The Open Battlefield — Thunder and Trickery
Svartalfheim and Alfheim burned.
But they did not fall.
Asgardian banners cut through the smoke as Thor descended like a living storm, lightning tearing through Muspelheim forces. Each swing of Mjolnir shattered enemy lines, rage and righteousness rolling together.
"For Asgard!" Thor roared.
Beside him, Loki moved differently.
Where Thor broke armies, Loki broke formations.
Illusions split enemy ranks.
Daggers flashed where shields lowered.
Confusion spread faster than fear.
Sif held the frontline with brutal efficiency.
Amora twisted enemy commanders with enchantments.
Lorelei shattered morale with song and will.
Svartalfheim and Alfheim held.
The Silent Front — Elimination
Elsewhere, far from banners and war cries—
Death came quietly.
Alexander moved through Muspelheim and Vanaheim like a shadow behind fate itself.
Kings fell in their thrones.
Generals collapsed mid-command.
Princes vanished without a sound.
Every target—
Sub–Heavenly Father to Heavenly Father level.
None escaped.
Beside Alexander—
Retsu Unohana moved like calm death, precise and merciless Scáthach struck before enemies sensed danger Saber Alter erased resistance with overwhelming dominance Grayfia froze entire command chambers in silent execution Jeanne d'Arc Alter burned traitors with judgment Morgan le Fay collapsed entire strongholds with runic curses Ciel ensured perfect efficiency
When it ended—
Muspelheim and Vanaheim were decapitated.
A Message to the Allfather
Alexander paused, eyes narrowing as he surveyed Svartalfheim and Alfheim's internal power.
"…As expected."
Only two or three Sub–Heavenly Father level elders remained.
Old.
Exhausted.
At their limit.
They posed no future threat.
Alexander left them alive.
A message reached Asgard.
No Heavenly Father-level threats detected in Svartalfheim or Alfheim.
Elders incapable of breakthrough.
Situation under control.
Odin read it.
And nodded once.
The Turning Tide
Alexander turned to his companions.
"Join the battlefield," he ordered calmly.
"Release Sub–Heavenly level power only."
They nodded.
And vanished.
Moments later—
The battlefield shifted.
Enemy morale collapsed.
Seven terrifying presences entered the war, overwhelming but restrained, enough to end resistance without annihilation.
Asgard's victory was assured.
The Castle of Hostages
Alexander moved alone.
Deep within enemy territory stood a fortified castle.
Kree technology layered with Skrull biomorph defenses.
Alexander frowned slightly.
"…Those two races despise each other."
Yet here they were.
"Idiots," he muttered.
Inside—
Three prisoners.
One from Svartalfheim.
Two from Alfheim.
He saw them.
And paused.
"…Huh."
The two Alfheim princesses bore striking resemblance—graceful, sharp-eyed, elegant.
The Svartalfheim princess stood strong, refined, carrying quiet dignity.
Alexander shook his head lightly.
"Focus."
The Dark Phoenix Descends
The sky screamed.
A colossal Dark Phoenix erupted into existence, wings blotting out light itself.
Void-black flames wrapped in cosmic gold slammed into the castle barrier.
The barrier shattered instantly.
Kree and Skrulls froze in terror.
"W–What is that?!"
Alexander descended.
And transformed back into human form midair.
Absolute Erasure
A barrier formed instantly around the three princesses.
They were untouched.
Then—
Alexander unsheathed his zanpakutō.
Ryūjin Jakka.
"Bankai."
The world went silent.
Zanka no Tachi.
The castle burned.
Not exploded.
Not shattered.
Erased.
Stone turned to nothing.
Metal vanished.
Kree and Skrulls disintegrated where they stood.
Fear was the last thing they felt.
When the flames faded—
Only scorched ground remained.
The Meeting
Alexander stepped forward, power suppressed but presence overwhelming.
"Are you hurt?" he asked calmly.
The three princesses looked up.
And froze.
The One Who Saved Them
Hair — molten platinum streaked with cosmic gold and void-black, flowing like living flame.
Eyes — molten solar gold, void swirling at the core, a silver ring rotating with timeless authority.
Their hearts raced.
Their faces burned.
"…N–No," one of them answered quickly.
Alexander smiled gently.
"I'm glad."
"What are your names?" he asked.
The two Alfheim princesses spoke.
"I am Aria."
"And I am Bela."
The third stepped forward proudly.
"Aisha Utgard of Svartalfheim."
Alexander inclined his head.
"Alexander Ashborn Odinson."
Their names lingered in the air.
And somewhere—
Something in the shadows realized—
The bait had not caught prey.
It had awakened a storm.