“Champion’s greatest power, like those of his brothers, is in what he can make happen through the influence he has, rather than his own might. He is certainly formidable on countless levels. But the amount of power he can bring to bear on someone or somewhere with a word or two is far more dangerous than he is.

“Furthermore, he has no overt malice. He loves to fight, and he wants to find worthy fights. It is the reason he exists. However, he also does not want to LOSE that fight, and so the rules of his competition favor him and the expertise he has built up over the eons. That being said, outside those rules he is still fantastically dangerous. In this hall, probably only you and your Son would be a true danger to him, All-Father,” I bowed again.

“My son’s showing in his tournament was lacking even in his own eyes, Lady Dynamo.” Nobody was going to say that to All-Father Odin, but I could tell the fact stung all their pride, not just Thor’s. “Yet thou doth claim him to be so dangerous?”

He was testing my discretion now. “All-Father, the rules of the tournament were severely stacked against your son. Prince Thor is a god of storms and thunder, of the might of nature unleashed. In his hands he wields perhaps the greatest weapon of the Shining Kingdom, and with it he has cast down foes mortal and immortal for centuries.

“There was no power of nature, no great divine weapon, and no monstrous foes in the Colosseum. There was Thor facing his equals in strength, using a style of battle he is proficient in, but not a master in, against those who were indeed masters, and the Champion is a Grandmaster of such things and more.

“Perhaps when Prince Thor is renowned in the Nine Realms for pummeling his foes down with his fists and finishing them with a high kick to the jaw, he should go and see about setting matters straight on the Champion’s List. I expect Mjolnir will be very impatient for him to get over things before then.”

There were rumbles of quiet laughter all around, boots lifted in jest, and even Thor smirked slightly at the image, clasping his renowned Hammer.

“And his showing in the weapons competition?” was the quiet, cool follow-up, silencing everyone again.

“Mjolnir was once again not permitted. Prince Balder there is acknowledged as one of the top three swordsmen in the Shining Realm, I believe. Give him a common sword, and give Prince Thor a common hammer. I expect that in a duel we will have a victor rather quickly, despite him not being Prince Thor’s equal in strength or power.

“There are nigh unto a hundred warriors here with experience far greater than I, All-Father, and those who have measured them in equal number. I imagine any and all of them know the way some weapons are superior to others. A hammer is not a dueling weapon, unless backed by such might that it makes such a thing irrelevant.

“If you want to cut down humanoid sapients in personal combat, the finest weapon to use is a sword. If you want to fight monsters, or gather in armies, use a spear and a shield. If your enemy is armored to the gills... then you use an axe or a hammer or a mace. Are the principles of such combat different among you? Because they bore out among the warriors of the Colosseum, who are of similar strength and skill to the warriors of Asgard I have seen.”

He was using this chance both to chide his son and to silence any criticism of his performance, and as a warning to his warriors of both other species... and the potential danger of mortals.

The warriors and women around were nodding at my words, understanding the point. While it would have been glorious if he had triumphed given such handicaps, he had not, and yet still placed well, given everything.

“Explain thy own success in this... Contest of Champions, then.”

“Mmm. I cheated, All-Father,” I stated firmly.

His sole eye widened slightly, and there were guffaws all around at my words. While they loved a straight-up fight, I was a mortal, and dealing at that level, I was expected to cheat. Cheating well and proudly was a sign of a cunning warrior, too!

“Explain thee then, to Us.”

“Certainly, All-Father. For starters, I’m neither this tall, nor this strong.” I reached back, pulled Function out from under my hair, and held him out. Particle effects flared and magic flowed into the Rod, and I lost most of a head in height, lots of muscle in my build, and a great deal of weight. “I’m sure you all recognize Asgardian Magic. This little toy basically gives me the strength of an Elite Asgardian.” I flicked up a Holo as they all looked at my much-less-Amazonian physique. There was a listing of numbers, Strength/Might at the top, and my name was next to 50, right around 10-12 tons lifting.

Average Might/Asgardian Female was next to 25 tons (54-55). Average Might Asgardian Male was next to 30 tons (56-57). Average Might Asgardian Elite Warrior was next to 45 tons (58-59), just below where 50 Tons was emphasized.

I pulled the power back in, and grew again to the height and build they were familiar and comfortable with. My name popped right up to 55 (60).

I popped my neck loudly. “From there, since I could not employ my lightning, I bound it to my Bands of the Titan to increase my Strength by ten, quadrupling it.”

Lightning exploded up from my hands, gathered around my biceps in bands of hot arclights, very eye-catching, drawing some approving attention for the showiness of it.

My name also shifted up again, to 65 (70). Thor’s name was sitting at 67, Champion’s at the same.

“And then I Powered up my bones.”

For just a second, magic flickered inside my skin, crystal seemed to gleam, Runes on bone.

My name moved up to 70 (75). The warriors all called out in disbelief that I was now stronger than Prince Thor.

