Chapter 742

Malekith was becoming increasingly confused.

Nothing about the situation unfolding before him matched the scenario he’d envisioned.

From the beginning, he’d believed Odin was destined to be his ultimate adversary. Once he’d obtained the Aether and reached the battlefield where their final confrontation would take place, he’d expected the All-Father to appear and face him in a battle worthy of their shared history.

Instead, he’d found Thor waiting for him.

Thor. The warm-up act.

Why does this glorified supporting character keep forcing himself into the spotlight?

Malekith was thoroughly displeased.

However, ever since he’d discovered his faith, his mind had developed an astonishing ability to rationalize just about anything. Everything happened for a reason. If Thor had appeared before him again at this particular moment, there had to be a divine purpose behind it.

Perhaps the great being he’d come to worship felt that Thor’s previous battle against the Cursed Warrior hadn’t provided enough entertainment.

Or perhaps Odin had grown old, his strength diminished by the passage of time. A duel with the All-Father might not have been sufficiently spectacular, so the great being had chosen a younger, stronger opponent for Malekith’s climactic battle.

Whatever the explanation, divine will was divine will. Malekith would take this confrontation seriously.

Unfortunately, just as he’d prepared to strike a suitably imposing pose and deliver the opening lines of his grand speech, the humans had unleashed an indiscriminate artillery barrage upon the battlefield.

Fortunately, he’d reacted in time to use the Aether to shield himself. Otherwise, he would have been reduced to scattered atoms.

When he finally crawled out from beneath the rubble, he discovered that Thor had already been knocked unconscious by the bombardment.

Malekith had nearly slapped his own thigh in delight.

I knew it! The man is a supporting character! I haven’t even started fighting properly, and he’s already down!

He’d also spotted Sif and Evenson arriving to rescue the thunder god.

Malekith remembered both of them from his earlier attempt to enter Frigga’s chambers and find a suitable host for the Aether. Sif didn’t concern him much. Her strength was hardly anything to worry about.

Evenson, however, was another matter.

It was through this man that Malekith had discovered the existence of the faith he’d embraced. Yet, judging by Evenson’s words and actions, the Warlock seemed reluctant to fight him.

That made sense. If Evenson knew about the great being as well, surely he wouldn’t dare disrupt a performance intended for such a divine audience.

Which meant Odin was still his true opponent.

Malekith nodded to himself, increasingly certain of his interpretation. He was ready to unleash the full power of the Aether and begin rewriting reality itself.

Then something even stranger happened.

In an instant, the entire battlefield was replaced by an enormous Mirror Dimension.

Two women appeared alongside him.

One was a bald woman introduced as the Sorcerer Supreme. Malekith had never heard of her, but anyone capable of replacing such a vast area of reality with a convincing imitation of itself possessed extraordinary power. Even if she fell short of Odin, she was certainly stronger than that ridiculous supporting character, Thor.

The second woman wore black plate armor.

Malekith hadn’t fought her, so he couldn’t accurately judge her strength. However, her equipment suggested that she served as the Sorcerer Supreme’s personal bodyguard.

After all, spellcasters tended to have frail bodies. It only made sense for a powerful mage to employ a warrior capable of keeping enemies at a distance.

And if someone as formidable as this bald sorceress had entrusted her safety to the armored woman, then the latter’s strength was certainly nothing to dismiss.

So that was how it would be.

He’d have to defeat the two women first.

The sorceress had apparently been recognized by Odin as some sort of ruler over this realm. Naturally, she wouldn’t tolerate Malekith causing trouble on her territory.

It was just like a dungeon crawl.

Defeat the mini-boss, then move on to the final boss.

And if a fight was inevitable, Malekith would make certain he didn’t lose face.

He swept his cloak dramatically behind him.

He would have liked to run a hand through his magnificent white hair as well, but the artillery bombardment had left precious little of it. His fingers closed around a handful of ash instead.

Malekith’s expression twitched.

He swallowed his embarrassment, raised a hand toward the Ancient One, and spoke in the deep, practiced voice he’d spent considerable time perfecting.

"So, you intend to oppose me as well? Very well! I shall magnanimously permit the two of you to face me together. Be grateful for the extraordinary generosity of your king!"

"What an exceedingly generous monarch."

The Ancient One shuddered slightly at his manner of speaking, then offered her praise with an expression that made it abundantly clear she meant the exact opposite.

"However, I have no desire to take unfair advantage of you. Only one of us will fight you."

She pointed toward Clea.

Malekith hadn’t even had time to respond before Evenson exploded.

"What the hell are you doing?! Have you lost your mind? You’re letting Clea fight him alone?"

