Loki's Chambers - Asgard
On the surface, Loki appeared perfectly composed.
But Ernst could see the microscopic shifts in his aura. The simulated nightmare had left deep, twisting scars on the prince's psyche.
"How was your journey?" Ernst asked lightly, wiping a speck of dust from his sleeve.
"I trust the gains were substantial."
Loki stared at the floor, his breathing shallow.
"Let us purge the redundant memories," Ernst continued, his voice shifting to a clinical monotone.
"We must prevent emotional amalgamation from fracturing your core identity. Cooperate. Retain only the combat insights."
Ernst extended his hand, pressing his fingertips to Loki's temples.
He initiated the psychic deletion protocol.
The memories of a giant's lineage, the icy plains of Jotunheim, and the face of Laufey slowly dissolved into static.
The purge progressed smoothly.
Then, Ernst targeted the faces of Sigyn and Hela.
Suddenly, a violent psychic resistance surged from Loki's mind.
The memory of his fabricated wife and daughter gazing at him with unconditional affection froze Loki's neural pathways.
He was vehemently, subconsciously fighting the deletion.
"Do not resist," Ernst warned, increasing the psychic pressure.
"These memories are false. If they root, they will alter your fundamental personality. You will become someone else."
Ernst pushed harder, aiming to eradicate the emotional ghosts.
Unexpectedly, Loki's resistance solidified into a mental fortress. He was clinging to the phantom pain.
Continuing the forced deletion risked permanently fracturing Loki's mind.
With a heavy sigh, Ernst withdrew his hand.
He looked at the trembling God of Mischief with a mixture of pity and annoyance.
"How did you manage that?" Ernst muttered.
"You snapped the connection. Do you truly cling to those fabricated emotions? They will only torment you."
Ernst shook his head.
"I cannot erase that specific trauma without your cooperation. I hope you do not regret keeping it."
Loki ignored him. He stared blankly at the far wall.
"Was everything I experienced just a fabrication?" Loki whispered, his voice cracking. "
Why does the grief feel so much?"
"Who knows?" Ernst shrugged.
"Perhaps it was a glimpse into a parallel timeline. But for you, here and now, it was just a dream that shatters upon waking."
"A dream," Loki echoed bitterly.
"Today, I discovered my true desire in that dream. It is not the throne. It is not raw power."
Loki looked up, his eyes shining with a strange, tragic clarity.
"It is recognition."
He thought of Odin, the father who rarely acknowledged him, and Frigga, the mother he secretly cherished above all.
Ernst clapped his hands, breaking the heavy atmosphere.
"Alright. You have made your choice. Our transaction is officially sealed. Do not forget my World Tree branch."
Loki inhaled deeply, instantly repairing his shattered composure. He buried the grief deep behind his usual, arrogant mask.
"Rest assured, Doctor," Loki asserted.
"I will uphold my end. I will procure the branch of Yggdrasil."
Loki was widely considered one of Asgard's most brilliant minds.
Despite the elite Einherjar guarding the World Tree, he was confident he could bypass the security.
"Take your time," Ernst said casually.
"I will not need it for a decade. Find a foolproof method. Do not cause a political incident on my behalf."
Satisfied, they returned to the table and toasted their dark bargain with golden wine.
The Bifrost - Asgard
Ernst knew his time in the golden realm was up.
He preferred to leave voluntarily rather than face the indignity of a forced eviction by Odin's guards.
He spent his final days integrating Asgardian light-energy technology into his personal gear.
He radically upgraded his wrist-computer, hardwiring the optical processor directly to his neural waves.
He visited Thor, bidding a polite farewell to the bruised but determined prince.
When Ernst officially requested to leave, Odin was visibly relieved.
The Allfather had been dreading the diplomatic nightmare of expelling the human.
Odin generously provided a sleek, high-speed interceptor spacecraft and personally escorted Ernst to the Rainbow Bridge.
Ernst assumed the Bifrost could drop him directly at his destination.
He learned quickly that cosmic politics were complicated. Asgard respected jurisdictional borders.
They could not simply fire a beam of light into another empire's territory.
The Bifrost transported Ernst to a neutral, designated relay planet.
