Thor shook his head vigorously, trying to rid himself of the outrageous thought clawing at his mind.
No! Impossible! I must be overthinking it!
Even if this man wasn't Loki in disguise, how could anyone possess such overwhelming power?
Yet, as his gaze locked on the figure's outstretched hand, the thunderous energy emanating from him, and the familiar yet alien posture, Thor's heart raced wildly.
The doubts crept back in, louder this time.
Could it really be...? No, it's unthinkable!
Suddenly, the skies above Asgard darkened further. Thick, black clouds rolled in, their edges illuminated by flashes of lightning that streaked ominously across the heavens. A low rumble, like the growl of some celestial beast, reverberated through the air.
Then came the pressure—dense and suffocating, as if the atmosphere itself had solidified.
Was it an illusion?
Thor clenched his fists, his heart pounding like a drum. No, this was real.
The world around him seemed to shift, the weight of the moment pressing down on everything.
Hela, standing across the battlefield, stared upward, her piercing green eyes wide in disbelief. A flash of lightning reflected in her gaze, revealing the thunderous aura surrounding the stranger.
Her voice trembled with a rare hint of unease. "What… What are you?"
The answer came not in words, but in actions.
Mjolnir roared to life. The hammer, which had once abandoned Thor after being crushed in Hela's grip, flew through the storm with a deafening sonic boom.
It landed firmly in the hand of the stranger.
Thor's breath caught in his throat. His mind raced to make sense of what he was witnessing.
Mjolnir… it accepted him? But how?
His gaze darted between the man and the hammer. The stranger wasn't just wielding it—he embodied its power, the storms responding to his very presence. The air around him crackled with energy so pure and intense that Thor felt insignificant in comparison.
Hela, sensing the shift in the tide, snarled in anger.
"Despicable Thor!" she spat. "You've tricked me! I should have known Odin's son was incapable of facing me alone. This was all a ploy, wasn't it? A plan concocted by that coward Odin even in death!"
Thor's despair deepened as he listened to her accusations. His fingers curled into fists, frustration and shame bubbling within him.
This isn't what I wanted! I'm not... I'm not weak!
But his thoughts faltered as he looked back at the man in the sky. Cloaked in red, surrounded by a divine aura of lightning, the stranger hovered effortlessly in the storm. He looked like a figure torn straight from Asgard's ancient myths.
Thor took a shaky breath, his voice trembling.
Maybe... Maybe this man can succeed where I've failed.
He clung to that sliver of hope. Asgard's survival—no, the survival of all Nine Realms—now rested in this man's hands.
A deafening crack of thunder split the sky. Sheets of rain poured down, drenching the battlefield in moments. The storm grew wilder, lightning streaking through the clouds like a frenzy of serpents.
Hela roared, her voice defiant even in the face of the growing storm.
"I am the goddess of death!" she screamed. "No one—not Thor, not Odin, not even the gods of old—can stand against me! Who are you to challenge me?"
The heavens seemed to answer her challenge.
"Thor."
"Russell."
The stranger's voice echoed, amplified by the storm. As he spoke his name, a bolt of lightning struck the ground behind him, illuminating the battlefield in blinding white.
Then he descended.
Mjolnir crackled with purple lightning, leaving a trail of raw energy as he hurtled toward the ground like a comet. His approach tore through the storm, parting clouds and scattering the rain.
Hela snarled, her hands glowing with dark energy. She thrust her arms upward, summoning a massive spike of black death magic. The jagged structure erupted from the ground, racing skyward to meet the descending figure.
The collision was cataclysmic.
Mjolnir slammed into the death spike, shattering it into obsidian fragments. The raw energy from the hammer continued forward, tearing through Hela's defenses like they were paper.
And then, the final blow.
Mjolnir struck her chest with devastating force, releasing a maelstrom of thunder and lightning. The sheer magnitude of the explosion swallowed the battlefield, leaving nothing but chaos in its wake.
For a moment, all was silent.
The storm began to abate, the rain easing to a gentle drizzle. Rays of sunlight broke through the clouds, illuminating the scorched earth.
Thor lowered the arm he'd raised to shield his eyes. He squinted into the aftermath, searching for any sign of what had happened.
When the dust settled, Russell stood tall in the center of the battlefield. His red cloak billowed in the gentle breeze, his posture calm and composed. Beneath his feet, the ground was scorched and molten, still cooling from the intense heat of the lightning.
Hela was gone.
Thor approached cautiously, his voice hesitant. "Is she… Is she dead?"
Russell turned to him, his expression unreadable.
"From this moment forward," he said calmly, "there is no goddess of death in Asgard."
Thor let out a shaky breath, a mixture of relief and disbelief washing over him.
----------------
To read chapters in Advance go to patreon.com/kibishi718