Chapter 153: Racing to the Bottom

The next day, Odin sat alone upon his throne, gazing down at the empty, silent hall, lost in his own profound thoughts.

As time flowed onward, he felt more and more acutely that he was no longer the man he once was, the agonizing sense of powerlessness growing starker with every passing day. The chronic injuries accumulated across five millennia of conquering the Nine Realms had erupted all at once in his twilight years, subjecting him to boundless torment with every sunrise.

Clack, clack, clack. Frigga’s footsteps echoed softly as she walked toward him.

"Is everything settled?" Odin asked, a dull ache blooming behind his temples at the mere thought of his two heirs.

"Yes. Their injuries are not light; it will be at least half a month before they can recover," Frigga replied, a trace of lingering displeasure toward Jax and Olaf evident in her tone.

"They brought it upon themselves!" Odin showed not a shred of pity for Thor and Loki. "Remaining cooped up at home day after day, surrounded by flatterers who cater to their every whim—it has warped their judgment of their own strength. Being humbled by outsiders in the arena today is far better than being taught a harsh lesson on the battlefield tomorrow!"

As Odin’s agitation flared, his aura began to surge uncontrollably. Frigga immediately stepped forward, taking his hand to help steady his raging internal wounds.

"Put them aside for now. Your own injuries can no longer be ignored; perhaps we should bring the Odinsleep forward a little," Frigga said, looking at him with deep concern.

Odin shook his head. "No, bringing it forward is out of the question—it must be delayed instead!"

A rush of blood surged to Odin’s head, flushing his face a deep crimson. Asgard could not yet afford to be without him, especially with the time approaching for the seals to weaken once again; he still needed to carve out time to reinforce Hela’s prison.

Frigga sighed inwardly and ceased her persuasion, knowing she could never sway Odin once his mind was made up.

"How are the preparations for the loan to the Midgardians proceeding?" Odin asked after catching his breath.

"Everything is ready. We are merely waiting for them to come and retrieve it," Frigga paused slightly before continuing, "Are you certain we should lend them such vast reserves of energy? Once this energy is lent out, maintaining the Bifrost will become considerably strained."

She left the rest unsaid, yet her meaning was unmistakable. She feared that the present Midgardians might emulate their former guardian, the Ancient One, borrowing without intent to repay—or seizing what they desired by force should refusal be met.

Although Asgard, as their ally, had never fallen victim to outright plunder, they had certainly been subjected to more than a few predatory incursions. Back in the day, the Ancient One had possessed a remarkably thick skin, and there was every likelihood that such a brazen tradition had been passed down!

"We lend it!" Odin declared, showing no intention of backing down. "However, it will not be a gratuitous gift!"

"Speak with those two individuals and see if we can dispatch Thor and Loki to Midgard for a time. It would be best to utilize their hands to temper those two fools—they will never truly mature here in Asgard!"

As he spoke, Odin mentally crossed out the trials he had originally designed for Thor. Leaving aside the question of whether Thor would even be able to claw his way back to his feet within the scheduled timeframe, he simply lacked the capacity to cast Thor precisely down to Earth at present.

While the Bifrost could indeed forcefully breach Midgard’s overt defenses and reach Earth, doing so would be practically indistinguishable from a declaration of war.

"Furthermore, prepare to establish formal diplomatic relations with the Midgardians and exchange embassies. We need to deepen our understanding of our future allies."

Odin closed his eyes as he spoke. Despite the Ancient One fighting for centuries, she had never relinquished Asgard's nominal suzerainty over them, yet the current geopolitical landscape forced Odin to reevaluate and confront the true relationship between Asgard and Midgard.

The Ancient One had chosen herself a fine successor indeed…

Odin sighed once more in the silence of his heart. Regardless of the exact methods employed by Yang Qiu on that side, it was an undeniable reality, visible even to Odin, that Midgard’s strength doubled time and time again with every passing cycle.

And Asgard? Should Odin perish at this very moment, a precipitous drop in strength would be the least of their worries; if they managed to avoid plunging into civil war, Odin felt his spirit in the afterlife should be immensely grateful.

"I understand. I shall handle and follow up on these matters. You must rest properly; Asgard cannot do without you now," Frigga said, gripping Odin’s hands tightly.

During this era of Odin’s decline, Frigga had no choice but to bear the banner of the Queen, shouldering burdens and resolving crises for both him and Asgard, offering every ounce of her strength.

Meanwhile, within the medical ward, Thor and Loki lay upon two adjacent beds.

Thor stared blankly at the ceiling, his eyes reflecting the image of that fateful streetlamp. For as long as he had lived and grown, aside from that one reckless attempt to challenge his father, he had not been beaten so thoroughly in an age.

Especially considering that this humiliation had been dealt by a Midgardian whom he had previously looked down upon, the psychological blow to Thor was immense—one could practically calculate the area of his psychological shadow.

Loki, on the other hand, was faring slightly better. He was accustomed to swallowing insults; lacking a divine artifact like Mjolnir, Loki’s raw combat power could not even rank within Asgard’s first tier.

Unless granted sufficient time to prepare his sorcery, he could barely scrape into the upper echelon. Normally, relying on magic allowed him to bully his elder brother, but upon the arena stage, those unsparing Einherjar warriors were far more formidable than the dense and straightforward Thor.

Moreover, there was a matter weighing far more heavily on Loki’s mind than their defeat in the arena.

Submerged within the restorative fluid, Loki slowly rotated his right hand. A faint, biting frost seeped forth from his veins, freezing the healing liquid in the immediate vicinity of his palm.

How… do I somehow resemble those Frost Giants?

"Loki, what are you thinking about?" Thor asked in a low, muffled voice.

"Nothing of consequence," Loki replied, lowering his hand and turning his head away.

Such a golden opportunity to leap ahead of his brother, and he had failed to seize it. Thor had handed him the chance on a silver platter, yet he himself had fallen short!

Furthermore, he might well be branded with the label of foolish overambition. Still, it mattered little; Asgard had only two heirs. Aside from Thor, there was only him. Standing one step behind Thor or a thousand steps behind him amounted to precisely the same thing.

"Tell me, how could that person be so terrifying? Could that streetlamp he wielded be some kind of divine artifact as well? Was Father intentionally having him put us in our place?"

Thor continued, the mere recollection causing a sharp, throbbing pain to flare across his scalp—that lesson had certainly been delivered quite literally.

Loki ignored him, though Thor was well accustomed to his younger brother’s introverted nature.

"Tell me, were you defeated by him as well? Perhaps next time we should switch opponents. I have a feeling that large brute who sat behind him at first might be a bit easier to bully."

Thor was referring to the somewhat simple-minded Olaf. According to Asgardian unwritten rules, the one who walked at the very front of a formation was invariably the strongest.

Loki let out a cold laugh. He could not be bothered to enlighten Thor; he devoutly hoped that the moment Thor’s injuries healed, he would charge straight at that Olaf and receive another thorough beating, thereby plunging Thor even deeper into disgrace.

In any case, the succession in Asgard was simply a race to see who was less incompetent. Loki only needed to appear slightly more competent than Thor.