The spearmen descended like harbingers of death. Their spears crackled with frozen magic, the ground beneath them groaning with every step they took.
"Eskel, with me! Steve, Natasha—support from the flanks!" Vesemir hissed.
Eskel nodded and charged, Quen shimmering around him. His blade met one of the spears mid-swing, the clash sending out a pulse that blew snow in all directions. Vesemir followed close behind, his Sign igniting a Yrden trap beneath the second warrior, slowing the creature just enough for Steve to barrel into him from the side with his shield.
The warrior growled. It hurled Steve back with supernatural force, sending him skidding across the icy ridge. Natasha moved like lightning, drawing two electrified batons, enchanted with runes courtesy of Yennefer. She struck at the creature's exposed side, the energy crackling against the armor and forcing it to stagger.
But more warriors were emerging.
The portal pulsed, and from its depths came a towering figure—the unmistakable form of Imlerith. One of the two hands of Eredin. One was a mage and the other was a muscle. And Imlerith was the one who was in Elvish steroids.
His grotesque helmet, with the grinning maw of a beast and horns curling upward like a crown, marked him like a war-god of old. His hammer, larger than a man's torso, rested on one shoulder as he surveyed the battlefield.
"So the old wolves come to play," Imlerith rasped. "Good. Let us see what's left in your bones."
Of course, Imlerith knew all about the witchers, because Geralt himself once worked for and with the Wild Hunt. Long ago.
"Eskel—fall back!" Vesemir called, realizing just how dire the situation was. But it was already too late.
Imlerith charged forward, his speed impossible for someone his size. He struck the ground where Eskel stood, sending a shockwave through the earth that threw him clear off his feet. The Witcher slammed into a boulder and didn't rise.
"ESKEL!" Vesemir roared, dashing toward him—but Imlerith intercepted. The hammer swung in a wide arc, and only Vesemir's reflexes saved his life. The head of the weapon grazed his shoulder, the impact ripping armor and sending a jolt of pain down his arm. Vesemir was lucky that the new armor was made of Vibranium, or else he might have lost his whole arm by now.
Natasha leapt in from behind, slashing at Imlerith's back—but the blow bounced off. He reached back and grabbed her mid-air, slamming her into the snow-covered earth. She gasped but managed to roll away before the next hammer strike hit.
Steve was back on his feet and threw his shield. It collided with Imlerith's helmet, staggering him for a second—but only that. The Wild Hunt general turned, eyes locking on Steve.
"A mortal with a shield. Interesting."
Steve braced himself as Imlerith charged again. Steve blocked two hits but stumbled on the third, the force knocking him flat. Imlerith raised his hammer for the killing blow.
Vesemir, bleeding and bruised, lunged forward and cast Igni point-blank at Imlerith's face. Fire exploded across the helmet, causing the monster to hiss and recoil. Natasha, now back on her feet and limping, threw another Ghost Grenade at the portal to halt more reinforcements—but the tide was already against them.
"We can't win this," she gritted out. "We need to fall back!"
"No," Vesemir growled. "Not ...."
But before Vesemir could complete his words, the thunder suddenly roared. Steve, Natasha and everyone sighed in relief once they heard the thunder. It was because, thunder normally came with another person following it.
And they were right.
From above, a column of blinding white-blue lightning struck the center of the battlefield, right between Imlerith and the wounded Vesemir. The impact sent a shockwave through the snow and ice, hurling back Wild Hunt warriors and the hounds while leaving a smoldering crater in its wake.
When the light faded, he stood there.
Cape whipping behind him, armor gleaming with divine radiance, Mjolnir clenched tightly in his hand—Thor, God of Thunder, had arrived.
"Imlerith, Liam spoke about you and so did Geralt," he said, eyes locked on the towering warrior, "you forgot to bring a bigger hammer." He had been with the whole group since the time they had come and Thor being the restless man that he is, had gone for sight seeing around.
In his words, such worlds with monsters are hard to come by and thus need the kiss of Mjolnir.
Without giving Imlerith a moment to speak, Thor hurled Mjolnir. The enchanted weapon soared through the air with a piercing scream, striking Imlerith square in the chest. The force sent the Wild Hunt general hurtling back through a frozen pillar, chunks of ice and stone collapsing over him.
Lightning danced around Thor's shoulders as he marched forward, eyes glowing with fury. Natasha gave a breathless chuckle from the ground.
"About time, Sparkles." She was really grateful. Even Steve himself was thankful that Thor was here.
Thor offered her a hand and pulled her up with ease.
"Midgard's finest still stands. I'm glad to see it."
"We're gonna need more than lightning. They just keep coming." Steve spoke. As if on cue, another rift tore open above the ridge, spinning in the air like a swirling eye of frost and death. More warriors emerged—ghostly knights and frost hounds pouring out in waves. But this time, Thor was ready.
"Then let us give them a storm," he growled, raising Mjolnir.
Lightning erupted from the heavens. Bolts streaked down and slammed into the ground, striking Wild Hunt warriors with divine precision. Frost hounds turned to ash, their howls drowned out by the thunder's fury. Thor spun Mjolnir and leapt into the fray, striking down three enemies with one swing, then vaulting skyward in an arc of electricity to crash down amidst a cluster of enemies. The explosion knocked a dozen off their feet.
Vesemir, injured but still alive, leaned against his sword and watched with a mixture of awe and gratitude.
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Read 95 chapters ahead on my [email protected]/thelightedghost