One day later, over a hundred of Thanos's newest warships glided steadily through space toward the continent of Asgard.
On a massive mothership, Loki sat idly with a book in hand, his boredom deep enough to rival the void outside. Since Thanos last visited, no one had come for him. If it weren't for the occasional robotic servant delivering food, he might have thought he'd slipped back into the same endless wormhole that had trapped him before.
The uncertainty gnawed at him. His fate seemed entirely out of his hands, and that sense of powerlessness was a poison he couldn't swallow. Just as he was contemplating how old he might become in this limbo, the door to his cell hissed open. Two figures, completely encased in sheet metal, glided in.
"Come out," a mechanical voice commanded.
Loki's book vanished instantly, and he rose obediently. He followed the metallic figures, knowing that these robots were no ordinary servants—they were equipped with infrared sensors, thermal detection, ultraviolet scanning—everything designed to pierce through his illusions.
Moments later, the doors opened, revealing Thanos. Loki's eyes went wide—but something else caught him off guard.
Over three meters tall, his skin an icy blue, stood none other than Laufey, King of the Frost Giants.
Panic surged through Loki. Memories flashed—he had once nearly destroyed Jotunheim with the Rainbow Bridge. If his father wanted revenge, there would be no escape.
But a sharp, commanding voice stopped him mid-step. "Where do you think you're going?"
A beam of blue energy shot from Laufey's hand, freezing Loki in place. The giant stepped forward, lifting him effortlessly. "Thank you, Lord Thanos," Laufey said with surprising formality. "From this moment, the Frost Giants will obey your commands."
In truth, Laufey never wanted to kneel before Thanos. But when he saw the endless destruction and the barely contained raw power emanating from the titan, he realized the truth: this was no mortal or petty god—this was an overlord, and defiance meant annihilation.
With no divine artifact to bolster him, and his only bloodline—Loki—saved from immediate danger, submission was the only rational choice.
Thanos's expression betrayed satisfaction. "Good. Our system of rewards and punishments is complete. Serve with merit, and ruling a galaxy becomes possible."
Grand promises. Yet they weren't false. One could indeed rise to dominate a galaxy—but only after demonstrating the ability to conquer ten star systems for each one awarded.
Laufey, centuries of experience etched into his countenance, simply nodded and left with Loki. Despite Loki's misdeeds, he was still his son; the Frost Giant could not bring himself to punish him too harshly. Still, the glare Laufey shot Loki was enough to make the young god's knees tremble.
"No… help!" Loki screamed, terror and frustration mixing in his voice as he was carried away.
Meanwhile, in the temples of Asgard, Odin dismissed Thor and Heimdall. Alone, he strode to the Rainbow Bridge. In a flash of blinding light, he vanished from the mortal realm.
He reappeared in the underworld—a realm where death was law. The sky was black as obsidian, the air thick with decay, and the ground littered with bones. The bones immediately rose, forming countless skeletons, their empty eye sockets blazing with soul fire as they lunged at Odin with claws and gnashing teeth.
In this realm, life itself was anathema. Odin's face hardened as he gripped the Spear of Eternity, releasing a surge of energy so intense it shredded the skeletal horde. The ground beneath him cracked, a chasm over a hundred meters wide and kilometers long tearing through the underworld itself.
From the void, a massive, indistinct black shadow materialized. "Odin, what are you doing in my underworld?!" the figure demanded, voice low and sharp, each word laced with disdain.
"I am here to take my daughter," Odin replied, impatience lacing his tone. With that, he vanished in a flash, reappearing before a monumental tomb.
The tomb was over ten meters high, covering more than a thousand square meters. Without the massive stone slab marking its entrance, one could never have guessed it concealed a grave.
Before it knelt a figure draped in black, long hair cascading over a form clad in a bodysuit of shadow. Hela, goddess of death, radiated an aura so potent it seemed to pull the world into an abyss. Odin's chest tightened as he saw her—so formidable, yet kneeling in silence.
Had he been too cruel? He recalled the countless battles they had fought together before the Nine Realms were pacified. Hela had been his most trusted general, conquering worlds and slaughtering enemies for him. And yet, in his fear of her power, he had sealed her in the underworld for over a millennium.
Shaking off regret, Odin's resolve hardened. The Asgardian bloodline must remain pure; only one of their own could inherit the throne. He could not allow sentiment to compromise the kingdom.
"Now," he said, his voice cold, "I give you a chance to return to Asgard with me—but you will obey my orders."
Hela's eyes opened, twin abysses of darkness and death, absorbing the aura of the underworld into herself. Her gaze was terrifying; even a moment spent looking into them felt like staring into the void itself.
She began to rise, black and green armor forming across her body, a cloak unfurling behind her, and a spiked helmet settling over her head like the crown of a nightmare.
"Odin! I've been waiting for you all this time!" she exclaimed, voice filled with restrained fury.
As she spoke, a black blade shot from her hand, spinning through the air straight at Odin, her power unleashed in a single, deadly strike.
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