Chapter 735

Thor looked relaxed enough on the outside, but inside, he knew they were in serious trouble.

His father’s worst fears had finally come true.

Thor and Odin had disagreed over how to deal with the Dark Elves. Thor wanted an ideal outcome: a swift victory with minimal Asgardian casualties, and, just as importantly, an end to the war before the Aether drained Jane Foster of her life.

That was why he’d brought Jane directly to the Dark World. The plan was simple enough. Use her as bait to lure the Dark Elves into a trap, then close the door behind them and beat them on their own ground.

He’d even presented the idea to Odin.

His father had dismissed it outright.

Trapping the enemy was all well and good, Odin had pointed out, but what happened if you closed the door and discovered that the enemy was stronger than you? Getting bitten by the dog was bad enough. What if it killed you?

Better to fight a defensive war, exploit Asgard’s advantages, and let the enemy exhaust itself against the Golden Palace.

Odin had another reason for rejecting Thor’s plan, one he hadn’t fully explained to his son.

Despite all his battles and adventures, Thor had never truly experienced war.

There was a difference between fighting monsters, overcoming dangerous enemies, and enduring a real war, where victory came at the cost of lives, kingdoms, and the people a ruler had sworn to protect.

Odin knew his time was running short. He wanted to use this opportunity to teach Thor what war truly meant, including its horrors, its grief, and the difficult decisions a king had to make.

A king had to cherish his people. They were the foundation upon which his throne rested. Neglect them, and that foundation would crumble.

But there was a limit to that principle.

If a king became so protective of his people that he could no longer bear to see them shoulder the burdens of the kingdom, if he tried to lift every weight from their backs, the throne would collapse just as surely.

Everything required balance. Too little was disastrous. Too much could be equally ruinous. A ruler’s responsibility was to recognize the difference and know when to act.

In Odin’s eyes, Thor had a habit of taking things too far.

And this time, he wasn’t merely risking a little overcooking. He was threatening to melt the entire pot.

Odin blamed himself, too.

He had always struggled to be strict with Thor. Whenever his son made a mistake, Odin found himself thinking that perhaps he’d given him too much freedom, that perhaps the fault lay with the father rather than the son.

Thor’s worst habits had been encouraged by years of indulgence.

With his own days numbered, Odin had hoped to correct them before it was too late. Perhaps, if he could make Thor understand the true cost of war, there was still time to set him on the right path.

Unfortunately, Odin wanted to teach, and Thor had no interest in learning.

The resulting confrontation had nearly driven the All-Father to an apoplectic fit. He had three children, and somehow every one of them seemed determined to shorten his life. At least his eldest had the decency to challenge him openly. The other two preferred to wear him down one slow, agonizing moment at a time.

Odin had no idea that Thor was already regretting his decision.

Looking back, the prince could finally admit that perhaps his father had been right.

At first, he’d been offended by Odin’s objections. What was wrong with trapping the enemy? He was Thor, God of Thunder. Surely he could handle a few Dark Elves.

Besides, Odin’s comparison to a dog had been insulting. Was his father suggesting that Thor was the sort of person who could lose a fight to an ordinary dog?

Unfortunately, reality had a cruel sense of humor.

The plan had gone remarkably smoothly. Even during the journey between worlds, when Thor had sensed that something was missing, he’d assumed it wouldn’t matter. If anything, he thought, the absence of that missing element might improve their chances.

Then came the final step.

And the dog bit him.

Thor had unleashed everything he had, only for his lightning to fail to destroy either the Aether or Malekith. Instead, his attack had allowed the two to fuse successfully.

His reckless decision had cost Asgard its greatest bargaining chip and squandered its strategic advantage. If Malekith now used the Aether to plunge the universe into darkness, Thor would have no one to blame but himself.

Someone else might have been crushed by the guilt. They might have spent days agonizing over their failure, convinced they’d betrayed their kingdom and disgraced their family. A particularly dramatic person might even have decided that the only honorable response was to fall on their own sword.

Thor’s response was much simpler.

He would kill Malekith.

If he could defeat the Dark Elf king before the Aether’s power spread throughout the universe, victory was still possible.

But Malekith had no intention of fighting him.

"My destiny does not lie here," the Dark Elf king declared. "If you wish to face me, send your father."

With that, he turned away.

He left a handful of soldiers behind to occupy Thor and his companions while leading the rest of his forces toward their strange, starfish-shaped flagship.

The confrontation between himself and Odin was the climax of the grand drama. Until that moment arrived, Malekith intended to conserve his strength. A protagonist who exhausted himself in the opening act would make for a very poor finale.

