Three hours later, Thanos stood amidst a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, his cold gaze scanning the battlefield as he slowly sheathed the Tyrant's Blade. Around him floated the remains of over a million Asgardian gods—severed limbs, broken weapons, shattered armor, and lifeless bodies drifting in the vacuum of space. The sheer scale of death was staggering, almost impossible to quantify, yet every strike had been precise, every move calculated. In those three hours, he and his Black Order had obliterated more than a million enemies.
Capturing prisoners had been considered, at least briefly. But the Asgardian gods were warriors through and through—unyielding, defiant. Not one had surrendered, and not one had survived. They had all perished fighting, a testament to their stubborn valor and the inevitability of their defeat.
Above the battlefield, the five Black Obsidian Generals hovered in formation, then one by one dropped to a knee, suspended mid-air. The leader, General Corvus Glaive, bowed his head with profound respect.
"My lord," he said, voice low but steady. Witnessing Thanos crush Odin, annihilate the battlefield, and wield a power that dwarfed even the mightiest gods had cemented their loyalty. They had seen firsthand a level of destructive force no training or cultivation could achieve in a lifetime. This was power beyond the comprehension of mortals, a godlike authority that only Thanos commanded.
Thanos's eyes swept over them but lingered briefly before focusing on a more pressing matter.
"Where is Thor?" he asked, voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.
Although Odin had escaped, killing Thor would have been preferable. The thought of the half-god slipping away was clearly irritating.
The generals lowered their heads further in deference. The silence stretched until Thanos's patience waned.
"Don't tell me he got away?"
Corvus Glaive hesitated, swallowing hard. "My lord… we… we have not seen Thor."
Thanos's glare fell upon him like a physical weight, pressing down with a force that made every breath laborious. Corvus felt his chest tighten, his limbs almost failing under the pressure.
"How could even a half-dead man escape?"
Proxima Midnight quickly spoke up, bowing her head. "My lord, it is as follows. Supergiant and Ebony Maw feared that if the enemy fought with their backs to the wall, the Dark Order might suffer heavy losses. They decided not to seal the surrounding space, allowing the enemy to escape."
At the time, they had no knowledge that Sif had already fled with Thor. They assumed the enemy's escape was merely a strategic loophole.
Supergiant and Ebony Maw flinched at the indirect accusation, but before they could respond, Thanos's oppressive aura swept over them.
The five generals trembled under the weight of it. Cold sweat trickled down their foreheads, and every muscle seemed locked in tension. The air itself seemed to compress around them, forcing them to submit.
Finally, Thanos withdrew his aura, his voice calm but unwavering.
"Do not speak to me of strategy. My strategy is simple: eliminate as many enemies as possible. If Odin can harness the resources of an entire galaxy against us, we will not withstand it. Your tactical theories are meaningless in the face of my objectives."
Supergiant and Ebony Maw, who prided themselves on strategic foresight, now understood the vast difference between battlefield tactics and galaxy-spanning strategy. Their minds reeled with the consequences of their hesitation.
The five generals bowed once more, chastened. Corvus, especially, felt a deep pang of regret. He had witnessed godlike power firsthand, and failure to act decisively could have cost them the victory entirely.
"All fleets," Thanos continued, his gaze distant and calculating. "Prepare for pursuit. Follow the enemy's trail. Do not allow them to vanish into the void."
Spatial jumps always left faint traces, and Thanos possessed the technology to track them. There was no need for speculation; the path was clear.
The generals acknowledged the order and departed immediately, returning to their respective ships to lead the fleet in pursuit.
Meanwhile, on Asgard's Rainbow Bridge, Odin leaned heavily against the rail, chest rising and falling with labored breaths. His face was pale, a sheen of sweat reflecting the dim lights.
"Huff… damn… purple sweet potato spirit… huff…" he muttered, voice strained.
Heimdall approached swiftly, boots clattering against the bridge's stone floor. His expression was fraught with worry.
"God King, are you all right?"
Odin shook his head slowly, still trying to steady himself. "Heimdall… during the Council of the Gods, I heard tales of a warrior named Thanos from the neighboring Panlong Galaxy. I… laughed at the stories back then, convinced he could not best a Titan. How wrong I was."
Even without explicit acknowledgment, the events had proven his misjudgment. Thanos had displayed a level of skill and destructive power that few in the universe could comprehend. Odin had used every reserve, every artifact, every hidden card, yet the outcome remained uncertain.
The Mind Stone had left a particularly indelible impression, casting shadows of doubt over his judgment. It had been a projection, not the true Infinity Stones—but the implications of even a simulation shook him.
Fortunately, he recalled a device of his own creation, hidden within the treasure vault. Once, long ago, Odin had dreamed of collecting the Infinity Stones and ruling the universe. That dream had been abandoned due to the near-impossibility of tracking the stones' locations. Only one was known: the Mind Stone, now in the hands of a bald man far from Asgard.
He shook his head, banishing the thought. There were more immediate concerns.
Suddenly, Heimdall's eyes narrowed, pupils constricting sharply.
"God King, the enemy possesses the ability to track our fleet. They are following us."
Odin straightened immediately, anxiety flashing across his features. "What! Such a capability exists?"
Without waiting for further explanation, Odin strode out onto the bridge. Heimdall sighed, resigned, and continued monitoring the enemy fleet.
A short time later, Odin arrived at the Temple of Asgard and summoned the council members. The Asgardian power structure was peculiar but rigid: at the top stood the God King, followed by a House of Representatives of one hundred members. Each councilor was planetary-level, rivaling even the Warriors Three in strength. Each controlled their own star or planet within the Milky Way, a system so vast it could theoretically support tens of millions of politicians.
But Odin's tight control had prevented such a proliferation. Only his original followers, who had fought alongside him, had been given territory. This rigidity, once a sign of order, now revealed a critical vulnerability. Had his influence been more distributed, Asgard might have countered Thanos with hundreds of millions of ships. Instead, their resources were concentrated but insufficient, leaving them vulnerable to a galaxy-level threat.
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