Sokovia - Elric's Private Quarters
"Tell everyone not to bother me for the next few hours," Elric instructed through his neural link. "No interruptions. I don't care what happens unless the world is literally ending."
"Yes, boss," Aline's voice sounded as professional as always, not questioning the unusual order.
Elric settled into a comfortable position on his bed, back against the headboard, and took a deep breath to center himself.
He was currently stronger than Hela—the Phoenix Force had seen to that. And although he hadn't tested his full power yet, hadn't really cut loose with everything he now possessed, he should theoretically be stronger than the entire Asgardian military combined.
So there shouldn't be anything wrong with this, right? Just absorbing some memories. Simple.
He closed his eyes and reached out mentally to the clone still existing three thousand years in the past.
And directly disbanded it.
The effect was immediate and catastrophic.
Countless memories started to flood into his mind all at once—an avalanche of experiences, knowledge, sensations, emotions. Small things like casually sightseeing across Asgard and the Nine Realms. Medium things like learning ancient languages and magical theory. And massive things like absorbing the entire contents of Asgard's royal library, every single book and scroll memorized perfectly.
Three thousand years of continuous existence compressed into a single moment of transfer.
AHHHH!
An intense, searing pain speared through his head like white-hot knives digging into his brain. His vision went white, then black, stars exploding behind his eyelids. He almost fainted immediately, his body wanting to shut down to protect itself from the sensory overload.
"Fuck! This bastard!" he managed to grit out through clenched teeth, his jaw locked so tight he thought his molars might crack.
His hands gripped the bedsheets hard enough to tear them, knuckles white with strain.
If the Phoenix Force wasn't currently healing him—actively repairing the damage to his neural pathways as fast as the memory transfer caused it—he might have already passed out completely. Or in the worst-case scenario, the sheer overload could have burned out parts of his brain, leaving him a drooling vegetable.
Three thousand years of memories wasn't meant to be absorbed instantaneously by a human mind, enhanced or not.
It took almost a full hour for the initial pain to subside from "actively dying" to merely "extremely agonizing." Another two hours after that for him to return to something approaching his normal mental state, though his head still throbbed with a dull, persistent ache.
"Haff... Haff... Haff..." Elric panted, drenched in cold sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead.
"That bastard," he muttered darkly. "In the end, I didn't expect that I'd get stabbed in the back by my own bastard clone."
He'd given the clone strict, explicit instructions: Don't do extra things. Keep watch on Hela for safety. Learn the runic language and magic system. And if everything is going according to plan, don't engage in unnecessary activities. Just sit there quietly. The more the clone moved around, the more experiences it had, the more memories would be created that would eventually have to be transferred back.
Simple. Clear. Unambiguous.
Although the clone technically couldn't disobey direct orders—it was him, after all, bound by the same will—this bastard had taken the instructions to an extreme interpretation.
For the first hundred years, the clone had studied obediently. Learned runes, practiced magic, watched over Hela, kept a low profile.
But then, apparently, he'd gotten bored.
So the clone had directly taken Hela on an extended sightseeing tour across the entire Nine Realms. For almost two hundred years. Visiting every major world, exploring ancient ruins, attending festivals, witnessing cosmic events.
And then—then—the clone had gone to war alongside Hela against various threats to the Nine Realms. Full military campaigns. Battles against frost giants, dark elves, fire demons, and other cosmic threats.
All of this, technically, fell within his original order of "keep an eye on Hela." After all, you can't watch someone if you let them run off alone to war, right?
"This bastard," Elric repeated, shaking his head in grudging admiration and intense annoyance.
Anyway, after calming down sufficiently and confirming his brain wasn't going to melt, he started to carefully sort through and check the memories now residing in his mind.
After filtering out all the "filler" memories—scenic views, casual conversations, daily routines that didn't matter—he began to review the important parts.
His relationship with past-Hela had apparently developed quite a bit over those three thousand years. Much more than he'd expected or intended.
According to the memories now in his head, it could only be considered a very strong friendship. Close companionship built over centuries of shared experiences.
But looking back at the memories from before Hela had sent him to the past, examining how future-Hela had acted toward him with this new context...
It didn't look like the way someone would act toward just a friend. Not at all.
The way she'd looked at him.
He pushed that concerning thought aside for now. Too many implications to deal with immediately.
Focusing instead on the knowledge transfer, he found the memories he'd been most looking forward to receiving.
Runes. Almost the entirety of Asgardian runic knowledge, accumulated over millennia of study.
Countless runic formulas, spell matrices, enchantment patterns—all of it spilled into his mind like he'd been studying them personally for at least a thousand years. Which, technically, his clone had been doing.
