Thor and his companions were utterly outmatched by Surtur's flaming greatsword, Laevateinn. Each time Thor took flight to attack, he was swatted hundreds of meters, pinned to the volcano's walls like a bug in a collection.
Bang!
Whoosh—Crack!
Each strike of Laevateinn crashed like a crimson tsunami.
The heat and glare obscured the blade's form, and its fiery splashes left everyone blistered with burns.
Thor flew back, unsure how many times he'd been flung. His helmet—round, adorned with white wings he loved—was gone, likely melted into slag.
He didn't know where Loki had vanished. As usual, when the enemy was too strong, Loki disappeared.
Yet when Thor was on the verge of victory, an arrow or dagger would fly from some corner, claiming the kill.
Then Loki would steal the credit, preening before Odin or Freya, snatching Thor's glory.
Thor always let it slide, maybe roughing Loki up a bit.
Brotherly squabbles didn't weigh on him. He'd bring Loki along for the next hunt or battle.
But now, seeing his scorched, unrecognizable friends looking like coal-dusted dwarves, Thor wished Loki would stand and fight beside them. Even dying together would be glorious.
"Friends, are you alright?" Thor called, gripping Mjolnir tightly.
He'd grown accustomed to Surtur's attacks, dodging some with his keen battle instincts and quick learning.
Flying, he checked on the others.
Unable to fly, they were worse off, barely distracting Surtur with little impact.
The fire giant stood in a lava pool, bubbling molten rock too hot to approach.
Volstagg's beard was singed, his armor tattered, but his self-healing kept him steady.
"Just burns. I'm fine," he rumbled, circling the lava pool at a run.
Fandral fired arrows at Surtur's face, the most agile of them. Aside from blackened skin and minor burns, he was alright.
Hogan and Sif, however, were in rough shape. Heavy armor limited their mobility, making dodging difficult.
Hogan, shielding Sif, took the brunt of the flames. His armor fused with flesh, his gut exposed, organs nearly spilling out.
Yet he was stoic, gripping his weapon, ready to fight.
Sif had fractures and a concussion from a head-first crash. Her ears rang, vision blurred red, but she smiled faintly at Thor.
They claimed they were fine, and Thor took their word. Dodging another swing, he shouted, "Let's attack! For Asgard!"
"To die for Asgard!" the Warriors Three roared, launching their assault.
Volstagg hurled boulders, Fandral's arrows blurred, Hogan threw his flail.
Surtur laughed. The attacks burned or evaporated before reaching him.
"Hahaha, futile struggles! Die, Asgardian fools!" he mocked, raising Laevateinn to finish the jesters.
"Enough!" a flash streaked past Surtur, making him flinch. He turned toward the source.
The Bifrost's light descended, and "Odin" appeared on Sleipnir through the smoke.
Thor was one thing, but Odin was another. Even Surtur, a fire demon reborn countless times, feared him after repeated defeats by Bor and Odin.
"Surtur, your foe is me," "Odin" declared.
"You let your sons invade my palace, kill my pets, breaking our truce," Surtur said, warily raising his sword.
"Odin" didn't explain, his single eye cold. "I know your plans. You lit the war's flame first. Let them go. I'll be your opponent."
Surtur fell silent. He wasn't Odin's match—proven millennia ago. His power was lent to Vanaheim, leaving him weakened. He needed tactics.
"Odin" gave no time to think, glaring at Thor with commanding authority. "Useless son, take your friends and leave!"
"But Father, Loki—" Thor landed, flustered, scanning around.
Gungnir slammed the ground, spraying rubble. "Silence, incompetent! Clear the battlefield!"
Thor opened his mouth but said nothing, head bowed. Supporting Hogan, they slunk away.
Surtur didn't stop them, his eyes fixed on "Odin."
The enemy's dismissal crushed Thor. Was he truly lesser than Odin, ignored even by foes?
Odin didn't glance at him, staring down Surtur from Sleipnir.
The fire king stared back, their gazes a deadly clash.
No words. Just silence.
One minute, three, five—Odin stood unblinking.
"Surtur!" the giant roared.
No response.
"What do you want? Fight or not?!"
Silence.
Surtur blazed, his gathered power shaking the mountain, the chamber's heat soaring.
"Odin" faded, his colors dimming, golden armor and Gungnir melting like wax.
Surtur realized it wasn't Odin—a trick.
His sword swung, shattering the illusion into mist. "Loki! You wretched whelp! I'll kill you!" he bellowed.
Loki, Thor, and the others fled as the volcano erupted behind them, raining fire.
"He's shouting your name. What did you do?" Thor asked, dejected from Odin's scolding.
Loki's lips twitched, a half-smile forming. He touched his sharp chin, evading the truth. "You misheard. I was outside the cave. Why call me?"
At the critical moment, Loki used his magic. Ice and water in the volcano created steam.
With Freya's Vanir magic, the vapor formed a grand illusion, mimicking light and shadow, subtle enough to fool Surtur.
A large ice block sustained the illusion for minutes, enough to pose as Odin, save Thor and his fools, and mock Thor in the process.
Surtur, cursing in his palace, had just caught on.
No matter. Many cursed Loki, yet he thrived.
"Ugh, I failed my mission, and Odin scolded me. Back in Asgard, I need a drink," Thor said, accepting Loki's dodge.
His mind was on rest and ale, nothing else.
Loki grinned, eyeing the Warriors Three. "Didn't someone say they'd take Surtur's head? Ended up swinging at air."
Volstagg, carrying Hogan, grumbled, "While we fought the fire giant, what were you doing?"
Saving your lives, idiot, Loki thought, but didn't say. Admitting he posed as Odin would send these dung-brained fools charging back.
That wouldn't do. This outcome was fine. If the Asgardian trio died, life would be dull.
To Volstagg's taunt, Loki smiled faintly. "Oh, drinking, enjoying the view."
"You—" Fandral started, furious, ready to argue.
Loki's eyes turned icy. "Mind your words, Fandral. You're speaking to Asgard's prince."
"…Jerk," Fandral muttered, swallowing "wild elf spawn" or "creepy bastard" after the reminder.
So frustrating—Loki even predicted his insults.
"Much better, Fandral. I thought you'd insult Odin or the All-Mother," Loki teased, chuckling.
He loved seeing others fume, powerless against him.
Thor, slumped on his goat, hefted Mjolnir. "Enough, Fandral, my friend. Loki won this round. Victors shouldn't be blamed."
"See? Thor says I won!" Loki crowed, leaning into Fandral's face with a mocking grin. If Fandral swung, Loki could get Freya to punish the trio with latrine duty.
Fandral trudged on, fiddling with his fingers, ignoring him.
"Volstagg, I won," Loki said, pointing at himself.
"Hmph!" The fat warrior turned away.
"Sif, I won," Loki taunted, prancing before her.
Sif, deafened, just looked confused.
Loki pouted, switching targets. "Hogan, you—cough, never mind, you're out cold."
His eyes gleamed. Mocking them wasn't enough. He'd make all Asgard scorn Thor, shaming him into hiding in some wilderness burrow.
Loki snickered at the thought.