Thor’s expression darkened.

He was already burdened by guilt over ignoring his father’s advice. Now Malekith had openly dismissed him, essentially declaring that Thor wasn’t even worth fighting.

If the prince had been looking for another reason to lose his temper, he’d just found one.

He charged the Dark Elf soldiers surrounding him and knocked them aside with a few powerful blows. Then he lunged after Malekith.

Aggram, however, had other plans.

The Kursed warrior pulled a small grenade from his belt and hurled it toward Thor’s group.

Loki had no idea what the device did, but he knew better than to wait around to find out. He instinctively dodged and threw himself over Jane, shielding her with his body.

Unfortunately, he didn’t understand the grenade’s true function.

A gravity vortex erupted from the device, threatening to drag Loki into its crushing pull. He nearly disappeared into the distortion before Thor rushed back and hauled him to safety.

The delay was costly.

By the time Thor had rescued them, Malekith and his escort had almost reached their ship.

Thor didn’t even stop to check whether Loki and Jane were injured. He launched himself toward the Dark Elf king.

He nearly reached his target.

Then Aggram spun around, brought his massive hands together, and swung with all his strength.

The blow sent Thor hurtling backward.

Mjolnir flew from his grasp.

There was a reason the Kursed warriors were considered the Dark Elves’ most formidable soldiers. Aggram’s strength made the title seem almost understated.

Malekith paused to watch the exchange, looking more intrigued than concerned.

"Ah, I see. We need an appetizer before the main course."

Thor, son of Odin and God of Thunder, was a celebrated warrior, even if his judgment occasionally left something to be desired. Aggram, meanwhile, was Malekith’s closest companion and most powerful subordinate, the final product of the Kursed transformation.

Before absorbing the Aether, Malekith himself would have struggled to defeat Aggram in a contest of strength.

Letting the two fight before the grand finale seemed entirely appropriate.

The great being he worshiped would surely appreciate such an arrangement.

Malekith turned toward his enormous companion.

"Brother."

His voice became solemn.

"Your destiny lies here. I leave this place in your hands."

He bowed slightly, then boarded the flagship.

A moment later, the vessel folded out of the Dark World, leaving Aggram behind.

The Kursed warrior knew his remaining days were numbered. He had no intention of dying quietly in some hidden corner of the universe. If this was where his life would end, then he would burn through every last moment of it.

And he would begin by offering Thor’s head as a sacrifice to his people’s victory.

With death already accepted, Aggram fought with terrifying ferocity.

Thor charged with a right hook.

Aggram caught his wrist, pulled him forward, and smashed his forehead into Thor’s face. Before the prince could recover, Aggram drove a fist into his jaw, then followed with a backhand that sent him flying.

Loki tried to move to his brother’s aid, but a squad of Dark Elf soldiers rushed in to block his path. Unlike Thor, Loki couldn’t simply bulldoze his way through a crowd of armed enemies.

Thor struggled back to his feet.

He barely managed to steady himself before Aggram seized him by the throat with both hands. Thor hammered his fists into the warrior’s ribs until the grip loosened, then tore himself free.

He had only a moment to recover.

Aggram grabbed him again and hurled him across the battlefield.

This time, however, the Kursed warrior didn’t pursue immediately. His movements were slower than Thor’s, and he knew better than to waste energy chasing an opponent who could put distance between them.

Instead, he turned and punched a thick stone pillar beside him.

The pillar shattered.

Aggram seized the upper section, hoisted the enormous chunk of stone over his shoulder, and hurled it at Thor.

The projectile smashed into the prince with tremendous force.

Thor crossed his arms and braced himself, managing to avoid serious injury, but the stone exploded into fragments around him. He staggered out of the rubble, coughing dust from his lungs.

Aggram was already charging toward him.

Thor finally accepted the obvious.

He wasn’t going to win this fight by trading punches.

He needed to use his head.

As Aggram advanced directly toward him, Thor stretched out his hand and summoned Mjolnir.

The hammer tore through the air toward its master.

Thor watched it approach, a grim smile forming on his face. Aggram was so focused on the fight that he hadn’t noticed the incoming weapon.

Nothing can stop Mjolnir once it starts moving.

Not even that ugly face of yours.

The hammer closed the distance.

Aggram casually swatted it away with the back of his hand.

The weapon shot off course.

Thor’s expression froze.

That wasn’t just a failed attack. It was an insult.

Perhaps he really should have switched to an axe. At least then, when someone tried to slap his weapon out of the air, he could threaten to cut their hand off.

Aggram didn’t bother to contemplate the significance of what he’d done.

