The sun hung low over Asgard, bathing its golden halls in a crimson light that shimmered across the marble streets. The sky was calm, but the air carried a quiet tension—the calm before the thunder. Thor walked slowly, his heavy boots echoing softly with each step, Mjölnir resting against his shoulder. The chains around the hammer clinked faintly, almost in rhythm with his heartbeat. Tomorrow, he would enter the arena. Tomorrow, he would fight.