A deafening roar shook the very skies of Asgard.
Instantly, the heavens darkened, and a colossal shadow fell across the ground of the Golden Palace.
Freya looked up and saw a ring-shaped, rough-textured, and dimly lit cosmic warship blotting out the sun as it hovered above Asgard. Smaller aircraft swarmed around it.
"That's a Dark Elf warship," Freya, a researcher of science and magic in Asgard, immediately recognized its origin.
"Malekith," Chen Chen murmured, gazing at the sudden arrival. He drew a circle in the air, and a crackling, sparking portal materialized. Grabbing Freya's pale wrist, he said, "She's a bit temperamental, but not entirely bad."
He shoved her into the portal and closed it, making Freya vanish from the undefended street.
"I hope the Golden Palace's defenses are as sturdy as I anticipated," Chen Chen said softly, watching the Dark Elves begin their assault on Asgard from the heavens.
Moments ago, he had already teleported Freya back to the defensive zone within the Golden Palace. After all, that area was guarded by sentries and energy defense systems, making it far safer than any other location.
"Boom!"
The surrounding energy particles swirled violently into an energy storm. At its eye, Chen Chen stood calmly as moonlight flowed into his body. The blue glow on his face grew increasingly intense, until it almost completely obscured his features. Within him, his aura surged upward, energy surging like a tidal wave. A sharp, piercing light suddenly erupted from his dark eyes.
With a whistling rush of air, Chen Chen shot into the sky, leaving only a fierce whirlwind in his place.
On the massive flagship, Malekith's silver eyes gazed indifferently at the shattered streets and dead Asgardians below. His heart remained unmoved. Death, war, darkness, and cruelty were etched into his very marrow. For hundreds of thousands of years, nothing had stirred his soul except the desire to plunge the universe back into darkness and restore the Dark Elves to their former glory.
"Lord Malekith, I am ready," Algorim said, his eyes filled with resolve as he gazed at Malekith. Clad in wild, heavy armor, he understood that victory always came at a price, and he was willing to be that sacrifice.
"Algorim, my most trusted subordinate, the bravest warrior of the Dark Elves," Malekith said, drawing a black sphere from his hand. He strode toward Algorim, chanting words of loyalty and valor. "My friend, you will soon become the last Cursed Warrior among us Dark Elves."
The Cursed Warrior ritual was a forbidden technique used by the Dark Elves to enhance their warriors. While it granted immense power, it also stripped the subject of their sanity, leaving them mentally degraded and reduced to mere puppets of war.
Clutching the sphere tightly, Malekith hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on Algorim. But the hesitation vanished as quickly as it appeared. Victory always demanded sacrifice—for the grand cause of the Dark Elves!
The black sphere pierced through Algorim's body with a thunderous boom. As the sphere entered his body, a surge of power erupted, causing Algorim's form to swell grotesquely, growing to over two meters in height. His bulging muscles radiated an overwhelming sense of power.
"From this moment on, together we will be invincible, dominating the Nine Realms!" Malekith roared triumphantly.
"Is that what you think? I beg to differ," a voice drifted from behind Malekith, its eerie tone cutting through the silence like a blade.
"Who's there? Show yourself!" Malekith spun around, his eyes narrowing at a dark corner.
As a Dark Elf, his senses should have been razor-sharp, yet this intruder had infiltrated his presence without him detecting a trace. This was no ordinary foe.
"Where are you looking?"
Malekith whirled back again, finally seeing the mysterious figure's true form: a young man in a black robe, casually seated in the command chair of the spaceship with his legs crossed. A smirk played on his lips as he watched Malekith.
"Who are you, Lord Chen?" Malekith asked, his guard immediately raised by the unsettling aura Chen Chen exuded. His normally indifferent eyes now concealed vigilance and a hint of murderous intent. The Cursed Warrior, a manifestation of Algorim, shifted forward, positioning himself between them as a defensive posture.
"I'm Chen Chen," he replied casually, stroking the armrest. "Consider me a temporary resident of Asgard. I know who you are, Malekith."
"I'm here for something," Chen Chen said, raising a finger.
"Something?" Malekith paused, about to press further, but suddenly fixed his gaze on Chen Chen's body, his brow furrowing as if sensing something. He had detected a very familiar aura emanating from the young man. "I sense a very familiar aura from you, Lord Chen..."
"Oh, you mean this, don't you?" A crimson light flashed, and Chen Chen held a dark red orb between his index and thumb. A sinister smile spread across his face as he silently stared at Malekith.
"Aether!" Malekith's eyes narrowed as he stared at the Aether floating in Chen Chen's hand. He immediately abandoned his earlier tentative approach and roared at Chen Chen, "Hand over what you're holding! It doesn't belong to you!"
Malekith no longer cared who Chen Chen was. The Aether was the key to their race's dominance over the Nine Realms and their revival. He would obtain it at any cost.
*Besides,* he thought, *I have a newborn Cursed Warrior here. While this man is strange, he's no match for the Cursed Warrior in a direct fight.* With this thought, Malekith's confidence grew.
"Whether this belongs to me or not is up to me to decide, not you," Chen Chen replied calmly, his expression unperturbed by Malekith's state. "In fact, I came to ask you for something."
"My things?" Malekith seemed momentarily bewildered. "What do you want? If I have something that can be exchanged for what you're holding, take it."
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