Chapter 74 74: Dinner and a Show
Inside the cavernous Royal Banquet Hall of the Golden Palace, the atmosphere was already one of deafening, bustling excitement.
High above the marble floor, the massive, sixty-foot-tall vaulted dome was dotted with glowing runic lights, illuminating the entire hall as brightly as midday. Hundreds of Asgardian warriors sat crammed around massive, long oak tables, raising heavy horn cups overflowing with golden mead, cheering boisterously. The chaotic sounds of clinking tankards, roaring laughter, and ancient drinking songs rose and fell in waves, threatening to literally blow the roof off the palace.
Logically, a heavy shadow should have been hanging over the banquet. Thor had personally smashed the indestructible Rainbow Bridge, and the second prince of Asgard, Loki, had tragically fallen into the void with his fate unknown.
However, the apocalyptic Destroyer crisis in New Mexico had been resolved, the catastrophic genocide of Jotunheim had been averted, and most importantly, Thor had finally shed his reckless arrogance and demonstrated the true, responsible heart of a king. To the fiercely martial Asgardians, these victories were more than enough reason to aggressively raise their glasses in celebration.
Mira sat comfortably on a padded bench directly beside the royal high table. She was holding a beautifully crafted, silver cup of mead that Queen Frigga had personally poured for her, taking small, appreciative sips.
The sweet, golden liquid dissolved instantly on her tongue, carrying a rich, mellow malt aroma and a perfectly balanced, fiery kick of alcohol. The vintage quality was at least ten times better than the random bottles of mead she had swiped from the kitchens earlier.
Frigga sat gracefully beside her. Every few minutes, the Queen would lean over and casually add a prime cut of char-grilled Asgardian beast meat, or a handful of sweet, glowing alien berries to Mira's plate. The motherly tenderness in Frigga's eyes practically overflowed; she looked exactly as if she were happily feeding her own long-lost teenage daughter.
"Drink slowly, child. This royal mead has an incredibly strong kick to it; do not let yourself get drunk," Frigga couldn't help but smile and offer a gentle warning as she watched Mira take another massive gulp. The Queen reached out and delicately brushed away a few breadcrumbs that had fallen into Mira's silver hair. "Mortal children from Midgard such as yourself rarely have the constitution to handle such potent Asgardian liquor, correct?"
"Oh, it's totally fine! This wine is super sweet, it honestly just tastes like a fruit beverage," Mira offered a cheeky, completely unbothered grin. She immediately stuffed another massive piece of roasted meat into her mouth, her cheeks bulging comically like a starving little hamster.
In her previous life on Earth, Mira had been a surprisingly capable drinker. But now that her consciousness was downloaded into a biomechanical Siren chassis, the concept of "getting drunk" was impossible. Her cybernetic filtration systems processed pure alcohol exactly the same way they processed plain water. Forget a single silver cup—even if Mira chugged every single barrel of mead currently sitting in the banquet hall, her processors wouldn't feel the absolute slightest hint of intoxication.
Just then, a massive, towering figure reeking of strong alcohol and roasted meat rushed over aggressively. He slammed a colossal, oversized horn cup onto the oak table with a deafening clatter that made the food on Mira's plate literally jump into the air.
It was Thor.
The God of Thunder had already stripped out of his heavy silver battle armor and was dressed in loose, comfortable Asgardian civilian clothes. His long blonde hair was a chaotic mess, his cheeks were flushed red from the heavy drinking, and his blue eyes were completely overflowing with desperate curiosity.
He leaned in extremely close to Mira, his massive frame blocking the light. He spoke boisterously, his booming voice nearly drowning out the chaotic noise of the entire banquet hall.
"Mira! Tell me the truth! What exactly did my Father discuss with you out there by the gates?!"
Thor furiously scratched his messy hair, looking completely and utterly bewildered. "My Father has always been incredibly haughty and impossibly strict. Forget ordinary mortals from Midgard—even the sovereign monarchs of the other realms rarely warrant his personal attention! Yet, not only did he not punish you for illegally hacking into our Royal Library, he explicitly ordered me that from this day forward, you are Asgard's most honored VIP guest! He even permanently revoked the security clearance on the archives just for you! This is absolutely ridiculous! What kind of spell did you cast on him?!"