From there, Ernst boarded his new Asgardian ship.
He programmed the nav-computer for a deep space jump.
Space-jumping felt identical to his phantom apparition magic.
It was a momentary folding of reality. Because of his hyper-dense physical constitution, he felt absolutely zero discomfort during the transit.
The journey would take two and a half hours.
Ernst activated the autopilot.
"Red Queen," Ernst commanded, stretching out in the pilot's chair.
"Take the helm. Wake me when we arrive."
A holographic projection of a red-haired girl flickered to life on the dashboard.
"As you command, Dr. Ernst," the AI replied smoothly.
"It is my honor."
Ernst closed his eyes, highly satisfied.
He had completely rebuilt the Red Queen using Asgardian light-tech. Her processing power was now astronomical.
Piloting a starship was a trivial background task for her.
Knowhere - Deep Space
"Dr. Ernst."
The Red Queen's voice cut through the silence of the cabin.
"We are approaching the destination. Commencing landing sequence."
Ernst opened his eyes and looked through the reinforced viewport.
He had read the files, but the reality was staggering.
Floating in the absolute void of space was a colossal, severed head.
It belonged to an ancient Celestial, a dead god from the dawn of time.
Knowhere.
Ernst docked the ship and stepped out into the chaotic, neon-lit sprawl built directly into the decaying brain matter of the dead titan.
It was a sensory overload.
Knowhere was the absolute epitome of cosmic lawlessness.
There were no governments, no police, and no rules.
It was a haven for interstellar predators, war criminals, escaped slaves, and black-market smugglers.
Ernst wandered through the bustling, grimy markets.
He was fascinated by the bizarre alien technology and biological specimens openly sold on the streets.
When he left Asgard, Odin had generously gifted him one million universal credits.
Ernst was fabulously wealthy, and he spent his money freely, buying anything that caught his scientific eye.
He didn't realize he was painting a massive target on his own back.
In Knowhere, extravagant spending was a dinner bell for predators.
Ernst was examining the fossilized skeleton of a multi-dimensional predator when a small voice piped up behind him.
"Sir? Do you need a guide?"
Ernst turned.
A young, dirt-smudged alien boy was looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.
Ernst smiled a gentle, grandfatherly smile. He patted the boy's head.
"I do, actually," Ernst replied.
"I need to find Taneleer Tivan. The Collector. Do you know where his museum is?"
"Of course, sir!" the boy beamed.
"I know these streets perfectly. Follow me!"
The boy turned and jogged down a narrow alley.
Ernst followed leisurely, his gentle smile turning into a cold, knowing smirk.
He had seen the micro-tremor in the boy's hands. He had seen the fleeting panic in the child's eyes.
Without breaking stride, Ernst extended a microscopic thread of telepathy, brushing against the boy's surface thoughts.
He saw the ambush waiting ahead.
Ernst sighed inwardly.
Knowhere was a brutal ecosystem. To survive here, children had to abandon their innocence instantly.
They were used as bait by the local syndicates.
Ernst felt no anger toward the boy. The child was just a victim of the environment.
As they walked deeper into the slums, a red-skinned alien watching from a balcony spat in disgust.
"Too bad Moro got to the rich guy first," the red alien grumbled to his scaled companion.
"I could have made a fortune off that mark. Moro's kid-bait trick works every time."
"Don't even think about interfering," the scaled alien hissed, looking terrified.
"Do you know who Moro is? He will turn you into biological slurry if you steal his mark. I won't even help them scrape you off the floor."
The red alien backed away, holding up his hands.
"Just a joke! I'm going to the bar."
Meanwhile, the little boy led Ernst down a dead-end, subterranean walkway.
The lighting was broken. The air smelled of ozone and rot.
Suddenly, the boy darted forward, sliding behind the massive legs of a two-meter-tall alien.
The alien was shirtless, his torso covered in thick, rock-like scales and jagged scars. He held a heavy plasma rifle.
Behind Ernst, three more armed thugs stepped out of the shadows, blocking the exit.
Ernst stopped walking.
He looked at the scarred alien. He looked at the heavy weaponry pointed at his chest.
A dark, genuine amusement flickered in Ernst's eyes.