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The prisoners' cheers hadn't even finished echoing when a wet snap cut through the air. Blood sprayed across the stone as a severed head bounced to the ground, eyes frozen wide in shock.
Screams erupted.
"My arm—my arm's gone!"
"Something stabbed me—what is that?!"
"Help! My stomach—ahhh!"
The Wraith was a blur of shadow, ripping through bodies like parchment. Arms were torn off. Chests punctured. One man's skull popped free from his shoulders as if yanked by an invisible noose.
Within a single minute, over a dozen prisoners were reduced to shredded remains.
The cramped cell reeked like a slaughterhouse. Blood pooled across the floor. Bones jutted from mangled flesh. The air was thick enough to choke.
Johnny stood in the doorway, pale but steady. His gut twisted, but he forced the nausea down. This was survival the law of the Marvel universe. Only strength mattered.
"Pathetic trash," he muttered coldly. "Not even worth the space they took."
The other prisoners, packed in neighboring cells, gaped in raw terror. Some whimpered. Others shrank back into the dark, too frightened to speak.
Then came heavy boots pounding closer guards.
"Who dares make this much noise in the dungeon?!"
"Switch patrol should've handled this—where the hell are they?!"
Five Asgardian wardens rounded the corner, muttering curses, expecting nothing more than a brawl between prisoners.
Johnny smiled thinly.
"Perfect timing."
He tightened his grip on the spear, feeling divine energy hum faintly in the shaft.
"Wraith. Kill them all."
The monster hissed, shadow-form rippling, and lunged forward. Two guards were gutted before they even registered the movement, talons buried deep in their stomachs. Blood spurted across the corridor.
The others turned in horror—just in time to see the Wraith's gaping jaws, still slick with gore.
"Master says… none of you leave alive."
It was too late to retreat. Talons' shredded armor. Flesh split. One guard's head popped like a melon under the crushing force of an energy-charged swipe.
When the screaming stopped, five corpses lay broken in the hall.
Johnny lowered his spear, exhaling slowly. The flood of stolen instincts rushed into his mind the guards' battle stances, their precision strikes, even the rhythm of channeling energy through the spear. The Devourer didn't just strengthen him. It taught him.
"Not just their strength," Johnny realized, lips curling. "I'm taking their skills, too."
The Wraith tore into the bodies hungrily, snapping bones and devouring flesh. Each crunch sent another surge of heat through Johnny's veins. His muscles coiled tighter, stronger. His senses sharpened.
Flames tingled in his fists borrowed from Muspelheim's fire giants. A frostbite chill licked across his skin the power of Jotunheim's icy kin. His veins were stitching together the energies of realms.
"This world runs on strength alone," he whispered, fire and ice flickering faintly in his eyes. "And now, strength is mine for the taking."
The dungeon shook with chaos shrieks, pleading, and the clang of cell bars as more prisoners cried out.
"Help us!"
"Let me out, I'll serve you!"
"No! Don't bring it here! Please, not me!"
Johnny's gaze was icy as he watched the Wraith rip another set of bars apart. More screams, more carnage. The feeding frenzy had begun.
And he didn't stop it.
Because with every corpse devoured, Johnny felt the ember of godforce inside him flare hotter.
"Kill them all," Johnny commanded, voice flat as steel. "Prisoners. Guards. Doesn't matter. Turn them into my strength."
The Wraith howled a sound like knives dragged over bone and vanished into shadow. Bloodcurdling screams erupted as it descended on the next block.
Johnny marched behind, his spear crackling with absorbed energy. His fear was gone. His hesitation, gone. Only hunger remained.
The Devourer was awake, and Asgard would pay the price.
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