Loki pressed the scepter to Ryuuto's chest again, voice sharp with command. Nothing in Ryuuto's eyes changed. Panic flickered across the trickster's face.
Ryuuto tapped the metal with a lazy finger. "You should know better, Loki," he said. "When you tried to mess with Iron Man, his arc reactor blocked you. You need a direct line to someone's heart. Natasha gave me a mirror—keeps prying things off my pulse. If you want to try again, take the mirror out of my pocket first. Be safer that way."
Loki's grin fell. The god had just discovered he'd been outplayed.
Ryuuto smiled and, with the scepter in hand, hauled Loki up out of the cave like a towel. Back on the cliff, another shadow moved into view—Thor, Mjolnir clenched like a promise.
"I'll be taking Loki and that scepter back to Asgard," Thor boomed, the sea wind whipping his cape.
"You can take the prisoner," Ryuuto said, tilting the scepter in Natasha's direction, "but the scepter stays with me."
"That artifact does not belong to Midgard. Hand it over," Thor demanded, stepping forward.
Natasha moved between them, trying to calm the tension. Ororo Monroe hovered nearby, eyes storm-pale, ready to intervene.
"This isn't Asgard's to claim," Ryuuto said coolly. "Loki got it from the Zetarites originally. If anyone's due return, it's them. But a weapon that can seize hearts can't be left with tyrants—only someone strong enough to resist should keep it."
Thor's jaw tightened. "Then we contest it! Winner takes the scepter."
"Perfect," Ryuuto answered, cracking his knuckles.
Natasha braced. Ororo floated higher, lifting gusts under her feet. Loki watched, eyes burning with hatred. The ocean churned like the drum of war.
Thor swung Mjolnir and thunder flared—instant, colossal. Ryuuto's body blurred; he moved like wind and painless steel, closing the distance in a blink.
Physique — Leaf Hurricane!
His kick sailed toward Thor's chest, but Thor reacted with the speed of storm-forged gods. Mjolnir rocketed up from under his stance and slammed into Ryuuto's incoming foot. Lightning screamed through the air, searing Ryuuto's limbs and snapping him off balance. He flipped backward and spat saltwater from his mouth. No underestimation: Thor was terrifying.
"First to fall loses!" Ryuuto grinned despite the shock.
"Then fall!" Thor answered with a roar, and raised Mjolnir to call the sky.
Black clouds crawled across a blue day. The sun dimmed as a hundred bolts braided into a single, holy torrent aimed straight at the cliff. Ororo's eyes whitened—this weather was on Thor's scale.
"Don't interfere—this is between me and him!" Ryuuto snapped, voice sharp. Ororo hesitated, but the storm-sent wind had already lifted her; she drifted up anyway, gripping the air and eyes like polished moonstones.
Ryuuto slammed his palms to the ground and channeled everything he had. "Earth Style — Geodynamic Core!"
The cliff split. Plates of rock and soil shuddered, then rose, massive terraces levitating thirty meters above the waves. A chasm yawned between them—Ryuuto's arena carved from the earth itself.
"Ororo! Lift us!" Natasha called, and Ororo answered, wind and grace carrying her and Natasha to hover level with the floating slabs. They watched, breaths caught, as Thor and Ryuuto circled on the suspended earth.
"Lightning will fry you!" Thor shouted. The bolts converged until the air hummed with raw power—three times the strike Ryuuto had faced before. Ordinary flesh would be pierced and charred.
"Think I only have this?" Ryuuto countered, a calm, dangerous smile spreading. He had more than ground tricks; he had layers of skill and odd, fused strengths that didn't behave like any single power. Thor's confidence was reasonable—he was a god of thunder—but overconfidence is a blade with a brittle edge.
Thor bellowed and unleashed the storm—crackles crawled across that floating island, white light painting everything. Natasha and Ororo shielded their eyes; the brilliance was a living thing.
Ryuuto closed his fists. The cliff thundered. He waited for the perfect opening, then vanished into motion—dancing between arcs of lightning, bending earth and momentum as if reading a secret in thunder.
The duel had become less about raw force and more like two elements testing their limits: storm against core, hammer against a fist that could bend the ground. Each collision sent shivers through the suspended slabs; pebbles turned to meteors and fell in glittering, dangerous showers.
Down below, Loki watched and schemed. The scepter was still in play—and whoever won would reshape the balance. Above the roar of thunder, Shion piped up in Ryuuto's head, deadpan and amused.
[Ding! Combat Log: Divine-Level Opponent Engaged]
Shion: "Oho, beating up thunder-gods now? Host, careful you don't get fried. Optional tip: dodge less theatrically and more purposefully."
Ryuuto smirked even as lightning crawled across his skin. "Got it, Shion."
The cliff trembled. Both fighters readied for the next violent exchange—a clash that would decide who kept the scepter and, for the moment, whose rule would move the world.