"Is that so? You're quite the genius in this field," Yelena said with a smile. "Then you should be able to figure it out yourself. But—don't underestimate the materials."
She tapped the table lightly."The materials determine the upper limit of your MK armor. If the metal you use can't withstand enough force, or if its flexibility and reaction speed aren't optimized, you can forget about matching high-level combat power."
Tony nodded thoughtfully.
Then Yelena's eyes shifted slightly. Something crossed her mind, but she didn't say it out loud.If Stark was smart enough, he'd eventually reverse-engineer the divine weapon she'd once given Natasha—and from there, perhaps he'd discover what truly defined Temple-tier armor.
Tony sank into silent contemplation while the others continued chatting. Soon the chefs arrived, bringing out plates of steaming delicacies.
The lively atmosphere filled the villa.
Hulk, as always, was the king of the dining table. His appetite was terrifying—every bite disappeared as fast as he could reach for the next plate. He wasn't eating for energy; he was eating for joy.
While Hulk was happily devouring his meal, far away—deep in another realm—Jason found himself utterly confused.
He still had his own mind, though his thoughts were driven mostly by violence and the instinct to kill. Yet now, those instincts were being suppressed—smothered by the divine aura Yelena had left on him.
In this strange new world, that suppression only grew stronger.
The air was thick with dread. Every breath carried an ancient, chilling pressure. If not for his repeated resurrections having tempered his body and soul, Jason would've collapsed immediately. Even now, he trembled uncontrollably, as if trapped in an unending seizure.
He stood inside a vast and somber palace, ornate yet eerie.
The walls were carved with bones and skulls—each skull radiating the lingering power of what it had once been. These weren't mere decorations; they were trophies of gods and demons.
As Jason tried to process where he was, a voice echoed through the hall.
In a flash of dark-green mist, a woman appeared before him—elegant, graceful, and exuding an overwhelming, royal presence.
Her long black gown shimmered like flowing shadow. Her gaze was sharp, cold, and beautiful enough to make one's soul tremble.
Jason's primitive mind reacted instantly.
With a loud thump, he dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead against the cold marble floor. His hulking frame shook violently in reverence and fear.
Hela, Goddess of Death, raised an eyebrow and gave a small, amused laugh.
"Well, at least you're not completely stupid," she said lightly. "You fear power—but you also know when to submit. That's… acceptable."
She examined him with casual detachment."I was going to use you as test material for a new experiment," she mused. "But that might be a waste."
Jason froze. His body twitched violently—no longer trembling, but spasming with terror.
(Oh no oh no oh no—please don't kill me, I'm just a baby!)
"Stand," Hela commanded.
Jason obeyed instantly. Though still shaking, he forced himself upright, puffing his chest out like a soldier before inspection.
Hela walked a slow circle around him, observing carefully. "Hmm… interesting. A fragmented soul, forged through endless death and rebirth. Cursed, yet immortal. The structure of your life essence is… fascinating."
She smiled faintly. "Yelena has given me a fine gift."
"From this moment, you belong to me. My servant. My… pet. But you're far too weak as you are."
Her eyes glimmered mischievously. "We'll have to strengthen you. And when I'm away from Helheim, you'll stay behind to guard the palace. Understood?"
Then, almost playfully, she snapped her fingers."Fenris!"
A deep growl answered from the shadows.
A monstrous figure emerged—massive, fur as black as night, eyes burning faintly red. His fangs glinted like swords, and his presence alone radiated primal terror.
Jason took one look and nearly collapsed again. The beast towered over him—three, maybe four meters tall—muscles rippling beneath its hide, radiating raw, untamed power.
It was Fenris, the legendary wolf, once bound beneath Odin's treasure vault.
During her rebellion, Hela had refused to let her father's pet languish any longer. Two years ago, she tore open the seals and summoned Fenris to Helheim, where the wolf now served as her most loyal companion.
Even Odin knew—and had said nothing.
Fenris was a divine beast, once considered the equal of Odin's eight-legged steed. Under Hela's tutelage, his strength had grown even further.
Now, Fenris lowered his massive head. His glowing eyes softened as Hela reached up to stroke his fur affectionately.
"Good boy," she murmured. "Take this one to the Hades Pool. He's filthy. Give him a proper bath."
Jason's mind went blank in horror.
Fenris growled low in his throat, baring his fangs in what might have been a grin. Then, with a swish of his tail, dark-green flames enveloped them both—and they vanished.
When they were gone, Hela began to hum thoughtfully.