Evenson knew Clea’s abilities better than almost anyone.

By Kamar-Taj’s standards, she was certainly no weakling. But that was hardly a meaningful comparison. Being the strongest person in a beginner’s training group didn’t mean much when facing an opponent at the highest level.

She might have conquered the training grounds, but against a max-level raid boss, she’d still be in for a miserable time.

Yes, she’d gained access to some of the Void’s darker powers after studying the Necronomicon. But how long had it been since then? How much could she possibly have improved?

Had the Ancient One taken her to R’lyeh for a few days of training and somehow transformed her into someone capable of fighting Malekith while he wielded an Infinity Stone?

What had she done, fed Clea performance-enhancing drugs?

"If you want to force me into the fight, just say so! There’s no need to go through this whole charade!"

"Evenson..."

Clea tapped the Necronomicon, which hung from her waist by a chain.

She understood why he was reacting so strongly. He was worried about her.

But his concern still amounted to a denial of her abilities.

"I’m not your pet canary."

As she spoke, Clea raised her head.

Her eyes had turned completely black.

She lifted the lion-faced helmet she’d been carrying and placed it over her head. The moment it settled into place, the stylized lion’s face seemed to come alive. Two yellow gemstones set into its forehead glowed like predatory eyes, radiating an unsettling intensity.

The white mane attached to the back of the helmet and draped across her shoulders stirred despite the absence of wind.

Watching her from behind, Evenson could almost believe an actual lion had emerged from the armor. There was something unmistakably regal about the way the mane moved, lending her the imposing presence of a lion king.

Clea extended one hand.

A knight’s lance appeared in her grasp, its surface wrapped in an unfamiliar metal and studded with vicious-looking spikes.

She gripped it in both hands, leveled the weapon at Malekith, and assumed a fighting stance.

"I am Clea Ludwig, the Twilight Knight! I challenge you!"

The Twilight Knight?

Evenson frowned.

The title sounded strangely familiar, as though he’d encountered it somewhere before.

Then another thought struck him, and he very nearly grabbed Clea by the shoulders and shook her.

She’d been obsessed with anime and fantasy for years. How had she still failed to learn the most important lesson of all?

Why had she chosen to be a lancer?

Didn’t she know that, regardless of how weak an opponent might be, lancers had an almost supernatural talent for finding ways to lose?

Malekith regarded her with undisguised disdain.

"You truly intend to face me alone?"

He glanced at the Ancient One, his expression turning mocking.

"The bodyguard who should be protecting her physically frail spellcaster is going into battle alone, while the spellcaster who ought to provide support intends to stand by and do nothing. What a remarkably foolish arrangement."

He spread his arms.

"Very well. I shall grant you the first move."

Malekith folded his arms across his chest and stood perfectly still, inviting Clea to attack.

Behind her helmet, Clea’s eyes flashed with anger.

This battle was supposed to prove something. She wanted to demonstrate how much she’d grown, to show Evenson that she was no longer a helpless ornament who needed him to protect her.

Instead, her opponent had dismissed her before the fight had even begun.

Clea attacked in a burst of fury.

Releasing the lance with her left hand, she thrust it forward and shouted, "Twilight Judgment!"

A massive hammer made entirely of shadow energy materialized above Malekith’s head.

It came crashing down.

"ARGH!"

Malekith cried out in pain.

His arrogance had left him completely unprepared for the attack. He’d assumed Clea was a conventional melee fighter in heavy armor, and he’d never imagined she could launch a spell of such power.

The hammer struck before he could mount any defense.

Worse, the impact carried a strange energy that seeped into his body. It didn’t seem to be actively harming him, but he could feel it reaching for something within him, as though attempting to draw it out.

Clea didn’t give him time to investigate.

Remaining where she stood, she swept her lance forward.

"Shadow Phantom!"

A second figure burst from the weapon, a perfect replica of Clea composed entirely of shadow. It raced across the battlefield and slammed into Malekith, exploding against him with tremendous force.

The Dark Elf king was hurled backward.

He wasn’t seriously injured, but the sudden assault left him thoroughly disoriented. He shook his head, trying to clear the confusion from his thoughts.

Then he felt a rush of air above him.

He looked up.

Clea had leaped directly over his head, both hands gripping her lance as she brought it crashing down.

"Abyssal Crusader!"

Malekith’s eyes widened.

A heavily armored warrior whose ranged magic was already this powerful was now coming down on him with what looked like a devastating physical attack.

If that lance connected, it might drive his head straight through his pelvis.

"RAAAH!"