“Prince Thor has the ability to use his godforce to elevate his strength to incredible levels... but that is in his element, with his Hammer in hand, and confronted by equally absurd levels of strength in an enemy. He had neither the enemy nor the conditions to do the same,” I went on before anyone could speak. “At this moment, I am roughly as strong as eight of the experienced noble warriors behind me. I am definitely faster than them, and I have an ability they do not, the ability to Attract and Repulse.”

I pulled my adamantium fists out of my Masspack. There were murmurs of recognition and explanation from those who’d seen me wearing them to the others.

I held up the quasi-metal bracers that would cover my forearms and fists. “These are adamantium bracers. If you have not heard of the metal, it is of mortal invention, and compares very favorably to uru and the adamant of the Olympians in its basic strength, durability, and unyielding nature. Unfortunately, it cannot be enchanted by magic... but since magical Weapons and Armor alike were forbidden in this Contest, that was for the better.”

I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt, and ignited my Philosopher’s Might Tats. Five softly glowing long and short bars of white light lit up.

My name on the holo list of Might advanced down to (95*). The warriors there choked on seeing it.

“For purposes of matching strength against another, and hitting things, I was sitting at a 95.”

I slapped on the bracers, not needing to tie them down, and brought up my fists. The 75 and 95 positions of my name mostly faded from sight. Who could tell I had done such things?

“And then I played the bully and cheated. Master Hogun, come up and give me a swat of your Mace.”

My erstwhile date sprang to his feet without hesitation, his famous Weapon in hand. Silent and grim, he charged across the floor, and slammed it down at me.

I blocked it idly with my left forearm, and the crash of its impact stirred the floor, which was fortunately reinforced by Odin’s will. Hogun was definitely not holding back.

He pulled back... or tried to. He was shocked despite himself when his Mace stuck to my arm, and instead of pulling back, I effortlessly dragged him forward and slapped my palm onto his face, lifting him off the floor before he could blink.

“Master Hogun has now been rendered unconscious,” I stated, as he let go of his Mace, which hung there on my arm. He clawed at my arm, trying to get free, and his fingers kept sliding up and down my arm, unable to even tear at my clothing. He kicked at me a few times, and I ignored them. “And this is precisely how I dealt with my opponents.”

Suddenly, his hands stopped moving, now stuck to my arm. He was obviously pulling on them, but couldn’t break his hands free. His feet stuck to my belly and my thigh, and he flexed and tried to push and pull me, but my arm was not moving, nor was the rest of me.

Totally irresistibly, I pulled him in closer, and he had no choice but to bend his legs or break them. I turned him sideways slightly, and finally got a groan out of him as he twisted a bit too much for his hips to be comfortable.

“I was much stronger than they were, I was much faster than most of them, and I stuck to them. They couldn’t go gallivanting about, they couldn’t show their superior skill, they couldn’t do anything but remain stuck to me while I beat the ever-loving crap out of them. None of them had an answer to this simple tactic, and they naturally didn’t believe I was stronger than them, so it cost them.”

I whispered that I was letting him go, and he audibly sighed and stopped thrashing around. I released his legs first, setting him down as his arms popped free, and then I removed my palm from his face calmly. He looked at me for a long moment, dark eyes weighing something, and I just swung my arm around and presented his Mace back to him.

He sighed again, grabbed it as I released it, and strode away, shaking his head.

Nobody was going to believe Hogun the Grim had been playing at things.

“And that’s how I cheated, All-Father.” I bowed again.

It was a bit slow, but the laughter, clapping, thumping boots, and catcalls started up after a moment, showing clear appreciation for my tactics. It was incredibly crude, quite rude, really, and it had worked really, really well.

Odin raised his hand, and the ruckus quieted down. “For the benefit of all the brave warriors of Asgard,” he said somberly, and lifted his hand. A very precise image of Champion and me facing one another on the arena floor materialized just high enough for all the people of Asgard to see in front of me.

Like it was rehearsed, gods and goddesses alike all leaned forwards in interest.

“All-Father, please play it forward at one-quarter real speed.” My holo adjusted to a second counter, which slowed right on down.

There was only the tiniest of shifts as he made the adjustment, and then he felt me insert myself into the control of the illusion, and he let it go in some surprise.

At one-quarter speed, I went through the six minutes-some of the fight, motion by motion. I laid out my goals, the fact I knew I couldn’t win any more than they could beat a ready and aware All-Father Odin, and I described what I was doing and what Champion was doing as the rain of blows fell upon me.

They saw how Champion could break my Attract, and if he couldn’t, would use it to try and drag ME around. His heavyfoot was incredible, and when he started chaining together profound combinations and I described the effects of what he was doing, their eyes got very serious, indeed.

But I won by lasting longer than the gamblers expected, and when I laid out the odds they'd set, what I’d bet, and how much money was STILL coming in from all that, I definitely got some cheers for being a truly cunning, cheating warrior bitch.

They got a wake-up call for different types of combat that were common there, and when Odin turned his eye on his people, I found myself smiling knowingly.

Hah, he was going to do it!