He seized Thor, slammed him to the ground, and began pounding him with both fists.

The blows came down with the relentless rhythm of a pile driver.

Thor’s head was driven into the earth beneath him.

"THOR!"

A sharp cry rang out across the battlefield.

Before the sound had faded, a figure charged in from the side.

A tremendous impact struck Aggram in the right ribs, sending the massive Kursed warrior flying.

Thor blinked through the haze of pain and struggled to his feet with help.

"Sif? What are you doing here?"

"I was sent to reinforce you by King Odin."

Sif no longer called Odin the All-Father. Somewhere along the way, she had begun addressing him simply as King Odin.

"An elite company of Einherjar was supposed to accompany me, but I was worried about you, so I came ahead."

Sif had been concerned for Thor, of course. But this was also the first mission Frigga had entrusted to her, and Sif had no intention of letting a slow-moving squad of warriors dictate her pace.

She could travel faster than the Einherjar, so she had left them behind and hurried ahead alone.

The moment she arrived, she saw Aggram beating Thor into the ground.

She hadn’t wasted a second. Shield raised, she’d charged straight into the Kursed warrior and knocked him away from the prince.

Thor summoned Mjolnir back into his hand and settled into a fighting stance beside her.

"Be careful. That brute is incredibly strong."

Sif took one step forward.

Then she looked Aggram up and down and called out, "Hey, ugly! How about a bigger opponent?"

Loki had finally finished off the Dark Elves who’d been keeping him occupied. He arrived just in time to hear Sif’s challenge.

His entire body went cold.

His bones seemed to turn to jelly, and his face twisted into an expression of genuine horror.

He knew exactly what Sif meant.

Among everyone Thor knew, there was only one person who could be called a bigger opponent, someone Sif knew as well.

Loki needed to leave this world.

Immediately.

He turned to retreat.

At that moment, a Dark Elf soldier who should have been dead suddenly appeared from somewhere nearby, thrusting a spear straight toward him.

The weapon struck home.

"AH!"

Thor heard the scream and instinctively turned his head.

The sight that greeted him nearly stopped his heart.

A spear had pierced Loki’s chest.

Yet even as the wounded prince of Jotunheim staggered, he refused to release his attacker. He wrapped one arm around the soldier’s neck and drove a dagger into him with his free hand.

They collapsed together.

"No!"

Thor rushed over and caught Loki before he hit the ground.

His brother’s breathing was faint, his face deathly pale, and his entire body trembling.

"You idiot," Thor whispered desperately. "Why didn’t you listen to me? Why weren’t you more careful?"

Loki struggled to focus on him.

"I know. I’m an idiot."

His voice was weak and ragged.

"I’m sorry. I’m sorry."

Thor forced himself to smile, though his eyes were already filling with tears.

"I’ll tell Father what you did. He’ll be proud of you."

Loki’s expression changed.

For one brief moment, it was as though a dying flame had suddenly flared back to life.

He grabbed Thor around the neck and struggled to lift himself.

"I didn’t do it for him!"

Then his strength vanished.

He sank back into Thor’s arms, his eyes slowly closing.

"No!"

Thor clutched his brother to his chest and broke down in grief.

Nearby, Sif glanced toward them.

She felt no sadness. If anything, she was struggling to suppress a smile. Her greatest rival was finally gone.

And yet something about the scene troubled her.

Loki was usually far too cunning to be caught off guard by an ordinary soldier. How could the God of Mischief die to such a simple ambush?

It didn’t make sense.

She barely had time to consider the question before Aggram charged at her.

Sif hurriedly raised her shield.

Aggram’s fist slammed into it.

The impact produced a deafening boom, and a shock wave blasted dust and loose stones away from them. Sif held her defensive stance, but the force drove her backward more than five meters before she finally managed to stop.

She lowered her shield, gritting her teeth.

The arm holding it had gone numb.

"That’s quite a punch," she admitted, shaking out her hand. "No wonder Thor had such a hard time with you."

She tightened her grip on the shield and stepped forward again.

"But don’t underestimate me."

Sif crouched and thrust both arms outward.

A pair of green wings unfurled from her back.

The feathers swept forward and folded around her entire body, enclosing her in a cocoon of emerald plumage. Flames began to flicker between the overlapping feathers, growing brighter and more intense until her silhouette disappeared within the blaze.

Then the wings opened.

A gigantic Sif stood in their place.

Aggram had been towering over Thor, but now the Kursed warrior barely reached the enormous woman’s chest.

Sif looked down at him.

"Let’s see how you handle this."

...