Just twenty minutes ago in the royal chambers, Thor had been aggressively, ruthlessly chewed out by Odin for nearly an hour. From his unauthorized invasion of Jotunheim that triggered a diplomatic war, to his catastrophic smashing of the Bifrost that severed Asgard's connection to the Nine Realms, to his tragic failure to keep Loki from falling into the abyss—Odin had ruthlessly reprimanded him for every single tactical failure.
But immediately after the screaming match ended, Odin had abruptly shifted his tone and specifically, firmly commanded Thor to ensure he treated Mira Vale with the absolute highest degree of respect in the future, forbidding any Asgardian from showing her the slightest neglect. He even officially granted her unlimited, unescorted access to Asgard's core magical archives.
This total, illogical reversal caused Thor to rack his brain to the point of a migraine. He simply could not understand what kind of political leverage Mira had over the All-Father.
Hearing Thor's desperate interrogation, Mira nearly spat a mouthful of mead directly into his face.
She couldn't exactly look Thor in the eye and casually say, 'Oh, nothing much. I just chatted with your dad about how your entire realm is prophesied to be violently incinerated in an apocalyptic event called Ragnarok, and I legally promised to bring my alien fleet to help you guys put out the fire when the giant demon shows up.'
If she actually said that out loud, Thor's brain would probably spontaneously combust on the spot.
She cleared her throat, swallowed her meat, and began to speak absolute, shameless nonsense with a perfectly straight face.
"Oh, it honestly wasn't much. I just casually chatted with the All-Father about the local customs and cuisine of Midgard, shared some interesting mythological stories from the deep sea, and we conveniently engaged in a highly intellectual debate regarding the thermodynamic laws of Asgardian runic coding. Your dad simply realized I was a once-in-a-generation, hyper-intelligent tactical prodigy, so he decided to grant me some VIP VIP networking privileges. It's a completely reasonable academic exchange, don't you think?"
"That is it?!" Thor stared at her, his blue eyes wide with blatant skepticism. He clearly didn't believe a single syllable she just spoke.
But when he leaned in to press the interrogation further, Mira simply grabbed another massive piece of roast meat, shoved it into her mouth, and aggressively focused on chewing, absolutely refusing to utter another word no matter how much he begged.
Thor could only sigh in profound helplessness. He picked up his massive horn cup, took a deeply depressed gulp of mead, and stumbled away, muttering aggressively under his breath, "There is absolutely, definitely more to it... My Father would never grant unlimited archive access just to discuss the weather in the ocean..."
As the night wore on, the atmosphere of the royal banquet grew more and more chaotic and enthusiastic. The warriors of Asgard had begun to drunkenly hook their arms around each other's shoulders, loudly belting out off-key, ancient battle songs.
Volstagg was currently gnawing on an entire, massive roasted beast leg, his thick beard completely dripping with savory grease. Fandral the Dashing was leaning against a golden pillar, holding a delicate wine cup and smoothly flirting with a group of giggling Asgardian maids. Hogun the Grim was quietly leaning against his chair in the corner, rhythmically flipping a throwing dagger between his fingers, his sharp gaze occasionally sweeping across the banquet hall entrances, maintaining his strict warrior's vigilance despite the celebration.
Not long after, Odin, leaning heavily on the Eternal Spear, stood up from the high table. He gave a slight, majestic nod to the noisy, celebrating crowd, and slowly turned to leave the hall.
Seeing this, Thor immediately put down his drink and hurried to follow his father out the heavy oak doors. Clearly, the King and the Crown Prince had much more critical, depressing matters to discuss in private—the tactical search for Loki's body, the impossible engineering required to repair the Bifrost Bridge, and the impending geopolitical chaos of defending the Nine Realms without their primary transit system.
As soon as the two primary authority figures left the room, the suffocating royal protocol vanished, and the atmosphere in the banquet hall instantly became even more relaxed and rowdy.
