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{Chapter: 59 - The Dark World}
Aiden stood motionless at the edge of the jagged cliff, whistling wind that screamed across the desolate chasm. Before him stretched an endless abyssâan expanse of pure, unyielding darkness that swallowed even the faintest trace of light. The void felt alive, like a slumbering beast that could awaken at the slightest disturbance. The air was heavy here, unnaturally so. Breathing felt like inhaling weight rather than air.
He narrowed his eyes. The sky overhead wasn't a sky at allâjust swirling layers of shadow that churned like slow-moving smoke, casting everything in a deep, oily hue. There were no stars, no moon, no sun. Just this eternal twilight of gloom.
This was Svartalfheimâknown to many as Warthheim, the cursed realm. Once the dominion of the dark elves, it had since become a forgotten graveyard of ambition and power. The stories told by the surviving realms spoke of chaos, war, and a relic lost in time.
Turning away from the drop, Aiden's boots crunched softly against cracked black stone as he approached a strange rock formationâa cluster of massive, jagged stones that jutted out of the earth like the remains of some fallen colossus. They seemed ancient, older than recorded history, bearing deep carvings that glowed faintly with forgotten enchantments.
Nestled between two of the slabs was a faint glowâdull at first, but intensifying the closer he drew. Red light pulsed like a heartbeat from within a cage of natural rock, rhythmic and ominous. The closer he came, the more palpable its power became, pressing against his skin like a low-frequency hum.
Aiden stopped. His breath hitched.
His eyes locked onto the glowing liquid. It was small, not much larger than a clenched fist, but it radiated power on a level he had ever felt before.
"The Aether," Aiden whispered, a faint smile curving his lips. "So you really were here all along."
It shimmered with unstable energy, like liquid fire suspended in glass, and yet it moved as if aliveâtendrils of red vapor coiling and uncoiling slowly in defiance of gravity.
According to ancient records and half-buried myths, the Aether had once been the weapon of Malekith, the Lord of the Dark Elves. In the time before light touched the Nine Realms, darkness reigned supreme, and the Aether was its championâa substance capable of bending reality, dissolving barriers between dimensions, and smothering creation itself in eternal night.
Then came the war. The Asgardians, led by Odin's father Borr, waged a brutal campaign against Malekith and his legions. The resulting conflict shattered realms and reduced entire armies to ash. In the end, the dark elves were vanquished, their race nearly wiped from existence. But the Aether, indestructible and sentient in its own twisted way, could not be destroyed.
So they buried it here, in the heart of this forsaken worldâhoping that no one, no thing, would ever be foolish or desperate enough to seek it again.
Yet here stood Aiden, daring fate.
He extended his hand slowly toward the red glow, pausing just inches away. It demanded a price.
He pulled back and frowned.
Aether was unlike the other Infinity Stones. It didn't just grant powerâit consumed. It attached itself to the host like a parasite, draining their life force in exchange of its abilities. Even one with an advanced body like hisâfortified by Extremisâwasn't guaranteed to survive prolonged contact.
"Power that kills," he muttered, rubbing his wrist.
He could already imagine the pain. The slow deterioration. Muscles decaying, bones rotting beneath a smiling, triumphant face.
But he had an edge.
The system.
With it, he didn't need to bear the full weight of the Aether's energy. He didn't need to become its puppet or container. Instead, he could store it within the system's inventory where it could be safely contained.
He wouldn't wield it unless absolutely necessary. That was his resolve.
Still, the danger wasn't just the Aether's corruptive nature. Other eyes were always watching, always waiting.
He thought of the many that had sought the Infinity Stones. Asgard's warriors would hunt him if they learned he'd found it. The mad titan Thanos, whose thirst for power had led him to devastate entire worlds, would surely come for it.
And then there was Malekith himself.
Though presumed dead, he lives and the Aether is linked to him across all forms of space and time. As long as the Aether moved, a sliver of Malekith's consciousness would remain awaken. The moment it called to him.
"If I don't flaunt it... if I don't use it," Aiden said quietly, "he shouldn't notice."
He crouched beside the stone and took a steadying breath.
Aiden stood before the pulsing, malevolent glow of the Aether. His breath caught in his throat, not from fearâbut awe. The red energy writhed within the liquid like a living entity, as if aware of his presence, as if it had been waiting for him all along. It wasn't just a source of power. It was a relic of legend, a fragment of a forgotten age, older than the universe itself.
He reached forward, slowly, fingers trembling with anticipation and the weight of consequence. The air around the liquid vibrated, warping with waves of unseen energy. And thenâcontact.
