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I asked chatgpt to "tell a short story about a valkyrie who defeats her foe by inflating him." This is what I got: 

In the shadowed alleys of modern-day Minneapolis, Freya Sturluson, a Valkyrie and private eye, pursued a foe unlike any she had faced before—a dark sorcerer who fed on the fear of the city’s inhabitants. This sorcerer, Malrik, had been terrorizing the innocent, growing stronger with each act of cruelty.

Freya’s heart pounded as she confronted Malrik in an abandoned warehouse. His gaunt frame was wrapped in robes that seemed to shift like living shadows, and his eyes glowed with malevolent intent.

“You should have stayed away, Valkyrie,” Malrik hissed, his voice dripping with venom. “This city’s fear belongs to me.”

Freya tightened her grip on her sword, runes etched into the blade shimmering with divine power. But she knew brute force alone wouldn’t be enough against a sorcerer of Malrik’s caliber. She needed a different approach.

Malrik began chanting, the air around him crackling with dark energy. Freya’s mind raced. Then, she remembered an old Norse spell, one her mother had taught her long ago—a spell that could manipulate the very air within a person’s body.

With a calm breath, Freya sheathed her sword and focused on the runes inscribed on her armor, channeling her magic. As Malrik raised his hands to unleash his dark power, Freya whispered the ancient incantation.

The air around Malrik began to stir unnaturally. He paused, eyes widening in surprise. The stirring intensified, and suddenly, Malrik gasped as he felt his chest tighten. His hands clawed at his throat as if trying to dispel the magic, but it was too late.

Freya watched, her expression steely, as Malrik’s body began to bloat. His limbs swelled grotesquely, his robes tearing at the seams. He tried to cast a counter-spell, but his voice was choked off by the pressure building within him. The fear he had sown was now turning inward, inflating his very being with the essence of his own dark magic.

Malrik’s eyes bulged in terror as his body continued to inflate. In a final, desperate attempt to stop the inevitable, he reached out towards Freya, but his hand was too swollen to grasp anything. With a muffled cry, Malrik’s body expanded beyond its limits, and with a thunderous pop, he burst into a cloud of black smoke, leaving only tattered remnants of his robes behind.

Freya stood amidst the dissipating smoke, her breathing steady as she whispered a prayer for Malrik’s soul. She knew that even the wicked deserved a chance at redemption in the afterlife. But here on Earth, justice had been served.

She walked out of the warehouse, the city’s night air cool against her skin. The darkness that had plagued the streets had lifted, and Freya, the Valkyrie who had turned her foe’s own malevolence against him, knew her work was far from over.