"Hmm… interesting little creature. If I reforge him properly, he could rival even Fenris one day."
She waved her hand, summoning piles of strange treasures—bones glowing with runes, demon hearts pulsing faintly, crystalline bloodstones, and countless rare materials.
"This one's no good… this one's too soft… ah, but this one—this one's promising," she muttered, sorting through them like a child picking jewels.
Creating new toys always brought her joy—especially when she could use them to beat up her brothers later. Just imagining it made her grin wickedly.
But before she could continue, a pair of strong hands slipped around her waist from behind.
A deep, amused voice murmured at her ear:"My dear Lady Hela… what are you scheming this time?"
She didn't even turn her head. "Just selecting materials," she said smoothly. "Yelena sent me a lovely little plaything."
Leon, the God-King of the Sanctuary, blinked and chuckled as the realization struck him.
"Jason, huh?"
Even for someone at his level, the creation of such a unique life form was impressive. It was no wonder Hela was practically glowing with excitement.
If properly reforged, Jason could easily become a Demon Lord—a subordinate worthy of the gods themselves.
And for Hela, who delighted in cultivating armies of the dead, such a project was irresistible.
As for loyalty? Neither Leon nor Hela worried about that.
Hela's mastery of soul contracts was unmatched. Even Mephisto and Satan had lost to her in that domain.
Leon chuckled and lowered his voice. "Still, if you want him strong, you'll need the right… form."
His hands wandered as he leaned closer.
Hela's lips curved, pretending to be annoyed. "Stop distracting me."
"Oh, come now," Leon teased. "A warrior needs a proper body—strong, towering, powerful. You wouldn't want your pet to be… frail, would you?"
She gave him a dangerous look, but his grin only widened.
When he went too far, Hela's patience snapped. Her fist shot back—sparks of deathly green light exploding across the room.
Leon just laughed and caught her wrist. Their microcosms collided—his Eighth Sense Cosmos flooding through the hall in waves of blinding radiance and icy death.
For a time, the entire palace trembled under their divine clash.
Eventually, Hela faltered—her body shuddering under Leon's overpowering cosmic will.
When it ended, she lay sprawled across the cold stone floor, panting, glaring daggers at him.
Leon stood over her, smirking. "Still as fierce as ever," he said softly.
Hela's regenerative power quickly restored her composure. Rolling her eyes, she rose again, choosing to focus on her project rather than his arrogance.
"Enough," she muttered. "I have work to do."
Leon settled lazily on her throne, watching as she began assembling components—hearts, bones, demon blood, spectral essence—each floating in midair under her control.
Soon, Fenris returned, padding softly into the hall with Jason beside him.
The killer's appearance had changed dramatically: the filth was gone, replaced by pale gray-white skin, now smoothed and clean. His once grotesque features remained hidden behind his iconic hockey mask.
But his aura—his presence—was entirely different.
Jason could feel the gaze of divinity pressing down on him again. That immense power nearly crushed his body and soul, but at the last moment, Hela pulled it back, allowing him to breathe.
Still, he couldn't stop trembling. Not from fear—but from numbness.
Hela smiled slightly. "Good. You've adapted."
"Now then—let's begin the next step."
She raised a hand. A sphere of blazing green soul-flame formed, engulfing Jason completely.
The materials she had chosen earlier turned into streaks of light and merged into his body one by one.
Jason's eyes widened. The agony that followed was indescribable—his flesh and spirit burned, torn apart, reforged, over and over.
He couldn't scream. He could only endure.
Fenris lay down nearby, watching silently with glowing eyes as his "new companion" was remade in fire and pain.
After what felt like eternity, the ghost-flames faded.
A brutal, feral energy burst from Jason's body like a hurricane—then instantly withdrew under Hela's sharp gaze.
He dropped to one knee, bowing deeply.
His transformation was complete.
His skin had darkened into obsidian armor-like scales. His mask—now jet black and lined with faint, twisting runes—hid his face completely. The tattered farm clothes were gone, replaced with a fitted dark combat coat, sleek and imposing.
The air around him shimmered with deathly power.
Hela's eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
Much better.
Jason's previous form had been crude, almost embarrassing. Now, he radiated elegance, menace, and strength.
She nodded approvingly. "Perfect. I won't have my servants mocked for their appearance."
And in terms of power—after fusing the hearts, bones, and eyes of multiple Demon Lords, plus layers of divine-grade material—Jason's strength had multiplied severalfold.
A new monster had been born in Helheim.
(End of Chapter)
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