Malekith roared and summoned the Aether.

The red, liquid-like substance surged from his body, forming a protective barrier just in time to intercept Clea’s descending strike.

The impact shook the surrounding space.

When Clea realized her attack had failed to break through, she used the force of the collision to propel herself backward, landing safely at her original position.

Malekith stared at her.

"I must admit, I underestimated you."

He thrust both hands forward.

The Aether surged toward Clea in a violent wave, its crimson mass twisting through the air.

Clea simply raised her lance horizontally before her.

The moment the attack struck the weapon, the Aether split cleanly into two streams and swept past her on either side.

The failed attack withdrew, gathering into a red sphere.

For a brief instant, it hung in the air.

Then it exploded.

Countless arms burst from the sphere, reaching toward Clea from every direction.

She didn’t flinch.

Instead, she raised her lance high overhead and shouted, "Profane Tempest!"

Shadow energy erupted around her.

The darkness whirled into a raging storm, transforming Clea into its motionless eye. The vortex tore through the approaching arms and shredded the Aether’s assault before it could reach her.

Evenson stared at the spectacle.

The Twilight Knight?

Isn’t this a Twilight Paladin?

The techniques were familiar, yet different enough to leave him momentarily bewildered.

Then again, it made a certain kind of sense.

Paladins had emerged from two broad traditions. Some were powerful priests who donned plate armor and learned the techniques of warriors. Others were exceptionally devout warriors who embraced the teachings and disciplines of the priesthood.

If practitioners of the Light could combine those paths, why couldn’t shadow priests do the same?

Hadn’t the Twilight’s Hammer once possessed an elite fighting force of precisely this sort, one that inspired dread wherever it appeared?

Clea had already gained the abilities of a shadow priest. She’d also trained in unarmed combat and weapon techniques since childhood.

Her evolution into a Twilight Knight was practically inevitable.

But this strong?

What exactly did you feed her?

Evenson turned toward the Ancient One, who was watching Clea with an unmistakably satisfied expression.

Had she somehow given Clea an entire set of additional spiritual foundations, as though she’d advanced through four stages at once?

Had she fed the girl some miracle fertilizer?

Or did R’lyeh have a premium shop where someone could spend a hundred and fifty bucks to purchase an instant power boost?

Whatever the explanation, the results were absurd.

Malekith, meanwhile, was experiencing considerably less amusement.

The girl was far stronger than he’d anticipated. More troubling still, her mastery of shadow energy was remarkably sophisticated.

Was she a servant of another great being?

Or had the god he worshipped deliberately arranged this challenge to test him?

Either way, Malekith had to defeat her.

But as he considered his options, his eyes flicked toward the others standing nearby.

The Ancient One, Evenson, Sif... all of them were watching him.

If he wanted to defeat everyone here, he would have to unleash his full power.

And that was precisely the problem.

Malekith hadn’t been fighting at full strength.

Even for him, hosting the Aether, one of the Infinity Stones, was an enormous burden. Using its power too freely exacted a substantial toll on his body.

He still had to face Odin, whom he’d identified as his ultimate enemy. Beyond that, he intended to use the Aether to rewrite the universe itself.

He couldn’t afford to exhaust his strength before either task was accomplished.

But if he continued fighting Clea at this pace, he might lose.

And if he unleashed the Aether’s full might to secure victory, he could leave himself too depleted to reshape reality afterward.

For the first time, Malekith found himself caught in a genuine dilemma.

A dilemma...

Could this be another test?

His eyes suddenly brightened.

Perhaps he was finally beginning to understand.

Everything he’d done, every sacrifice he’d made, had been for the sake of his people. The Dark Elves had once ruled the cosmos, and he intended to restore their lost glory.

That was his purpose.

That was why he’d come this far.

And once he won this battle, the grand tragedy he’d been starring in would finally reach its magnificent conclusion.

Surely the great being watching his performance would be delighted.

And a delighted god might be a generous god.

If he received a suitable reward, would he even need to rewrite the universe himself?

A slow smile spread across Malekith’s face.

"Long before the universe was poisoned by the Light, long before your pathetic little planet had even formed, the Dark Elves ruled the cosmos for countless millennia!"

His voice grew louder.

"We built empires! We forged civilizations! And once you have all been reduced to ashes..."

He suddenly doubled over, clutching his shoulders with both hands.

His entire body began to tremble, as though he were enduring unbearable agony.

The Aether erupted from within him, pouring outward in a torrent of crimson energy.

Malekith’s voice rose into a thunderous roar.

"THE DARK ELVES SHALL ENDURE FOR ALL ETERNITY!"