But this was different from actually doing the work himself. This was experiencing the reward without the effort, like downloading skills directly into his brain.
Although that bastard clone had been a troll in many ways, taking liberties with his instructions and creating far more memories than necessary, he'd still accomplished something genuinely useful.
The clone had experimented extensively with runes, developing and testing new applications. And although not all of the experiments had succeeded, he'd developed some very useful spell formulas that didn't exist in standard Asgardian grimoires.
Hybrid enchantments combining different runic traditions. Efficiency improvements on classical patterns. Entirely new applications of old runes.
While Elric was experiencing and cataloging his newfound knowledge, simultaneously sorting through three millennia of accumulated magical theory...
Asgard - Same Moment
Inside Hela's private chambers in the palace, the Goddess of Death was sleeping lazily when suddenly a loud, urgent knock shattered her rest.
BANG BANG BANG!
"Ugh," Hela groaned, burying her face in her pillow.
This bastard. There were very few people still alive after bothering her during her rest—she could count them on one hand. And only one of those people had the audacity to come in the morning specifically to wake her up.
"If this isn't important, I'm going to stab you," she muttered, throwing off her covers and stalking toward the door.
While yanking the door open, she directly shouted without looking, "You bastard! How many times do I have to tell you not to bother me in the morning—"
Her words cut off abruptly.
Because the figure standing in front of her was not the familiar one she'd expected. Not Elric. Just one of her handmaidens, looking appropriately terrified at the outburst.
Hela's annoyance quickly subsided, replaced by mild embarrassment and then carefully neutral composure.
"What happened?" Her tone returned to calm, devoid of all the exasperation from moments before. Cold. Royal. Controlled.
"Lady Hela," the maid said nervously, bowing. "Lord Elric has... disappeared."
"Oh?" Hela's expression didn't change, but something flickered in her eyes.
This news didn't particularly surprise her. It had already been close to a month since they'd sent Elric to the past using the Time Stone and Hela's own temporal magic.
An unknowing smile appeared on her face—small, almost fond, quickly suppressed.
She'd been expecting this. Waiting for it, actually.
While tying up her loose hair into a more practical style, she started walking toward the Rainbow Bridge. After Borgin had destroyed the original during his rampage—using the Space Stone to shatter the crystalline structure—they'd already rebuilt it stronger than before.
The Rainbow Bridge - Minutes Later
"What?!" Hela's voice was sharp, dangerous. Her face darkened considerably. "So you're telling me the entire Earth has been blocked off by a barrier? Specifically preventing Bifrost travel?"
She stood before Heimdall, the all-seeing guardian, who looked distinctly uncomfortable delivering this news.
"No, Lady Hela, it's not exactly like that," Heimdall said carefully, choosing his words with extreme caution. "The barrier isn't blocking all access to Earth. It's specifically targeted at the Rainbow Bridge's signature. A very precise ward designed to deflect only Asgardian transit magic."
"Likely," Heimdall continued with slight hesitation, "Lord Elric doesn't want to meet with you right now. He's... avoiding you."
"That BASTARD!" Hela's eyes flashed with genuine anger.
She directly turned around, preparing to head back to the palace, her mind already racing through alternatives.
Did Elric think that just blocking spatial magic would keep her away? That she couldn't reach Earth through other means?
She'd simply take a conventional spacecraft to Earth. Fly there physically. See him try to avoid her then.
Although not being able to transit freely to one of the realms under Asgard's protection could be cause for major concern—potentially a diplomatic or military incident—most of the core members of Asgard's leadership were already familiar with the current unusual situation regarding Lord Elric.
They knew about the relationship. The history. The complications.
Heimdall watched her stormy exit with carefully hidden amusement.
Although the barrier Elric had erected wasn't particularly strong—using the Space Stone, the Rainbow Bridge could directly break through if they really wanted to—Heimdall had seen this pattern play out before.
Lady Hela might have a hot temper and be very stubborn at times, extremely headstrong and quick to violence. But every single time—every time—after getting coaxed and praised by Lord Elric, after he sweet-talked her or did something thoughtful, she obediently did exactly what Elric suggested.
Without fail. Every single time.
As an intelligent man who knew enough to stay out of relationship matters—especially when both parties might eventually become his future rulers—Heimdall wisely kept his observations to himself.
While he was thinking about the complicated dynamics between the goddess and the sorcerer, suddenly his all-seeing senses detected something.
Someone had just entered Asgard's outer defensive perimeter. Bypassed the spatial wards entirely.
Before he could raise an alert, before he could reach for his sword, a familiar voice sounded directly beside him.
"Yo, Heimdall! Nice to meet you," the voice said cheerfully, casual and warm. "Or should I say... long time no see?"
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