The virtual Valhalla dissolved like mist, and reality snapped back into place. They were back on the dusty Midgardian street, but the atmosphere had shifted. Thor remained on his knees, his eyes vacant, staring at the sand as if he could still feel the cold bite of the steel that had just severed his head.
"I... I lost?"
Even knowing the death was a simulation, the absolute precision of the strike had shattered his spirit. He had been outmatched in the one arena he considered his birthright.
"The oath is witnessed," Emrys's voice cut through Thor's shock. The Rogue Trader stood over him, cleaning a speck of dust from his sleeve with infuriating calm. "By the laws of your own father, Thor Odinson and Heimdall of the Bridge... you are now my property."
The word "property" hit Thor like a thunderclap. He, the Crown Prince of Asgard, reduced to the status of a Midgardian thrall—and all under the watchful gaze of the All-Father.
Thor's pupils turned bloodshot. His knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists, the veins on his forehead throbbing with a pressure that threatened to burst. He looked like a man on the precipice of a murderous frenzy.
Emrys remained unmoved. "What is it, Prince? Does the God of Thunder intend to break a vow sworn upon Gungnir? Will you add 'oath-breaker' to your list of failures?"
Thor's jaw worked, his teeth grinding together so hard they threatened to crack. The sharp metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he bit his own gums, the pain the only thing keeping his rage in check.
"No!" Heimdall suddenly roared, stumbling forward. The Gatekeeper's face was a mask of indignity. "Mortal, you go too far! You humiliate a Prince! You humiliate Asgard itself! To claim the heir of Odin as a slave is to invite the destruction of your world!"
"Is that so?" Emrys looked up at the sky, which remained mockingly clear. He turned a half-smile toward the charred guardian. "Tell me, Gatekeeper—who truly humiliates Asgard? The one who keeps a sacred oath, or the one who whimpers for mercy after losing a duel he himself proposed?"
Heimdall stammered, his face flushing. The logic was inescapable in warrior culture, but the consequence was unthinkable. "Do you not understand the gravity of your actions? If you force this, I guarantee Asgard's fleet will descend and burn Midgard to ash!"
"Quiet, dog," Emrys snapped.
The Rogue Trader didn't even turn around. He simply flicked his hand, and a massive psychic concussive wave slammed into Heimdall's chest. The Asgardian was hurled through the air like a ragdoll, smashing into a brick wall ten meters away.
"Flatten Midgard?" Emrys sneered, walking toward the groaning guardian. "Go ask Odin if he dares. This world is under the protection of the Sorcerer Supreme, and she has little patience for the tantrums of a guard dog. If you utter another threat, I'll take your head off for real."
The sheer, cold tyranny in Emrys's gaze made Heimdall's blood run cold. He realized with a jolt of terror that this man wasn't bluffing. He didn't fear Odin. He didn't fear the Bifrost. He was a creature of a different, darker breed of war.
Emrys turned back to the kneeling prince. "I asked you a question, slave. Do you have an objection?"
Emrys was poking the bear, waiting for Thor to snap so he could break him again. But Thor's reaction was unexpected. The prince took a long, shuddering breath and slowly nodded.
"No objections," Thor said, his voice quiet but steady. "I lost. I swore the oath. I am a man of my word... I am your servant."
"Lord!" Heimdall cried out from the rubble, his voice filled with despair. The Prince of Asgard had just surrendered the dignity of the throne to a Midgardian scavenger.
"I am Thor Odinson," Thor said, standing up and meeting Emrys's eyes with a newfound, somber dignity. "I did not lose because of magic. I lost because of my own pride. I will bear this shame until I earn my redemption."
"Not bad," Emrys raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "Perhaps there's hope for you yet. You recognized your failure faster than I expected."
"I am not an idiot," Thor spat through gritted teeth, though he didn't move to strike.
"Good. Since you're being honest, I'll offer you a glimmer of hope," Emrys said, his tone shifting back to that of a merchant. "I will give you three months. During that time, you have three opportunities to challenge me. If you win even once, I return your freedom, your hammer, and your friend's steel."
Thor's eyes ignited with a sudden spark of competitiveness. "You mean it?"
"I do. But there's a catch," Emrys smiled, the look of a fisherman watching a leviathan take the bait. "For every challenge you lose, you owe me a favor—a debt beyond your service. And if you fail all three, you still go free, but your 'ransom' will be paid in Asgardian secrets. Deal?"
"Deal!" Thor didn't hesitate. He was a warrior; he believed in the comeback.
Emrys watched him, mentally ticking off the boxes of his plan. He didn't want a slave; he wanted an asset. He wasn't just trading with Odin; he was positioning himself to be the man who restructured the power of the Nine Realms.
Odin thinks I'm just a greedy merchant, Emrys mused, looking toward the horizon. He thinks he's using me to train his son. But he doesn't realize that I've seen the end of this story. I'm not just training a King; I'm building the first Legion of the Imperium in this galaxy.
"Come," Emrys commanded, turning toward the diner. "We have work to do. And Thor? Clean the sand off your hammer. You're the one dragging it now."