Malekith's jealousy toward Bor, and his seething hatred of Asgard, surged to its peak the moment he sensed the divine essence of Death awakening within Hela.
It enraged him. It should've been his Svartalfheim that thrived. It should've been his Dark Elf kin ruling the Nine Realms.
Bor was nothing but a cunning opportunist. Malekith had always believed that.
"Woz, can you track his location?"
As Malekith carried on a heated exchange with Hela—speaking with the arrogance of an elder about Bor, the former king of Asgard—the long-ignored Lothar silently activated his wrist device. His fingers tapped over a glowing interface as he quietly inquired.
The Dark Elf before him—this was the very reason he'd crossed galaxies to join the War of the Nine Realms: to capture Malekith and retrieve the Reality Stone, which his adoptive father Thanos desired.
Invisible waves pulsed from Lothar in all directions. Woz did its best to trace Malekith's precise location, but after three seconds, the AI was forced to admit failure.
"I'm sorry, Lord Lothar."
"Woz can only determine the general direction of Malekith's energy source. It cannot lock onto his exact position."
"Unless you can plant a micro-signal beacon directly on Malekith, Woz has insufficient data to pinpoint his true body."
Lothar remained focused on the cascading data before him, eyes locked on the shifting light screen. Then—an instant surge of danger. His instincts flared. He moved without thinking.
Bang!
Jet-black tendrils burst from beneath the frozen crystal where Lothar had stood just seconds before. Malekith, who had been reminiscing with Hela, suddenly turned his cold gaze toward Lothar, impressed by the young warrior's reaction speed.
"You're trying to track me... son of Thanos?"
Floating in a haze of shadow, Malekith made no effort to hide the murderous intent in his eyes.
It was an insult.
He was a king—the king of the Dark Elves!
More importantly, his true body was still in the sealed vault of the Aether. If that location were discovered—and Odin came with that dread armor of his—Malekith might never leave the ruins alive.
As much as he loathed to admit it, without the Aether, he could not defeat Odin at full power. That was precisely why he'd rallied the Vanir gods and the Light Elves to stand against Asgard upon his revival.
"You're just some ancient fossil—how do you even know my father's name?" Lothar raised his hand. Energy formed a circular blade, which he used to cleanly sever the writhing tendrils. He lifted his gaze toward Malekith.
"...Your body looks... suitable," Malekith sneered, tugging at the stem of a floating Dreamblossom behind him, his other hand folded behind his back.
"It might serve as excellent fertilizer for my Dreamblossom. Perhaps if I boil your flesh into a broth and pour it over the roots, it'll grow faster."
Lothar scoffed at Malekith's smirk. The dark mist swirling behind the elf king only made him more repugnant.
A sudden burst of force cracked the air. In the next instant, Lothar stood directly before Malekith, veins bulging, muscles taut. With both arms, he seized the Dark Elf's skull and unleashed a torrential surge of energy straight into Malekith's body.
"Die!"
BOOM!!
Lightning and thunder split the skies as rain poured down again. Hela stood drenched, her vision blurred by rain—and something else.
"Foolish."
Malekith's voice came from behind. Still holding the Dreamblossom as if it were a balloon, one hand behind his back, he appeared untouched.
"I am the ruler of this dark world," he said, the black fog around his lower body thickening.
"And you? Who are you? Some trickster monkey who got the better of Laufey?"
The rain turned into a deluge. Thunder flashed, illuminating the deep contempt and arrogance in Malekith's eyes.
A monstrous claw—shaped from black mist—lashed across Lothar's back, sending him staggering.
"This universe is indeed home to many powerful beings," Malekith said coolly, pointing first at Lothar, then at the severely weakened Hela. "But you two clearly aren't among them."
"'Dark world ruler,' huh?" Lothar shook the pain from his hand and stomped down on a still-writhing tendril trying to creep up his leg.
"Woz."
"Initializing micro-tracking protocol, Lord Lothar."
"Program activated. Scan complete. Twelve locations detected with power signatures matching Malekith's doppelgänger."
Lothar's eyes lit up as the data streamed across his right eye's HUD.
"What?!"
Realizing the infiltration too late, Malekith instantly severed the connection between his clone and the signal tracer embedded within.
"My father always said—battlefield intelligence doesn't come from just one source," Lothar said with a smirk, droplets flinging from his fingertips as he flicked them away. His mocking gaze made Malekith's face freeze.
Then the ground began to quake.
Terrifying beasts, born of Svartalfheim folklore, emerged from the storm. Their snarls echoed like thunder. Malekith, without the Aether fully unsealed, had summoned the most powerful horrors he could muster.
Four hundred and four beasts, each massive enough to rival Lothar in his Great Ape form. Leading them was a hulking eight-legged monster, over 100 meters tall, with grotesque pincers the color of black iron.
"Kill them both. Eat them however you wish."
With those cold words, Malekith vanished beyond the border.
ROAAAR!!!
The beasts howled in unison, their blood-red eyes locking onto two figures below—especially Lothar, whose vibrant life force called to them like a feast.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
The earth trembled beneath the beasts' march. The Asgardian soldiers, still paralyzed from Hela's earlier sealing of their life flames, had no strength to resist. They were trampled without mercy.
"NO!!"
Hela screamed as she watched her army die, frozen in helplessness. Every shattered ice sculpture was another dead soldier. All because of her mercy.
What… what did I protect?
I didn't protect anything at all…
Her voice broke into a desperate howl, but nothing changed.
No!
This isn't over!
Suddenly, she turned toward Lothar.
"Lothar! I want it!"
"Give it to me—NOW!"
Staggering, she grabbed his shoulders. Her fury and guilt twisted her expression into something savage.
"Who do you think you are?" Lothar's voice was cold as he gripped her wrist, removing it from his shoulder.
"I gave you a chance before. You threw it away."
"Woz, activate the warship's weapons. Star Annihilation Cannon—Stage Two prep."
"As you command, Lord Lothar."
Hela froze.
Above them, the black barrel of the Star Annihilation Cannon pointed directly at the battlefield.
She wouldn't die. But her army would.
All because of her.
"Enough... I yield."
Her voice, soft as a whisper, made Lothar lift his hand, halting the cannon's charge.
"What did you say?"
"I said enough. I yield." She raised her head, composed, her gaze locking with his.
Rip.
She tore a strip from her intricately etched combat suit, then snapped one of her curved horns clean off. Wrapping the horn in the cloth, she presented it to Lothar.
"You won. By Asgardian tradition—this is your trophy."
Her long black hair, once flowing down to her waist, was now cut short. Lothar looked into her eyes, read her silence, and smiled.
He accepted the horn.
A vial of green nutrient fluid appeared in Hela's hand.
"Don't use the Star Annihilation Cannon. I want to save them." She drank the fluid in one gulp, swallowing her pride with it. Strength surged through her.
"Save them?" Lothar snapped his fingers. His mood was lifted.
The warship's weapon systems activated again.
"YOU—!" Hela spun, glaring daggers.
"Relax. It's not the Star Annihilation Cannon this time." Lothar's smirk only grew sharper.
"Plasma Cannons. Obliteration Cannons. Orbital Particle Beams. Positron Cannons, and more..."
"My warship has more than just one toy."
"You offered your submission in sincerity," he said. "So it's only right I return the gesture."
Hela: "…"
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