Marvel: Silver Hand

The golden halls of Asgard rang with laughter and the clinking of goblets as Alexander sat at a grand table, surrounded by the boisterous warriors of the realm. Mead flowed freely, filling the air with its sweet, intoxicating scent.

At the head of the feast, Thor roared with laughter, slamming his goblet down hard enough to shake the table.

"Alexander! You may wield fire like a god, but can you drink like one?!"

The surrounding warriors cheered, raising their mugs in encouragement.

Alexander smirked, grabbing his goblet of Asgardian mead—a drink far stronger than any mortal brew. "Is that a challenge?"

"Aye!" Thor bellowed. "Let us see if your stomach is as mighty as your flames!"

The drinking contest began.

Goblets were drained, then refilled instantly by Asgardian attendants. The warriors cheered each time Thor and Alexander slammed their mugs down.

Alexander kept up at first, drinking deep, his divine body processing the mead faster than any human ever could.

But Asgardian mead was no ordinary drink.

As the rounds went on, his vision blurred, the room spun, and his limbs grew sluggish.

Thor, meanwhile, was unaffected.

He laughed heartily, slamming back goblet after goblet as if it were water.

Alexander gritted his teeth, refusing to lose. He raised his mug for one last round—

And immediately collapsed onto the table.

The hall erupted into laughter.

"Ha! It seems fire does not burn as hot as thunder when it comes to drinking!" Thor roared, barely able to sit straight himself.

Alexander groaned. "Gods… you win."

Thor swayed slightly, blinking blearily. "Of course I do! I am Thor!"

Then he promptly fell backward off his chair.

Alexander, barely conscious, let out a weak chuckle before slumping over, slipping into the abyss of sleep.

---

Alexander awoke groggily, his head pounding like Mjolnir itself had struck him.

He groaned, sitting up, massaging his temples.

"By Eru… remind me to never drink against a thunder god again," he muttered to Celebrimbor.

The wraith chuckled in his mind. "That was… unwise. But amusing."

After shaking off the remnants of his mead-induced haze, Alexander focused on what truly mattered.

He needed to master Eldhringr.

He made his way to the training grounds. The Asgardian warriors were already there, practicing their forms, sparring with blades, and refining their craft.

Alexander ignored their curious gazes and walked toward the section where the training dummies stood.

"We should start small," Celebrimbor advised. "You must first master control before mastering destruction."

Alexander nodded, summoning Eldhringr.

The blazing chakram-disc materialized in his palm, its edges pulsing with an otherworldly fire.

At first, he simply held it, feeling its weight.

Then, he flicked his wrist and let it hover in the air before him.

With a sharp movement, he threw it.

FWOOOSH!

The weapon spun through the air, slicing through the wooden dummies like they were nothing, leaving a trail of burning embers.

Alexander extended his hand, and Eldhringr returned instantly, hovering in his grasp.

He did it again. And again.

For hours, he refined his throws, testing angles, force, and trajectory.

By the time he had reduced every dummy to smoldering ruins, he barely even had to think—his body instinctively guiding the weapon where he willed.

But that wasn't enough.

---

Alexander turned his gaze toward the metal dummies.

Unlike the wooden ones, these were crafted from an Asgardian alloy nearly as durable as Uru metal.

They were designed to withstand the strongest warriors, making them impervious to most attacks.

Alexander floated Eldhringr between his hands, feeling its heat surge through his body.

He threw it.

A flash of fiery light.

A sound like metal screaming.

Then—

The metal dummies were cleaved in half.

The warriors nearby froze.

Even seasoned Asgardians stared in disbelief.

A weapon capable of cutting through Asgard's toughest metals?

Alexander grimaced at the attention. He hadn't meant to make a spectacle of himself.

Without a word, he took to the sky.

---

Alexander landed atop the Royal Hall, the tallest structure in Asgard.

From here, he could see everything—the golden towers, the rainbow-colored Bifrost, the endless sky above.

He sighed, leaning back, gazing over the city.

"So… what now?" he asked, speaking to Celebrimbor in his mind.

The wraith's voice was calm. "We stay. Train. Learn. Your control is growing, but true mastery takes time."

Alexander exhaled, staring at his palm. "I can feel it. Eldhringr… it's powerful, but it resists me."

"Because it is not yet yours," Celebrimbor said. "It was forged by another, wielded by another. You must forge a bond with it. Make it an extension of yourself."

Alexander nodded.

Then, with a yawn, he stretched. "Let's find a place to rest."

He took flight once more, soaring down toward the Royal Gardens.

The lush, sprawling gardens were serene, filled with ancient trees and gentle streams. He landed atop a great oak, settling into its branches.

The weight of the day settled in. His muscles ached, his mind buzzed with thoughts of mastery, power, and purpose.

But for now—

He closed his eyes, allowing himself to sleep beneath Asgard's eternal sky.