked it, then, while Thor was overextended, kicked him square in the chest, sending him flying.
“How about a game?” Karsa twirled the crimson spear and pointed it at Captain America.
“Every round you lose, I’ll stab him once.
Let’s see who can last longer—you or your friend!” “You’ve already lost two rounds.
That’s two stabs.” Without waiting for Thor to agree, Karsa struck like lightning, opening two bloody wounds on Rogers’ shoulder and waist.
Captain America: ????
Thor’s eyes turned bloodshot.
Electricity crackled around his body, snapping and popping with rage.
“You pervert!” “That’s no way to talk to your dear brother.
Let’s begin the third round!” This time, Karsa attacked first.
The crimson spear thrust forward like a dragon emerging from the sea.
Thor’s trident moved to intercept it, but Karsa’s spear-tip shifted in the final millisecond.
Seeing the point aimed for his heart, Thor panicked.
A rush of heat surged within him; his trident flickered with an arc of electricity, creating a surge of magnetism that latched onto the Gáe Dearg and held it firm.
“So that’s how it is?” For the first time, Karsa looked surprised.
Electricity could induce magnetism, yes, but to do it so perfectly in a moment of crisis?
Though surprised, it was a minor inconvenience.
He shook the spear, and the Gáe Dearg tore free from the magnetic hold.
The momentum was spent, and Thor was ready, so Karsa didn’t force a follow-up.
“Not bad.
You’ve finally piqued my interest.
Keep it up!” He cast a significant glance at the Captain America—the threat was clear.
Thor ground his teeth in frustration, more alert than ever.
That rush of heat…
it was like a password unlocking the power within him.
He had always believed his power came from Mjolnir.
Now, he realized that was a lie.
Commanding the lightning was his own birthright, the manifestation of his own divine strength—Mjolnir was merely a tool.
Hold onto it.
I have to hold onto it.
This is the key to defeating Karsa!
Thor muttered to himself, desperately trying to summon that feeling again.
But no matter how hard he tried, it felt just out of reach, like a canyon he couldn’t quite leap.
Karsa, seeing this, couldn’t help but smile.
If you rely on yourself to figure this out, we’ll be here until the end of time.
Let me help you.
He used thirty percent of his power this time.
The crimson spear danced, manifesting three vivid flower-like strikes, aimed precisely at Thor’s shoulders and the center of his forehead.
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