The moment his fingertips brushed the surface, the Aether erupted.
A violent surge of crimson light burst out like a solar flare. The energy wrapped around his hand, coiling up his arm like a serpent and sinking its venomous fangs deep into his core. Every muscle in his body tightened. Pain exploded through his chest like a spear.
His eyes widened. "Shit!"
He staggered backward, but the Aether clung to himânow fully inside his body, it was consuming him. He could feel his vitality draining, his internal energy being devoured faster than even Extremis could replenish. His veins glowed red, his skin pale, drenched in sweat. It felt like he was being hollowed out, turned into a shell.
He wanted to scream, but no breath came.
He triedâdesperatelyâto get the system to store the Aether in its space, but he never got the words out. Darkness swallowed him.
---
Time lost meaning.
Aiden floated in the abyss of unconsciousness, surrounded by inky shadows that pulsed with a low, ominous hum. The Aether coiled in his body, almost lovingly now, as if accepting him as its new vessel. The Extremis worked overtime, fighting back, replenishing his cells even as they were consumed by the stone's hunger.
His body hovered several feet off the rocky floor, suspended in the air like a puppet on invisible strings. Waves of shadow oozed from the stone, snaking around his form and shielding him from the outside world.
Then⊠a flicker of consciousness.
Aiden's eyes slowly opened, but what greeted him was not the world he had left. It was pure black. The air felt heavier here, thickerâas if he had been pulled into a different plane altogether.
He took in a shaky breath. "Haa⊠it really is the Infinity Stone."
He sat up, grimacing at the ache in his bones. He wasn't dead. Somehow, he had survived. But the Aether had fused with his body.
There was no doubt about it. The crimson energy now slept within him.
"It's no wonder Thanos needed the gauntlet," he muttered, flexing his fingers. "Even someone as strong as him wouldn't handle this raw power directly."
He looked down at his chest. Crimson veins still pulsed lightly beneath his skin. It wasn't painful now, just⊠dormant. Like a dragon resting inside him.
"System," he rasped. "Can you⊠put it in your space?"
[Affirmative. But a complete transfer will take time.]
Aiden nodded, his heart still racing. That was fine. He could wait. Better to contain it slowly than risk another incident.
He exhaled in relief and released the Aether's grip, willing it out of his direct control. As he did, the lingering shadows dissipated slightly. But something was wrong.
The ground trembled.
His eyes narrowed. A cold chill ran down his spine.
"MalekithâŠ" he whispered.
The Dark Elf leader, ancient and malevolent, was forever bound to the Aether. Even sealed in slumber, he would sense itâfeel its awakening like a whisper in the void. And once he knew, he would come.
Aiden clenched his fists. I have to hide it. I have to move now.
Suddenly, a strange warmth descended from above. The shadows were peeled away by a column of golden light that pierced the dark skies like a divine lance. The air around him shimmered, distorted by powerful runes and godly forces.
Aiden's heart sank.
Asgardian Transmission!
The light flashed. And then, standing before him was a manâtall, broad-shouldered, adorned in silver armor with a flowing crimson cloak. In his hand, a hammer crackled with the power of storms.
His eyes were like lightning. His presence, thunderous.
"ThorâŠ" Aiden whispered. "The God of Thunder."
Thor stepped forward, lowering his hammer slightly as he scanned the scene. His gaze fell on Aidenâthen drifted to the remnants of the Aether's energy still clinging to his body. His face tightened in concern.
"By Odin's beard⊠you've touched it."
The atmosphere grew tense. Aiden's mind raced.
The Aether wasn't fully stored yet. Malekith could already be on his way. Thor's arrival was both a threat and an opportunity.
"System," Aiden whispered internally. "Wait⊠Don't store it just yet. I have another plan."
He looked up at Thor and straightened his posture, masking his exhaustion.
This was a rare chance.
Aiden had seen countless comics, movies, and shows that depicted the majesty of Asgardâa realm of gods, ancient relics, and cosmic marvels. If he could set foot there, even for a fleeting moment, he might uncover profound truths about the universeâand perhaps seize something valuable from the legendary Odin's Vault. After all, with the Dark Elves stirring and chaos erupting like in Thor: The Dark World, who's to say he wouldn't get the chance to raid the vault amid the turmoil? And once those relics were tucked away inside his system inventory, who could possibly trace them back to him?
'And isn't that always the first thing those reincarnators do in fanfictions when they end up in Asgard? I'm just following the tradition,' Aiden thought, wearing a pitiful expression as if pleading innocence before Thor.
*****
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