Mira was currently looking down at her plate, deeply studying a glowing, bioluminescent Asgardian berry that looked exactly like a blueberry but radiated a bizarre, highly alcoholic aroma.
Suddenly, a crisp, heroic female voice rang out directly beside her ear.
"Lady Mira Vale."
Mira looked up and saw Lady Sif standing firmly before her table.
Asgard's most valiant, lethal female warrior was dressed in a pristine, form-fitting suit of silver and red light armor, with her signature crimson cape hanging elegantly from her shoulders. Her hand rested casually on the pommel of her double-bladed sword. Her strikingly beautiful, heroic face was completely flushed with intense curiosity and a burning, undeniable martial fighting spirit. She offered Mira a crisp, respectful nod.
"Lady Sif," Mira smiled brightly, tossing the alcoholic berry back onto her plate and waving her hand casually. "Please, sit down! Why are you standing on ceremony?"
Sif wasn't the type to be polite. She pulled up a heavy wooden chair and sat directly across the table from Mira. Her sharp, dark eyes locked onto the Siren as she immediately cut straight to the bloody point, her tone overflowing with undisguised tactical curiosity.
"I just heard a completely ridiculous rumor from the Einherjar palace guards. They claim that out in the western corridor, you violently executed a squad of five elite Frost Giants who had infiltrated the Golden Palace... and that you supposedly did it in less than ten seconds?"
Sif was undeniably one of the apex, deadliest warriors in all of Asgard. She had fought on the front lines against the forces of Jotunheim countless times. She knew better than anyone exactly how terrifyingly durable and lethal those ice monsters were. They possessed impenetrable icy skin, monstrous physical strength, and the innate magical ability to manipulate freezing temperatures.
Even for a master swordswoman like Sif, fighting five fully armed, elite Frost Giants simultaneously would require an intense, exhausting, drawn-out battle. To systematically slaughter all five of them in under ten seconds, without making enough noise to trigger the palace alarms? It sounded impossible.
"Oh, that? It was honestly no big deal," Mira waved her hand dismissively, putting on an exaggerated look of absolute boredom to brush off the achievement. "They were just a few low-level, uncoordinated grunts. I basically just swatted them away casually. It really isn't an achievement worth mentioning at a banquet."
But the exact second the casual words left her lips, a deafening, booming roar of drunken jeering erupted from the table right next to them.
Volstagg violently threw his gnawed-clean, massive beast bone onto the table. He slammed his meaty hands onto the oak wood, letting out a booming, thunderous laugh that easily drowned out the noise of the entire hall.
"Oho!! Lady Sif has finally taken a martial interest in the mysterious female warrior from Midgard! I absolutely knew it!" Volstagg roared happily. "To be able to systematically slaughter five Frost Giants without breaking a sweat? She is undeniably a top-tier, apex combat expert!"
Hearing the commotion, Fandral immediately abandoned the maids. He glided over with a smooth, charming smile, swirling his wine cup as he leaned against Sif's chair, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow at the two women.
"Well, since you are both clearly exceptional warriors of the highest caliber, why not bless us by showcasing your skills right here and now? A true Asgardian banquet is completely hollow without a friendly, honorable sparring match between champions!"
Even the perpetually silent, brooding Hogun paused his dagger-flipping. He looked over from his corner, gave a slow, respectful nod to the two women, and a distinct, rare flash of martial anticipation ignited in his dark eyes.
With the legendary Warriors Three aggressively starting the commotion, the alcohol-fueled Asgardian warriors across the entire banquet hall instantly boiled over into a frenzy.
"A match! A sparring match!"
"Let us see exactly how strong the little silver warrior from Midgard truly is!"
"Sif! Show her the true might of Asgard! Do not let the mortal guest humiliate us in our own halls!"
Deafening, chaotic cheers, whistles, and drunken jeers rose and fell like a tidal wave. Hundreds of heavily intoxicated eyes immediately locked onto Mira and Sif. The rhythmic sound of heavy boots violently stomping on the marble floor merged with the clinking of metal tankards, violently pushing the atmosphere of the banquet to its absolute, chaotic peak.
