The Dark Elves' massive flagship had pierced the earth like a jagged dagger, embedded just a stone's throw from the ruins of Avengers Tower.
A moment later, a gravity lift descended rapidly from the ship's hull, disgorging a swarm of Dark Elf soldiers onto the city streets.
Malekith, leader of the Dark Elves, looked over his kin—warriors who had slumbered alongside him for thousands of years. His eyes burned with a manic, unprecedented excitement.
"My people, the time has come for us to rise again! The Nine Realms shall return to eternal night!"
He pointed a pale finger toward the city. "Go! Find the Asgardian traitor, Loki! And slaughter anyone who dares stand in our way!"
"Yes, Master!"
The soldiers roared in unison and scattered to execute his will.
However, Algrim—Malekith's most trusted lieutenant—did not join the charge. Instead, he approached his leader cautiously, his voice low and respectful.
"Master, I thought we came here to ally with Loki? The agreement was that once we razed this city, he would hand over the Aether willingly."
Hearing this, Malekith turned away from the spectacle of the Midgardians' suffering to look at his loyal, strong, but admittedly dim-witted subordinate. He shook his head.
"The Trickster's word is worthless."
"He didn't greet us upon arrival, and worse, he's cloaking the Aether's energy signature. That reeks of betrayal."
"Then..." Algrim's face fell, worried that the prize was lost.
Malekith remained unbothered. "Fear not. How could an Asgardian bastard truly comprehend the majestic utility of the Darkness?"
"I can feel it... the Aether is close. As our people spread their influence through this realm, the connection will only grow stronger."
"Trust me, it won't be long before we sniff out Loki's hiding spot."
Just as the words left his lips—
Thoom.
A streak of hot-rod red and gold slammed into the pavement from the sky, landing heavily just a few yards away.
The impact kicked up a cloud of dust and debris, causing Malekith to frown in annoyance.
"Hey, pale-and-creepy. If you guys are hunting that greaseball Loki too, maybe we can skip the fighting and grab some shawarma instead?"
Tony Stark stood up, his tone flippant and casual.
But his posture was anything but friendly. He already had both arms raised, repulsors whining as they charged to full capacity, aimed dead center at the two elves.
Tony had rushed back from the Frost Giant skirmish in Brooklyn, originally planning to track down the kids, Luca and Gwen. But with Luca's comms offline and this skyscraper-sized ship parking itself in Manhattan, he had diverted immediately.
As for being "friends"?
Yeah, right. These aliens had turned New York into a slaughterhouse. As far as Tony was concerned, they were already dead men walking.
But before Tony could unleash his repulsors, the sky split open.
A figure wrapped in crackling lightning descended like a meteor.
Thor, arriving just a second behind Stark, didn't have the patience for quips. He had locked onto Malekith from high altitude and dove straight for the kill.
BOOM!
Violent lightning detonated on impact. The street buckled, sinking several feet into the ground. The shockwave launched Algrim, Malekith's loyal bodyguard, flying through the air like a ragdoll.
Malekith, however, was still the leader of the Dark Elves for a reason.
Though caught off guard, he managed to twist his body at the last second, narrowly dodging a fatal blow from Mjolnir. He couldn't avoid the follow-up, though—Thor's fist slammed into him, launching him backward where he crashed heavily against the armored plating of his own ship.
Thor didn't give him a second to breathe.
Seeing that Malekith was still moving, Thor stomped the ground and launched himself forward like a cannonball.
Bang!
Another explosion of sound.
Thor had Malekith pinned against the ship's hull, one hand clamped around the elf's throat. He raised Mjolnir with the other, pressing the hammer against Malekith's cheek.
"You monsters!" Thor roared, his voice trembling with rage. "Get! Off! Midgard! NOW!"
As he shouted, arcs of lightning jumped from Mjolnir, scorching black branding marks onto Malekith's pale face.
Yet, even pinned and burning, Malekith didn't panic. He simply stared back at the God of Thunder with a look of cold, mocking disdain.
Suddenly, Tony's voice came over the comms, sounding tense and urgent.
"Hey, Point Break. You might want to check your six. I think you just triggered that Orc's 'Phase Two' boss battle."
The "Orc" was, of course, Algrim, who had been tossed aside by Thor's earlier entrance.
The lieutenant had produced a glowing, black-and-red stone—a Kurse Stone—and crushed it in his hand.
Immediately, his body began to convulse, as if unable to contain the surge of chaotic energy.
Molten, lava-like veins erupted beneath the Dark Elf's skin. He thrashed on the ground, letting out guttural, agonizing roars.
Tony wasn't the type to stand around and watch a villain power up.
"Nope. Not happening."
Iron Man fired two distinct repulsor blasts at the transforming alien.
But Algrim, despite looking like he was dying of agony, didn't even flinch. The energy beams hit his body and dissipated harmlessly, like throwing pebbles at a tank.
"Oh, come on," Tony muttered. He fired his thrusters, rushing in to stop the transformation with blunt force.
But the universe, apparently, operates on anime logic: You never interrupt the transformation sequence.
A shockwave of dark, crimson smoke exploded outward from Algrim.
It mimicked the force of Thor's landing, catching the charging Iron Man mid-flight and blasting him backward.
When the red smoke finally cleared, Algrim stood tall.
He had doubled in size, his muscles swollen with unnatural power. The lava-like veins were fading into a hardened, obsidian hide. He looked less like an elf and more like a chaotic demon crawled straight out of Muspelheim.
Algrim was gone.
Kurse had arrived.