Question: If you bring home an older woman who's thirty centimeters taller than you, and she says she wants you to be her Queen, what should you do?
Some people might rush forward and blurt out something dumb like:
"Do you want to eat first, shower first, or… eat me first?"
But Dante has always been a man of discipline. A husband of class.
He chose to let her shower first.
She'd been sealed away for over a thousand years!
Even if she somehow still looked squeaky clean, her hair was a bit of a mess.
Looked like some kind of edgy, smoky-eyed, non-mainstream cosplay wig.
Maybe because she trusted the person who yanked her out of a sealed dimension, Hela quietly accepted the towel Dante offered and walked into the bathroom.
The time she spent showering felt like a whole century to Dante.
Not because he was trying to peek.
He wasn't!
He was just… mentally preparing for the chaos when his other two roommates came home.
One Demon King-type older woman, one Psychopath-type older woman… and now a real, honest-to-Odin Asgardian goddess in the house.
This wasn't a casual situation.
Oh right—Loki.
How the hell was he supposed to explain this?
"Hey, this is your big sister. You're not blood-related, but yeah, she's totally your big sister."
Also, Loki looked Asgardian, but he was technically a Frost Giant from Jotunheim.
Hela probably slaughtered a metric ton of Frost Giants back in the day.
Let's just hope she didn't go full murder-mode the second they made eye contact.
As Dante spiraled deeper into worst-case scenarios, time flew by.
And Hela finally emerged from the bathroom.
Her long hair had returned to its full Asgardian glory under the healing power of conditioner and steam.
And her clothes—crafted with Asgardian tech—had automatically refreshed and transformed into a new outfit.
"So, Hela," Dante said, eyes flicking over her restored armor, "has your power started coming back?"
"Roughly… about one-fifth of my peak. If I can return to Asgard, I'll recover completely. But if I stay here on Midgard, I'll top out at half power. And even that'll take time."
He was a bit surprised.
So when she first crawled out of the seal in the movie and went 1v2 against her two little brothers—crushing Mjolnir in the process—she was only using one-fifth of her power?
Then her full-strength form must've been a peak-level Heavenly Father—basically Odin-tier.
Her only limiter was being on Asgardian soil.
But even off-world, half-power still made her a walking apocalypse.
Thanos, before he loaded up his jewelry box, was only sub-All Father-level.
Even the current rookie version of Thor was still nowhere close.
Hela sat down beside Dante.
It had to be said—she was the kind of regal older woman whose mere presence turned Dante's basic faux-leather IKEA couch into a throne.
"Now that I'm free, my perception has sharpened. Odin's getting old. His power's weakening, and so the seal he left behind has degraded. That might be how you were able to brute-force your way in with teleportation magic."
"Odin's getting old?"
"Mm. If I had to guess, he's got less than a thousand years left. He's not far from death."
Dante had just begun to process Odin is getting old, and then "less than a thousand years" casually dropped.
Only gods could make a statement like 'he's dying soon... in about a millennium.'
There was no way a human brain could emotionally relate.
"Forget that old man," Hela waved it off. "What I'm more curious about is this: Here on Midgard, a place where most people are basically insects, how are you walking around with a divine-tier physique… and living in such a cramped shack?"
"…Shack?"
Dante gave a weak smile.
Compared to Asgard, sure, this 400-square-meter apartment was probably a broom closet.
But c'mon. On Midgard? This was premium real estate.
He raised a hand and gestured around the room.
"First of all, this is already a luxury flat that most Midgardians could never afford."
"Second, yeah, I have a body comparable to your average Asgardian, but that doesn't mean I'm top dog. Midgard's got some pretty scary folks too. Especially that one."
"That one?" Hela tilted her head. "Who?"
"Technically an alien, like you. But he's often called the 'God of Humanity.'"
"God of Humanity?" Hela's interest was piqued. "What kind of god is that?"
"To be clear, he's not actually a god. Just an alien who crash-landed here. But... let me put it this way," Dante said, leaning back, "If your dad—at his peak—got into a fight with this guy? Best case, he'd crawl out bruised and begging for a truce."
This wasn't just bravado.
Dante had done his homework.
That Big Guy had soloed an entire Chitauri invasion and then closed the wormhole on his way out.
No way that was a rookie Superman still learning how to fly.
He'd asked Tony Stark. Lois Lane in this world was already 31.
So the Big Guy had to be around that age—meaning a fully matured, sun-charged Superman.
And against that version?
Even a peak All Father-level being might not win.
Of course, Dante was only talking raw combat power.
Asgard still had Queen Frigga, one of the most powerful witches in the Nine Realms.
If they pulled off a magical sneak attack, they might have a shot.
It was well-known: the Big Guy had zero resistance to magic.
"Does Midgard really have such a powerful being?" Hela asked.
"Yep. But all he wants is world peace, a warm home, and family life with his wife and kid. As long as you don't commit crimes in Metropolis or accidentally throw a car onto his farm, he's more docile than your neighbor's cat."
"Incredible… If I had that power, I'd spread Asgard's glory across the universe."
Dante wiped a bead of cold sweat off his forehead.
Yup. That's Odin's daughter, alright.
War maniac. Through and through.
Just as Hela was deep in thought, probably planning a conquest of the known cosmos.
The front door beeped.
Fingerprint unlock.
Loki strolled in, wearing a dark green suit that practically screamed "I am the moment," followed by Wanda and Pietro, both looking dazzled.
"Yo, Dante! Took the kids out for a walk—wait... Who are you?!"
Loki was mid-grin when his eyes locked on Hela sitting beside Dante.
His God of Mischief instincts screamed: RUN.
In a flash, he summoned his twin daggers and aimed them right at her.
He looked confident.
But his feet were already channeling a teleport spell.
This wasn't HYDRA's dampened cage. Magic worked just fine here.
"Oh? Odin's bloodline... No, wait. Frost Giant bloodline?" Hela's eyes locked onto him. "Fascinating. A Frost Giant whose outer form was permanently rewritten by Odin's primal magic. But you… you do resemble Odin in his youth."
Dante stepped in quickly and gently pushed Loki's dagger-hand down.
"Okay, everyone, chill."
"Loki, meet Hela."
"This is your father's adopted son. Call him Younger Brother."
"And this—" he pointed to Hela, "is your father's eldest daughter. Call her Elder Sister."
(To be continued.)
***
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