Chapter 225 226: A Long-Awaited Spar

No referees, no rules, no holding back. On the Training Ground of Asgard, the sisters never held back, because holding back was a sign of disrespect to the other.

Hela made the first move. Her speed was astonishing—not the ultimate speed of Pietro, but another kind of speed, one that was deadlier and more concealed.

Like a streak of black lightning, she appeared instantly before Mavuika, her right fist cloaked in black-green energy, smashing toward Mavuika's abdomen.

Mavuika did not dodge. He raised his hand, gathering golden-red flames in his palm to catch Hela's fist.

Fist and palm collided, erupting with a dull, thunderous roar. The Impact Swirled outward, kicking up dust from the ground. Mavuika retreated half a step—not because he was knocked back, but because he stepped back himself to dissipate the force.

Hela did not retreat, but her fist was firmly gripped by Mavuika's palm, unable to move.

The corners of Hela's mouth lifted slightly. "Your strength has grown stronger again."

Mavuika released her fist. "So has yours."

Hela did not stop. She withdrew her fist, and with her left hand, conjured a short sword made of death energy, thrusting it toward Mavuika's shoulder.

Mavuika dodged sideways, conjuring a flame dagger in his right hand to parry Hela's sword.

The golden-red flames and black-green energy collided, erupting in a blinding light.

Fine cracks appeared on the ground beneath their feet—not because of how strong their power was, but because the ground of Asgard sensed their power and began to resonate.

Hela's power flowed continuously into her body from the ground of Asgard, making her stronger the longer she fought.

Mavuika's power also came from Asgard, but more so from the three divine powers fusing within him. Neither of them was using their full strength; this was not a life-or-death battle, but a spar.

But their "spar" was already enough to strike awe into ordinary Asgardian warriors.

Hela thrust over a dozen times in succession, each strike fast and fierce, at tricky angles. Mavuika parried with his flame dagger. The two moved rapidly across the center of the Training Ground, the sound of blades clashing as dense as rain hitting a roof.

Hela suddenly changed her style. The short sword transformed into a long whip—a black whip condensed from death energy—lashing out toward Mavuika's legs.

Mavuika leaped up, the long whip sweeping beneath his feet, leaving a deep gully in the ground.

Mavuika flipped in the air, conjuring two flame daggers in his hands and throwing them at Hela. Hela dodged one, raised her hand to catch the other; the flame dagger struggled in her hand for a moment before being extinguished by death energy.

"A thousand years ago, you wouldn't have dared to catch my flame dagger." Mavuika landed, looking at Hela with a smile on his lips.

Hela shook her hand, the burn on her palm healing rapidly. "A thousand years ago was a thousand years ago."

She charged forward again.

This time, she did not use weapons, but relied on pure physical strength. Her fists, knees, elbows, and feet—every part became a weapon, smashing toward Mavuika like a raging storm.

Mavuika also stopped using weapons and countered. Their fists and kicks collided in the air, emitting dull thuds.

The floor of the Training Ground cracked beneath their feet, the cracks on the walls widened, and the dome above shook.

Hela fought with increasing excitement; her eyes grew brighter, and the smile on her lips grew wider.

In the millennium spent in the Underworld, she had not truly fought anyone. Those wandering souls were too weak, those monsters too stupid, and the challengers who occasionally broke into the Underworld couldn't even defeat her guards.

Only Mavuika could make her feel pressure; only Mavuika could make her blood boil.

"Come again!" Hela shouted, her voice filled with a wild, near-feral pleasure.

She released her power with full force, black-green death energy gushing from her body like a giant dragon coiling around her.

Her hair fluttered in the energy, and her eyes turned a pure, vibrant green—no pupils, no irises, only two orbs of Burning light.

Mavuika felt that pressure—not fear, but anticipation. He also wanted to see just how strong Hela truly was.

Golden-red flames surged from his body, colliding with the black-green energy in the air. The two colors of light intertwined, illuminating the entire Training Ground, the surrounding buildings, and the spires of the Royal Palace.

The guards in the distance stopped, looking at the pillar of light shooting into the sky. They didn't know what was happening, but the Captain recognized those two powers: the sun goddess and the Goddess of Death were sparring.

"It's nothing," he said to the guards beside him. "It is Your Highnesses practicing. Continue your patrol."

The distance between Mavuika and Hela constantly shrank. The two switched from long-range bombardment to close-quarters combat. Fists and kicks intersected, energies collided, and each Impact erupted with a deafening roar.

Hela smashed a fist into Mavuika's shoulder. Mavuika's body swayed but did not retreat; he countered with a palm strike to Hela's chest, and Hela stepped back half a step.

Neither of them stopped.

Hela's energy continued to climb; she was like a vessel that could never be filled, drawing power from the land of Asgard, growing stronger the longer she fought.

Mavuika's power, however, was more stable. His three powers complemented and supported each other within his body, like three pillars holding up a palace.

After fighting for nearly an hour, both began to sweat.

Fine beads of sweat formed on Mavuika's forehead, and his breathing was more rapid than usual. Hela's state was more pronounced; her hair was somewhat messy, her cheeks slightly flushed, and her chest heaved violently.

But both their eyes were bright.

Finally, they traded one last punch.

Golden-red and black-green light exploded simultaneously. The Impact Swirled outward, causing more cracks to appear on the walls of the Training Ground. The two were pushed apart by the recoil, standing face to face more than ten meters apart.

Then, they withdrew their hands simultaneously.

It wasn't agreed upon; it was unspoken rapport. Having fought for thousands of years, they didn't need to discuss it.

Mavuika withdrew his flames and stretched his sore shoulder joint. "Not bad, stronger than I imagined."

Hela withdrew her death energy and wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth. "So are you."

The two looked at each other for a second, then smiled at the same time.

Hela rarely smiled, but at this moment, her smile was genuine. It wasn't because she had won—she hadn't; Mavuika still held the upper hand—but because she had fought with such exhilaration, a kind of exhilaration she couldn't feel in the Underworld.

"Can you still fight?" Hela asked.

Mavuika raised an eyebrow. "You still want to fight?"

Hela flexed her wrists. "Yes, but that's enough for today."

She walked to the edge of the Training Ground, sat on a Shitou, and looked up at the starry sky above.

The stars of Asgard were much brighter than those on Earth; each one was as brilliant as a diamond. She hadn't seen stars like this in a long time. In the Underworld, there were no stars, only endless darkness.