Ausar 8 Months Later POV

*THUNK*

I dodged to the side as the wall of meat in front of me brought their mace down where I’d previously been standing. The rush of air from his blow caused my hair to be swept back, as well as made sure I was aware of the great power the attack conveyed.

His speed was lackluster, technique… non-existent. He had strength but not the brains to use it well, yet still… I was terrified. This was my first true fight to the death, and even knowing my opponent wasn’t a millionth as strong as my usual sparring partner, the thought that I had no safety net to catch me if I failed, or that there would be no mercy upon my loss… it all hit me quite hard.

That and the fact I would be killing a sapient being. Mother had of course taken me on short hunts, where I was forced to put down squirrels or rabbits that we would then use as lunch. It desensitized me to killing a bit, as well as made me appreciate the life which had been taken to provide sustenance for my own.

…But that wasn’t the case here. Here it was just an idiotic alien enemy of Asgard, a foe which would serve as a stepping stone to help me adapt to war. His death would only prove whether I was a sharp sword that Asgard could wield… or a dull blade whose worth was overhyped.

I’d already seen a thousand opportunities to end this battle, a swing that was too telegraphed or which caused him to overextend, terrible footwork that would make it easy to trip or outmaneuver him… shoddy guards and blocks which were amateurish at best. None had caused me to act- too caught up in my own mind and internal moral crisis.

I know he had to die. There were thousands of foes waiting for me in the future, and if I couldn’t take the first step here, then I’d never be ready for when it truly mattered. And it wasn’t like I could spare him either… sparing an enemy just left you open to attacks down the line. Besides, doing so would see mother or grandmother doing the deed anyway, and I knew that if the positions were switched he would have killed me without a second thought.

But my mind kept going back to that dark place, of the blade I wielded against those I loved… regardless of whether it was real or an illusion. It felt a little silly to think of this battle as being a door that led into that horrific nightmare version of what I could become… but it was honestly all that I could think about.

Would killing this foe give me that gleeful taste for death and suffering like my other half clearly had? Would it turn me into the monster it so clearly believed everyone would see me as?

…

…Never.

*Shik*

With practiced ease, I dodged past my opponent's swing, and cut through the back of his knees- forcing him to drop backward and crash into the dirt. I then jumped onto his chest and leveled my sword above him, ready to send the killing blow through the gap in his helmet.

With how fast I could think, plus the addition of adrenaline flowing in my system, everything seemed to slow down in that moment. I could see his eyes beginning to widen, and the desperation contained within… I could also see the moment that it slowly transitioned to despair… when he knew there was no escape.

I felt like I had a very long time to consider my actions… my reasons and justifications. I wasn’t a monster, and killing another wouldn’t change that. Even before being reborn here, I was never a saint… in a time where life was seen as sacred, the only ones I can recall particularly caring about was that of children or animals…

To kill another… what mattered was reason and intent.

If you killed another for enjoyment, or cruelly prolonged a death needlessly? Then you were scum worthy of the cruelest fate the universe could throw at you.

If you killed for food or survival? Then that was acceptable… With some exceptions like cannibalism. I at least drew a line when it came to killing your own species

I wouldn’t care if a rapist, serial killer or child abuser were murdered… I also didn’t subscribe to the idiocy of killing a killer only making another killer. Some people deserved to die… besides, kill two killers and you’re in the positives anyway… without even mentioning the amount of lives that could potentially be saved depending on the person you killed.

But this wasn’t for food or survival, nor did my foe have any crimes that would warrant death… that I knew of. This was war, and that was all the reason there was. Did it matter if he was in the right or wrong? Perhaps to someone it might… but not to me.

Again, what mattered… was intent… So why did he have to die?

…He was an enemy, and he was out to kill me.

…Was that really all there was to it?

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

…Was more reason even needed? I don’t hate him, nor am I personally invested in punishing him for any nebulous crimes. But perhaps that too is the wrong thought process? I’m not killing him because I hate him…

*SPLITCH-CLANG*

…But because I care more about those behind me than I do about some random alien. And I would kill however many it took for their sake.

I looked down at my dead foe- my blade having gone through the gap in his visor before hitting the back of his helmet.

The thought of having killed someone bothered me… but not to the point of nausea or shaking… I just felt my heart pumping faster than usual, even as I calmly pulled my blade free. I looked up, and into the eyes of my mother- sitting on a pile of bound foes whose comrade I had just killed.

She gave me a soft smile while nodding slowly “Well done Ausar… But we’re not done yet.”

She moved backward to stand next to Fenris, and the bindings which had bound her captives released, as they all looked at me with indignation and hatred. Hela spoke up to them “The same deal applies to all of you, as it did to the previous; Kill him and you shall go free… fail and receive death. Now, begin!”

They didn’t hesitate to jump into action, as blades, mauls and spears were dodged and weaved through, all while I slipped into a calm rhythm… waiting to strike. They were bigger than me, stronger than me… but not nearly as fast… or as skilled.

Something rather ironic to admit when I myself had only had a very brief period of time learning to fight. But it’s not like they didn’t know how to wield their weapons… They did, but fighting me (who was around half their height) made things far more difficult. Add onto that their blind rage and desperation… and they were not nearly as threatening as a warrior with a calm mind and even temperament.

Just like the first, I saw a multitude of different openings littering every move they made, and though it took more effort… I no longer hesitated. Eight of them working together… yet they lasted not even half as long as the first.

