Chapter 230 231: It's Them!

Ajak.

The leader of the Eternal, a life spanning thousands of years, had ended at this moment.

Her body lay on its side on the wreckage of the sofa, one hand hanging over the edge, fingers slightly curled, as if she had wanted to grasp something at the very last moment.

Her eyes were closed, and there was no expression of pain on her face, but there was a fist-sized wound in her chest that went straight through from front to back.

The edges of the wound were scorched, the skin charred and peeled back, revealing the muscle underneath that was no longer bright red.

Sersi felt her legs go weak; she stumbled to the sofa, knelt on the ground, and reached out a trembling hand to touch Ajak's face.

That face was icy cold, without warmth, devoid of the steady calmness that had always been there to reassure her.

"Ajak..." Sersi's voice was hoarse, as if squeezed from deep within her throat.

Sersi's hand moved from Ajak's face to her wrist; she pressed down on Ajak's wrist and felt for a dozen seconds.

Nothing.

She was truly dead.

Sersi knelt there, head bowed, shoulders trembling slightly, like a tree bent by a storm, ready to snap at any moment.

"Sersi."

A voice came from behind her. Sersi turned her head sharply.

Standing at the doorway was a person, a man. He was tall, not much shorter than Thor, with a slender but not frail build, broad shoulders, and a straight back.

His short, dark brown hair was slightly messy from the wind, and there were small cuts on his cheeks, as if scratched by flying debris.

His eyes were dark brown, slightly red at the moment, as if he had just been crying, or perhaps suppressing something.

Ikaris, the most powerful warrior among the Eternal, Sersi's former lover.

Thousands of years ago, they met on the plains of Mesopotamia, fell in love on the walls of Babylon, and had broken up and reunited over countless centuries.

He was the main striker of the Eternal; he could fly, release cosmic energy beams from his eyes, and his strength, speed, and stamina far exceeded those of the other members.

"Ikaris..." Sersi stood up, her knees weak. "What happened here?"

Ikaris looked at Sersi, his red eyes filled with sadness, anger, and a complex emotion Sersi had never seen before—self-reproach.

"I arrived a step too late." Ikaris's voice was hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing.

"By the time I arrived, Ajak was already..."

He didn't finish, but the meaning was clear; he hadn't been able to save her.

Sersi walked over, reached out, and gently touched Ajak's arm. That arm hung limply, the fingers icy cold.

She felt that beneath Ajak's skin, the energy circuits unique to the Eternal had completely stopped, like a dried-up river.

"Why did this happen?" Sersi's voice was trembling. "Who did this?"

She truly didn't understand; the Deviants—the enemies the Eternal were sent to Earth to eliminate—had long been wiped out by them.

Decades ago, the last Deviant was killed by Ikaris's own hand.

Since then, the Eternal had been living in seclusion, each living their own lives, occasionally meeting, occasionally keeping in touch.

No one knew of their existence, and no one would come to cause them trouble.

Moreover, they were the Eternal, possessing strength, speed, and stamina far exceeding humans.

Although Ajak was not a combat-type member, her healing abilities and her ability to communicate with the God made her the core of the team.

Who, what kind of power could kill her without a sound?

Ikaris didn't answer immediately; he lowered his head, looking at Ajak's face in his arms, and remained silent for a long time.

Then he raised his head, his gaze passing over Sersi and landing on the doorway behind her.

There, four people were standing.

Ikaris's gaze stopped on Mavuika; his eyes slowly narrowed, and the red in his pupils grew more intense.

That was not the red of sadness, but the red of hatred, like fire, like magma, like something that had been suppressed for too long and finally found an outlet.

Sersi saw his expression, she froze, and turned her head to follow his gaze.

Ikaris gritted his teeth, every word squeezed out from between them.

"It's them!"

Sersi was stunned.

"What did you say?"

Ikaris's gaze locked onto Mavuika, his voice low and urgent.

"Ajak was killed by an extremely powerful Fire force. On this Planet, the only one who can do this is the one before you, the sun goddess of Asgard."

He paused.

"And they are looking for us now; Ajak was their first target."

Sersi felt her mind go blank; she looked at Ikaris, then at Mavuika.

She remembered a few hours ago, in the museum in London, the scene when Mavuika found her—direct, precise, and unhidden.

She came to her, spoke the name of the Eternal, and told her everything. If she really wanted to harm the Eternal, this would indeed be a perfect opening.

But—Sersi's intuition resisted this conclusion. The tone Mavuika used when speaking, that calm, almost gentle certainty, did not seem like a murderer in disguise.

Although Hela was irritable, her irritability was impatience toward everything, not hostility specifically aimed at the Eternal.

Thor looked like a big oaf, but his eyes were open and honest; he didn't seem like someone hiding a secret.

Loki looked the most suspicious, but his cunning was written on his face, not hidden in the shadows.

"Is it true?" Sersi asked. She didn't look at Ikaris, but at Mavuika.

Mavuika stood at the doorway, saying nothing.

Her gaze landed on Ajak's corpse, looking at the wound that pierced through the chest, looking at the charred skin at the edges.

Thor couldn't help but speak up. "Wait, are you misunderstanding something?"

He took a step forward, carrying Mjolnir, his face wearing that eagerness to clarify after being wronged.

"We just arrived on Earth, we haven't been here at all, and we haven't seen this person! We followed Sersi here just to talk to your leader, not to kill anyone!"

Ikaris looked at him, the corners of his mouth curling into a mocking arc.

"If not you, then who else could it be? On this Planet, who else could kill an Eternal?"

Thor opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but realized he truly couldn't answer. He looked at Loki, hoping his brother could say a few words for him.

Loki leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, a cold sneer on his lips.

He looked at Ikaris, his emerald green eyes devoid of anger or urgency, only a cold, scrutinizing gaze that saw through everything.

"He is framing us," Loki said, his tone as flat as if he were commenting on the weather today.

Thor was stunned for a moment.

"What?"

Loki looked at Ikaris, his voice not loud, but every word as clear as a blade cutting across glass.

"The traces of the battle were not caused solely by Fire, but more like energy beams. Moreover, he is holding the leader's corpse, not checking the scene, but pointing at us and shouting 'murderer' the first chance he gets."

He paused, the smile on his lips deepening.

"This is not the reaction of a grieving companion; this is the reaction of someone who wants to divert attention."