The flames of war burned across the borders of the Nine Realms, and the blood of gods rained down, dyeing the plains of Miðgarðr red.
When the losses of gods and warriors on both sides reached a critical point, and when morale and hatred peaked, the two God-Kings, always behind the scenes, finally targeted each other.
They needed a 'as expected' direct confrontation, not only to vent the anger of their peoples but also to show their strength and resolve to the other side and to all those watching this war, setting the tone for the final negotiations.
The battlefield was chosen on a barren plateau, ravaged by war and already destroyed.
The sky was low, and the clouds were thick, as if carrying the weight of the entire world.
Odin, the lord of Ásgarðr, burned with wisdom and suppressed anger in his one-eyed pupil.
In his hand was a standard spear used by the elite warriors of Ásgarðr, shining with a cold light.
He chose close combat, intending to suppress the opponent directly with the courage and strength most valued by the Æsir.
On the other side, 'Narcissus' stood quietly on the scorched earth, his dark green hair swaying slightly in the chaotic wind.
Around him, there was no dazzling weapon, only a calm aura that was one with Vanaheimr and the world.
Faced with Odin, who came with a spear, he showed no sign of battle spirit, like an ancient tree rooted in the ruins.
"Narcissus!" Odin's voice was like muffled thunder, breaking the deathly silence of the battlefield.
"Thief of power! Today, wash away the shame you have brought me with your blood!"
Before the words faded, Odin moved.
His sturdy body burst forth with astonishing speed, and the spear in his hand transformed into a silver lightning bolt, tearing through the air and aiming for 'Narcissus's' heart!
Simple, but deadly.
However, just as the spear tip was about to touch the seemingly delicate divine body, 'Narcissus's' figure blurred like a reflection in water.
The next moment, he appeared dozens of paces away, still maintaining his static posture.
Odin's one eye narrowed slightly.
He charged again, his spear sweeping across the sky, blocking all space for evasion. Fierce divine power shook the surrounding earth, cracking it like a spiderweb.
But 'Narcissus' still offered no direct confrontation.
His steps moved lightly, like a breeze in the forest, always managing to evade a fatal attack by a hair's breadth at the last moment.
His trajectory carried a strange rhythm, as if merging with the destroyed environment—not just speed, but the world itself dodging with him.
"Only evasion? Vanir God-King!" Odin let out a low roar, his offense growing more intense.
Runic runes hovered around him, granting him greater speed and power, and even causing a small zone of vibration with each swing of his spear.
Faced with this enhanced offense, 'Narcissus' finally stopped merely evading.
He raised his pale finger and placed it in the air.
In an instant, the scorched earth beneath Odin's feet activated, and countless dark green thorny vines burst from the ground, coiling around his legs like giant pythons!
At the same time, countless ice crystal blades condensed in the air with a piercing cold, shooting towards Odin's vital points from all sides!
Odin roared in anger, his divine power exploding, shattering most of the vines, while his spear spun in a circle, blocking the ice crystal blades.
But his attack was inevitably interrupted.
And this was 'Narcissus's' tactic—kiting.
He never engaged Odin directly, but engaged in long-range magical containment.
On the first day, Odin attempted to forcibly revert the space using runic magic, to lock onto 'Narcissus's' true body.
'Narcissus' interfered with the spatial structure through more subtle energy convection, causing Odin's lock to fail repeatedly, while simultaneously summoning a dark mist with corrosive energy, eroding Odin's sturdy body.
On the third day, Odin summoned two giant demon wolf phantoms to surround them.
Around 'Narcissus', a massive awakened giant tree appeared, fighting the demon wolves, while at the same time, magma erupted from the ground, forcing Odin to constantly change positions.
On the fifth day, the battle turned into a contest of patience.
Odin's offense was still fierce, but 'Narcissus' always responded calmly.
Sometimes he would trigger ley lines, creating tremors to hinder him; sometimes he would summon a gust of wind, disrupting Odin's balance; sometimes he would apply negative effects like 'lethargy' to Odin.
Odin was like a giant bear with infinite strength, constantly swatting at an annoying and agile swarm, possessing only brute force, but struggling to hit the target.
On the seventh day, the continuous fierce battle had completely transformed the terrain of the plateau, now full of deep pits and crevices.
Odin's breath was heavy, his robe stained with dust and a little blood from magic; although the wound was not serious, the irritability and divine power consumption of being unable to land a blow for so long were evident.
And 'Narcissus' still breathed evenly, as if breathing with the environment, his energy replenishment far exceeding consumption.
At sunset on the seventh day, the setting sun was like blood, reflecting the ruined battlefield.
Another futile attack by Odin was blocked by a suddenly rising wooden wall.
He stopped, did not attack immediately, and took a deep look at the figure in the distance that always kept a safe distance.
'Narcissus' also ceased all spells and calmly looked back.
They had no words.
But in that intersecting gaze, a message was conveyed:
Odin had demonstrated the courage, endurance, and runic wisdom of the Æsir king, proving that Ásgarðr was not an opponent that could be easily crushed.
'Narcissus' had demonstrated the exquisite mastery of magic and the unfathomable resilience of the Vanir god, proving that the Vanir possessed sufficient power to make Ásgarðr pay an unbearable price.
If they continued to fight, both sides might lose, forcing each other to use trump cards, but that would not benefit either side's plans.
The chips had been sufficiently displayed.
Odin slowly drove his spear into the ground, emitting a heavy thud.
The magical radiance spreading around 'Narcissus' also quietly disappeared.
This seemingly fierce God-King battle, lasting seven days and seven nights, ended abruptly and inevitably like this.
Immediately after, the news spread to both camps:
Truce. Negotiations.
The remaining Æsir and Vanir fighters, with fatigue, pain, and mixed feelings, began to disengage.
The bloody war, which had lasted so long, finally saw the dawn of its end.
And on the destroyed plateau, the figures of the two God-Kings dispersed separately.
Everyone understood that the battle on the field was over, and what lay ahead was an even more brutal negotiating table.