Every weakness that I could exploit, would be- armpits, eyes, joints… one of these unfortunates even suffered a hit to the family jewels. Afterall, my blade may not go through that chainmail… but momentum certainly did, and he didn't suffer for long since the moment he leaned down in agony… was the moment my blade reached his throat.

The others went down much the same… besides the last, who was marginally smarter than the rest and decided not to lean down any further and just resort to kicking. He only took a few seconds longer… Those seconds only being used to finish him off in the same manner I did the first- with a cut to the back of the knees and a blade through the eye.

Even as I stood over him, I was thinking of ways I could improve… of areas I could have been faster or better. Stepping down off of my bloody stage, I flicked the blood off of my blade and sheathed it at my hip, before grabbing one of the larger- and far longer blades of one of my fallen foes.

The main problem I currently lacked was reach. And this blade, though heavy and cumbersome, and longer than I am tall… was wieldable, and thus would allow me far more options if I could use it properly. Only as I was reaching down did I finally snap out of the haze I’d been in during the fight.

At the moment that I reached out, I noticed the blood dripping from my gauntlet… from everything I wore, I noticed it soaking into the clothes I wore underneath, and felt it running down my skin. I noticed the opened and fear filled eyes of my felled foes… of the holes where one of their eyes should have been, yet where my blade had passed.

I saw the ground covered in the blood leaking from them, as it pooled near my feet… and I saw it all briefly overlap with that nightmare I still hadn’t forgotten. I’d felt pride in my accomplishment… felt a level of excitement at having made my family proud. All of it faded away into dread.

-Well done-

A hand dropped onto my shoulder- shocking me back into the moment. “Huh?”

Hela looked down at me with a smile “I said, well done! I knew you could do it.” She kneeled down, seemingly not caring about the blood that surrounded us, or covered me, as she gave me a hug and said “I know that for some, killing can be hard…”

I listened intently, wanting to know her thoughts. “...In a perfect world, taking the life of another wouldn’t happen… But the world isn’t perfect, and the reasons to fight and kill, or fight and die, are as numerous as the stars above. Some fight for home and family… others for glory and wealth… some for hatred and revenge. For me… I fight because it is my duty, I fight to protect you and Fenris… I fight so that I may never be the one on the other side… among the defeated.”

She pulled back a bit, and unclipped a very recognizable hammer from her belt… Mjolnir, before making sure I focused on it “See this? This is the proof of my station, of my position as the blade of Odin, and Asgard as a whole. It symbolizes the trust they have in me, the faith they have that I will fulfill my duties and destroy Asgards enemies.”

She grabbed one of my hands, and made me grab part of Mjolnirs handle. “This is why we fight. For home… for family… for duty… for the prosperity of our people.” She leaned forward so that our foreheads touched “...For Asgard!”

…

…For Asgard huh? I looked down at my hand on the hilt of Mjolnir. I’d never truly thought of myself as loyal to Asgard… or even as one of them. It was due to multiple different reasons… my rebirth in this world and feeling like an imposter, the betrayal of Hela which I still thought to be imminent… the very brief time I’d even spent there, a time which could be counted in hours, not days… and more recently, the admission of how I would be treated if they found out about my other half.

I’d come to see Asgard not as a home… but as an enemy waiting to strike. Like… a dog on a leash that would be put down at a moment's notice. I didn’t want to fight for that… for such a ‘high’ station that equated to little more than a weapon they could use and discard.

I already had my own reasons to fight. For Hela, Angerboda and Fenris. For the chance to make a difference in the future when it mattered… for a chance to carve my own path in this new life. Once more unknown to me was the fact that my eyes were glowing orange- reflecting the subtle smile on Helas face.

Asgard? Who gives a shit about them? Let them believe I kill in their name, or for their benefit. I’ll fight for what I want. Mother still kneeled in front of me, clearly waiting for me to reciprocate her gesture of allegiance… and even if I felt bad for lying, I went along with it “.....For Asgard!”

And kneeling in blood and amid a clearing of corpses… I found my reason to fight. Something I’d be willing to kill for… something I’d be willing to die for. Hela happily clapped me on the shoulder, and helped to pull me up and guide me toward a green portal leading to Hel.

She also gave me a final piece of advice as we walked “The enemies you faced today were demoralized, exhausted and weak. Not all that you face from here on out will give you such luxury… so don’t grow complacent alright?”

She looked down to make sure I got the message… and I did. Looking beyond my own fight… showed a vast field of bodies, piles upon piles of corpses that had been created from Helas battle. My own foes merely being the chaff she had chosen as stepping stones for my progress.

“...I understand.” This was what I was aiming for… this was the height I would have to reach… no... I would have to go even further “...Hey Mom… can we spar a bit when we get back?”

I saw her face light up with pride and joy, as she pulled me into another hug “Of course we can!” and like that we left this bloodied occasion behind us with a smile.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Odin POV

On a branch, sitting at the edge of the battlefield… stood a raven. It had watched the battle from start to end, it had seen the smaller scale fight that the child had won… as well as the talk afterward.

Everything it saw… Odin saw. He was proud of Helas loyalty, and proud that his grandson seemingly committed with little if any hesitation. He was especially proud about the orange flash of his eyes… the godhood which he was growing closer to.

He was growing up to be a fine blade of Asgard… perhaps enough to warrant his first task? Hmm… he’d contact Hela and get her thoughts. Knowing her, she’d be happy to see how much he trusted her son.

He continued sitting there, thinking about the strength of this new piece. Of how much more he could get by using it properly… a small smile and a shine in his eye being the only indicators of the greed flowing through him…