Frank's shotgun barked. There was no muzzle flash, no familiar scent of gunpowder. A pitch-black slug tore through the air, slamming into a ninja's skull. This time, the body didn't vanish into ash. The head simply ceased to exist, and the corpse slumped into the dirt.
"Who's there!" Danny Rand shouted, his fist glowing with the power of the Iron Fist as he sent a ninja flying. He was grateful for the help, but he wasn't about to drop his guard.
Frank's response was a rhythmic sequence of triggers. One by one, the ninjas were "called" by the Void, falling like dominoes.
"A pleasant surprise... so these guys count as 'interesting' too?" Frank whispered.
He watched as the ninjas' souls—usually bound by dark resurrection rites—were torn away like birds returning to a nest, sucked directly into his ring. Frank finally understood how to kill them permanently: you had to steal what made them move.
The ring hummed. It wasn't enough to free his family, but it was growing. He felt a primal instinct that if he executed enough of these scumbags, he could demand a price from Death itself.
Within seconds, the alley was silent. Only Danny Rand remained, staring in bewilderment at the pile of headless, very permanent corpses. Before the sirens could get close, Frank vanished into the shadows, heading toward the next gang hideout. The Hand had just become a non-renewable resource, and Frank Castle was hungry.
"We require isolation to handle our affairs. Step aside. The Asgardians allow you to gaze upon the faces of gods, but do not come closer!"
Tyr—now the Sky-Hammer Worthy: The Will-Breaker—bellowed at the SHIELD agents. He needed to spread fear, but Diablo's orders were clear: don't reveal the true nature of the plan too soon.
The SHIELD agents were already shivering. The presence of ten thousand alien warriors was terrifying enough; the presence of an angry "God" was overwhelming. Gods weren't vending machines for wishes; they were bringers of judgment.
"Our orders are to fulfill your needs. Please, don't make this difficult," the lead agent said, his voice trembling despite his training.
"You stand before a deity! Know your place, mortal!" Tyr's aura of the God of War flared, a violent pressure that slammed into the humans.
Behind him, the Asgardian refugees were drowned in the grief of their lost home. None of them stood up for the humans—except for the few who had been on Earth for a while.
"Tyr!"
The speaker was Lady Sif. Among the refugees, she held the highest status as Thor's betrothed and the future Queen. Because she hadn't witnessed the "Serpent" Cul crushing Odin and Frigga personally, she wasn't as hopeless as the others. As long as Thor lived, there was a chance.
"Sif! You dare speak for these disrespectful mortals?" Tyr's rage was a calculated performance. "Remember your station! Even in exile, we are the Gods of Asgard!"
Tyr's voice boomed, accompanied by rolls of thunder. Even Mjolnir, sitting in its crater nearby, began to vibrate. Every Asgardian turned to look. Mjolnir was their symbol of hope. If Tyr could lift it, they would have a new pillar to lean on.
"But they are innocent! If Thor were here, he would never allow this!" Sif cried out, though her eyes held a flicker of doubt. Tyr was the god of justice and contracts. Why was he wielding the power of Lightning?
"Thor? Where is he? While we fought for our lives, where was the Prince of the All-Father?" Tyr roared.
Beneath him, Diablo (possessing Cul in Asgard) pushed the Serpent's power through the realms. Cul, the true original master of the hammer before Odin, could easily make the weapon react.
"My messenger," Cul's voice echoed in Tyr's mind. "Lift the hammer at your feet. Then, you shall lift Mjolnir."
Diablo, the Lord of Terror, recognized the "Son of Odin" hammer beneath Tyr. He had felt its sting during his battle with Bul-Kathos. Now, he saw a way to make Tyr the false hope of the Asgardians. If they believed in Tyr as their King, the fear generated when he eventually betrayed or "failed" them would be a hundred times more delicious.
"Now, tell me! What has Thor been doing? What have you been doing while our world burned?" Tyr demanded. The refugees began to look at Sif and the Warriors Three with suspicion.
Tyr stepped toward the two hammers: the Sky-Hammer 'Son of Odin' and Mjolnir. He reached out with his lone arm.
With a grunt of feigned effort, he hoisted the Sky-Hammer high. Because he only had one arm, no one questioned why he didn't grab Mjolnir first.
Then, the lightning struck.
Diablo channeled Cul's divine power through the Sky-Hammer into Tyr's body. A blinding pillar of white-hot electricity vaporized Tyr's flesh for a split second, only for him to emerge whole, his eyes glowing with thunder.
And his missing arm... it had grown back.
"Tyr! Tyr!" the Asgardians screamed in awe.
Tyr reached out with his new hand and gripped the handle of Mjolnir. Against the might of the Lord of Terror, Odin's enchantments were suppressed. Tyr raised Mjolnir toward the heavens.
The horror and despair of the refugees transformed instantly into a feverish, fanatic carnival. They had a new King. Thor was a memory; Tyr was their salvation.