Looking at the hyper-aggressive, screaming crowd surrounding her, Mira couldn't help but press two fingers against her temples and let out a long, incredibly helpless sigh.
Good grief. The mythological stereotypes are one hundred percent accurate.
Asgardians are truly, fundamentally obsessed with martial violence. Their brains are literally overflowing with testosterone and battle-lust. They physically cannot exchange three sentences without wanting to draw swords and trade blows. They haven't even finished the first keg of banquet wine, and they are already screaming for a gladiator match.
Mira had originally just wanted to eat a quiet, high-quality meal, secretly pirate a few barrels of vintage mead to take back to Earth, and clock out for the day. But clearly, she was not going to be able to avoid participating in this chaotic circus.
"Well, you can clearly see the crowd's energy has reached the point of no return. If I refuse to fight you now, I would be ruining the entire party," Mira spread her hands toward Sif and offered a helpless, highly amused smile.
However, Mira immediately dropped the smile, her digital eyes flashing with absolute, terrifying seriousness as she laid down the ground rules.
"But let me make the ugly tactical reality perfectly clear right now, Lady Sif. My specific biological abilities are highly volatile, and they are inherently, vastly too lethal to be used against ordinary carbon-based organisms. If I utilize my powers, it is very easy for me to lose control of the output and cause a catastrophic, fatal accident."
"So, a sparring match is perfectly fine. But I absolutely will not utilize any of my superpowers. We will exclusively compete utilizing pure, unaugmented hand-to-hand combat techniques. And we stop immediately when the definitive point of victory is made. Deal?"
Mira was absolutely not joking or boasting.
With the apocalyptic Herrscher authorities she had just unlocked—whether it was instantly freezing the ambient moisture with Absolute Zero, or violently shredding atomic bonds via Electromagnetic Decomposition—if she accidentally allowed even a single microsecond of her powers to leak, Sif's biological body would be instantly vaporized, even with her enhanced Asgardian durability.
If Mira actually fought seriously and accidentally murdered Asgard's greatest female warrior in the middle of a dinner party, forget pissing off Thor and Odin—even the incredibly sweet Queen Frigga would probably go to war with her.
Hearing the strict parameters, Sif's dark eyes instantly lit up with blazing excitement.
She had honestly been terrified that Mira would simply refuse to compete out of arrogance. She was even more afraid that the mysterious girl would hold back her true combat skills out of fear of offending an Asgardian royal guard.
But as it turned out, not only did Mira confidently accept the challenge, she actively proposed stripping away all magical and technological superpowers to strictly compete in pure, brutal close-quarters combat skill. This was the exact, honorable warrior's duel Sif was desperately craving.
The straightforward, fiercely martial Asgardian woman immediately stood up from her chair.
In a single, fluid motion, Sif drew her gleaming double-bladed longsword from her waist, grabbed a heavy, reinforced round shield from a nearby weapons rack, and offered Mira a flawless, crisp Asgardian gladiator's salute.
Her voice was sonorous, echoing with absolute, undisguised fighting spirit.
"Excellent! Then we shall fight exactly upon your terms! Pure combat techniques only! We stop when the victor is undeniably proven!"
The banquet hall instantly erupted into a deafening, thunderous roar of approval.
Dozens of massive, drunken Asgardian warriors immediately scrambled backward, violently dragging the heavy oak tables and benches out of the way to clear a massive, makeshift gladiator arena in the dead center of the hall.
Volstagg was so excited he literally leaped directly onto the top of a dining table. He waved his massive arms, screaming encouragement and hyping up the crowd, looking exactly like a completely deranged, heavily bearded cheerleader.
Mira looked at the heavily armed, intensely focused Sif standing before her. She glanced around at the hundreds of screaming, bloodthirsty Asgardian warriors encircling the arena.
She couldn't help but let out a soft, highly amused laugh.
She slowly stood up from the bench, casually stretched her shoulders, and raised a challenging, highly arrogant digital eyebrow at her opponent.
Since the chaotic atmosphere had reached this point, she really didn't mind having a little bit of violent fun with the most lethal female warrior in Asgard...
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