A shadow drifted silently through the void — a massive Dark Elf warship, gliding toward Asgard.
Its hull was cloaked, invisible to mortal eyes and even to Heimdall's all-seeing gaze.
But invisibility did not mean undetectable.
Lock's warning had put Asgard on high alert, and Heimdall was watching for every ripple. The disturbed clouds, the subtle shifts in the air, the trails of displaced dust — they revealed the ship's path as clearly as ink on parchment.
A single, long horn echoed through the Golden City.
Asgard's alarm.
From every corner of the realm, the divine turrets rose, their black muzzles swiveling in unison, aiming at the invisible target Heimdall had marked.
In the heart of the city, the golden energy shield of the palace began to rise, layer by layer, slowly climbing to protect the temple.
A thunderous boom split the air as the first shot was fired — a divine cannon scored a direct hit.
The Dark Elf ship shimmered into view, massive and oppressive, blotting out the sky. Compared to its hull, the Rainbow Bridge's control tower was as small as a seed.
The moment their presence was revealed, the mothership's engines roared like a beast's growl. Dozens of smaller ships poured out of its belly like a swarm of hornets, each one carrying warriors.
Their objective was clear: the temple.
They did not waste time with evasive maneuvers, nor did they attempt to destroy Asgard's defenses. They simply charged forward, desperate to reach the palace before the shield fully activated.
The divine turrets spat streams of golden light. One by one, the Dark Elf ships exploded into flames, leaving black smoke trailing across the sky. Some crashed into the shining streets below, crushing statues and scattering civilians.
But numbers were on Malekith's side.
By the time the shield had climbed halfway, a dozen ships broke through, plunging straight into the temple grounds.
One ship didn't even slow down. It tore through pillars, shattered walls, and skidded to a stop in the temple's central courtyard, leaving a trail of ruin in its wake.
Inside the dungeon below the temple, a different threat was stirring.
A monstrous creature — the Kursed, a mutated Dark Elf berserker — had been lying in wait. It pulled a jagged black stone from its own chest, blood like black oil glistening in the torchlight.
With a cruel smile, the creature crushed the stone in its palm.
Dark magic flared, and his flesh began to glow like molten iron. His body swelled, horns sprouting until he bore six in total, four crowning his head and two jutting from his jaw. The air seemed to tremble under the heat of his aura.
The other prisoners recoiled in terror, pressing themselves against the energy walls of their cells.
When the transformation was complete, the Kursed took two thunderous steps forward, grabbed a fellow prisoner, and hurled him against the glowing barrier. The honeycomb-patterned shield flared but held.
Unperturbed, the creature slammed the prisoner again and again until the alien's body was nothing but pulp. The shield finally flickered, then collapsed completely.
This was the Dark Elves' hidden trump card — the same creature who, in the original timeline, had slaughtered his way to Jane's chambers and killed Queen Frigga while Loki casually told him which staircase to take.
But this time, there was no Loki to guide him.
Instead of heading toward Jane, the Kursed beast charged toward the palace's energy core — the beating heart of the golden shield.
Most of Asgard's best warriors — Fandral, Volstagg, and even the palace guards — were outside battling the swarm. The energy chamber was poorly defended.
The Kursed creature smashed through everything in its path and reached the core — a glowing, five-meter-wide sphere, rotating slowly, its surface reflecting the shield's status across the city.
Without hesitation, the creature leapt and slammed into it.
The chamber erupted in a blinding explosion.
The Kursed was hurled across the room, but he had succeeded.
The golden shield began to flicker, losing power.
Moments later, it collapsed completely.
Seeing the shield vanish, the mothership released an even larger wave of strike craft, swarming the palace like wasps closing in on their prey.
Outside, Thor was a storm given form. He soared through the battlefield, lightning crackling across his armor, Mjolnir smashing through ship after ship. But there were too many. For every one he destroyed, three more slipped past, streaking toward the temple.
Inside Jane's chambers, Lock stood at the door, his senses sharpened to a razor's edge.
"Sif," he said calmly, "no matter what happens outside, do not leave this room. Protect the Queen and Jane."
Sif, clad in her golden armor, sword drawn, gave a firm nod. "Understood."
Jane's chamber had been chosen for its view, but that same openness now made it a target.
In the eyes of the Dark Elves, the ether particles within Jane shone like a beacon.
A formation of a dozen small ships broke away from the main swarm, fanning out and locking onto the attic.
They opened fire all at once, red energy blasts raining down like a storm.
Lock extended his hand, and a shimmering golden shield blossomed outward, enveloping the entire chamber. The blasts dissolved harmlessly against it, leaving only ripples of light.
Seeing their weapons were useless, one ship broke formation. Its engine flared blood-red, and it dove straight at the attic like a spear.
Lock's lips curved into a smile.
"You picked the wrong room."
He pulled his right arm back, waiting for the exact moment. As the ship closed in, he stepped forward and drove his fist through the barrier.
"Twenty times Hulk's strength."
His fist met the ship's prow.
A shockwave of pure white air exploded outward, rippling along the surface of the shield and rocking the entire building.
The ship stopped dead. Its engines continued to scream, pushing with all their might, but Lock's single punch held it frozen.
The hull crumpled inward like paper, folding around the point of impact. A heartbeat later, it tore apart, shredding into hundreds of fragments that scattered across the sky like shrapnel.
Some fragments slammed into other ships, sending them spinning off course.
The backlash of force made the entire attic shudder as though about to collapse, but Lock had already diverted most of the impact into himself. The structure held.
Every Dark Elf pilot in the sky hesitated, stunned.
A single man had just destroyed a warship with his bare fist.
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