Sif watched, speechless. Tyr was now the God of Thunder and the King of Asgard. Even if Thor returned now, he would be a stranger to his own people.
Nearby, the Worthy: Sin (Skadi) gripped her own Sky-Hammer and slammed it into the earth. The ground cracked, jolting the Asgardians out of their worship and back into panic.
"Now, mortals!" Tyr roared at the SHIELD agents. "How will you face your Gods? Will you build us a kingdom, or will you crawl like ants beneath our judgment?"
Thunder scorched the earth around the agents. SHIELD's elite did what they were trained to do when faced with a threat they couldn't comprehend: they raised their guns.
In the shadows of the ruins of Asgard, Diablo smiled.
Fear was a spectrum. Some cried, some fainted, but a warrior fought. As long as they fought, there would be war. As long as there was war, there would be loss. And the fear of losing what one loves... that was the sweetest nectar of all.
"Spread the panic," Diablo hissed. "Bring war. Bring death. Bring despair. And then... give them a little love. Only the fear born of love is truly divine."
Suddenly, Diablo paused. He sensed something. At the peak of the ruins, a figure with an oversized head stood silently, watching.
Uatu the Watcher.
"I am the King of Gods!" Diablo roared, maintaining the persona of Cul. "I have nothing for you to witness, Watcher!"
He had to stay in character. If the Watchers realized an outsider—a Demon Lord—had usurped this reality's rules, they might actually intervene.
In the Mirror Dimension, the Sorcerer Supreme, Ancient One, watched the scene. She had felt the massive energy shift when the Rainbow Bridge was destroyed. She had tried to reach Asgard for hours, but a dark veil had blocked her.
She stepped through a portal just as Tyr was about to begin his slaughter.
"Tyr, what are you doing?" she asked, her voice calm but echoing with power.
The moment she appeared, all of Tyr's divine theatrics vanished. He knew better than to play games with the Ancient One. She was on the same level as Odin.
"Respected Sorcerer Supreme," Tyr said, dropping his head in a show of feigned grief. "The Serpent, Cul, has taken the Golden Hall. Heimdall destroyed the Bifrost to save us. We are all that remains."
"Dead? Or sealed?" she asked, ignoring his previous aggression for the moment.
"My Father and the Queen were cast into a void by a sneak attack. We stood no chance," Tyr lied.
The Ancient One frowned, but her suspicion didn't fall on Tyr. Tyr was the God of Contracts and Justice; it was cosmically impossible for him to lie. Or so the rules of this universe dictated. She didn't realize that the man before her was no longer just Tyr—he was a puppet of Terror.
"I understand your grief," she said. "But Earth is not your playground. Do not test my patience again."
"My apologies, Sorcerer Supreme. I... I lost myself," Tyr stammered, playing the part of the distraught prince perfectly.
Far away, Diablo began to calculate. The Ancient One was a problem. If he wanted to harvest Earth's fear, she would have to be removed.
Back on Mount Arreat, Natasha Romanoff finally found Thor. He had just emerged from a Nephalem Rift, covered in demon blood and wielding the Butcher's Cleaver.
"Thor!" Natasha shouted.
"Natasha! You're back? Do you have news of Sif?" Thor asked with a boisterous grin. He had been training hard, terrified of what would happen if he failed Kanuck or Vorusk.
"Asgard has fallen, Thor," Natasha said, her face grim. "The survivors—ten thousand of them—are in New Mexico."
Thor's grin vanished. He gripped Natasha's shoulders with enough force to bruise. "What did you say?"
"Tyr led them there," she added.
"My father... Has Ragnarok come?" Thor's voice was hollow. Every Asgardian lived in the shadow of that prophecy.
"I don't know," Natasha said. "Tyr didn't say much."
"Then I am their last hope. I must leave the mountain! Vorusk!" Thor turned to the Barbarian King, his eyes burning with desperation.
Vorusk, the Immortal King, pulled at his lion-like mane, silent. He had seen Odin recently; the All-Father hadn't looked like a man facing the end of the world.
"I think you should wait," Vorusk said, his hand heavy on Thor's shoulder. "Rash actions only bring bitter fruit. I learned that the hard way when I led my people to their graves."
"It's different! I am an Asgardian!" Thor shouted.
"Boy," Vorusk growled, his grip tightening until Thor couldn't move. "You might be old in years, but your mind is that of a twenty-year-old brat. You need to be calm. A King does not run; a King leads."
"I have to see them!" Thor challenged, refusing to look away.
Vorusk saw the fire in his eyes. He realized he couldn't stop him. "Fine. Your power is ready... but you need to know what you're walking into."
Vorusk grabbed Thor and took off toward the peak. If Thor was going back, he would need the help of the only one who could truly tip the scales.
He needed to see Bul-Kathos.
-------------------------------
I've already uploaded 30 chapters of this story on Patreon!
If you enjoy it, come check out the latest chapters in advance.
Here's the link:
[pat*eon*com/DaoistRoeoNQ]
Thank you so much for your support!!!
"And If you're enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!"