Inside the royal bedchambers, the air was thick with the scent of burning incense and fear. Odin, the King of Asgard, lay upon his gilded dais, his breathing slow and rhythmic as the Odin-Sleep claimed his consciousness. He was a statue of flesh and bone, oblivious to the fact that his kingdom was being torn asunder stone by stone.
Before him stood Queen Frigga. Her regal stature did not waver, though her hands were clasped tightly over the hilt of an Uru blade. Her eyes, usually full of wisdom and warmth, were clouded with a mother's worried dread. Surrounding her was a gaurd of the Einherjar—Asgard's elite—their spears leveled at the heavy oak-and-gold doors.
A massive tremor shook the foundations of the room. Dust filtered down from the vaulted ceiling, coating Odin's peaceful face in a layer of pulverized marble which Frigga swiflty brushed off him. One of the younger warriors stumbled, his spear clattering against the floor as the very bedrock of the palace vibrated.
"Steady thy hearts, brave sons of Asgard!" Frigga's voice rang out, clear and melodic despite the chaos. "The All-Father rests, and while he dreams, we are the shield that guards his sleep. Let no shadow pass this threshold!"
"My Queen," a captain of the guard rasped, his eyes fixed on the ceiling where a fresh crack was snaking through a mural of the World Tree. "What manner of beast rages without? The thunder of its fists rivals the hammer of Prince Thor itself. Hath the Midgardian serpent found its way to our gates?"
Frigga turned her gaze toward the high, narrow windows. "A serpent of a different kind, Captain. One born of mortal folly and fueled by a rage that knows no end." She closed her eyes for a brief moment, her lips moving in a silent, desperate prayer. Thor, my son... wheresoever thou art, find thy strength. Thy home bleeds, and thy father's life hangs by a thread of golden silk.
Outside the chambers, the palace hallway had been transformed into a house of ruins.
The Hulk thrashed his massive, trunk-like arms with the mindless destruction of a landslide. Each swing of his fists shattered the obsidian pillars and sent chunks of the floor, weighing several tons each, flying through the air like shrapnel.
Logan, in his hulking, black-furred werewolf form, he moved on all fours, his powerful hind legs launching him from the walls to the ceiling and back again. He used the Hulk's massive size against him, pivoting around the giant's slow, sweeping blows.
SHLKT-SHRAK!
Logan's finger-claws, elongated and jagged, tore through the Hulk's thigh, while his adamantium claws—now glowing a terrifying, molten orange from the Hot Claws skill—sliced deep into the giant's ribs. The heat hissed as it hit gamma-irradiated blood, cauterizing the wounds as it opened them, forcing the Hulk's healing factor to fight through the sear.
The Hulk let out a roar that physically pushed the air out of the corridor. He was tired of the flea. He brought his hands together in a thunderous clap aimed at the wall Logan was perched on.
P-KROOOOOM!
The sonic boom pulverized the stone, sending a shockwave that would have liquefied a normal human's organs. Logan launched himself a millisecond before impact, a black blur silhouetted against the fire. He didn't retreat. He dove straight for the Hulk's face.
Mid-air, Logan's jaws unhinged. He buried his muzzle into the column of the Hulk's throat.
CRUNCH.
His canines, imbued with the ancient curse of the werewolf, sheared through layers of iron-hard muscle. A geyser of radioactive green blood sprayed Logan's face. But as the teeth sank in, the Hulk's flesh didn't just tear—it rotted. A black, necrotic stain spread from the bite, the veins turning a bruised, cursed purple. The Hulk's infinite regeneration hit a dead end. The supernatural poison of the wolf was shutting down the gamma-spawned cells.
The Hulk's roar turned into a choked, wet gargle of pure agony. He grabbed Logan by the waist, his massive fingers digging into the werewolf's spine, and hammered a fist the size of a furnace into Logan's gut.
WHAM!
Logan was launched backward, crashing through three stone walls before coming to a stop in a pile of debris. He didn't stay down. His muscles pulsed with a red, inner fire, the Berserk Rage forcing his broken body back into the fight. He scrambled out of the rubble, his claws sparking against the floor as he prepared to lunge again.
Sif watched from the edge of the ruin, her spirit burning with a shame that was sharper than any blade. She saw the "mortal" beast—this wolf man—bleeding for a kingdom that was not his own. She saw him tearing at the monster with a savagery that put the Valkyries to shame.
"Shall I sit here like a wounded doe?" she hissed, her eyes igniting with the fire of the Aesir. "NAY! I am Sif! I am a warrior of Asgard!"
She found a fallen spear and used it as a crutch to heave herself up. With a scream that echoed with the pride of a thousand years, she charged. The Hulk was occupied, grappling with Logan who had just leaped back onto his chest. Sif didn't aim for the limbs. She launched herself into the air, her enchanted blade held in a two-handed grip.
"FOR THE ALL-FATHER!"
She plunged the sword deep into the Hulk's back, burying the steel up to the hilt between his massive shoulder blades.
The Hulk's eyes bulged. The combined pain of the necrotic bite and the Asgardian steel drove him into a state of primal, mindless madness. He didn't even turn. He executed a brutal, shattering Spartan kick that sent Logan flying through a pillar, then he threw himself backward.
BOOM!!!!!!
The Hulk hit the ground on his back with the force of a boulder. Sif was crushed beneath him, the sound of her silver armor buckling and her ribs snapping echoing through the hall.
The Hulk rolled over, his face a mask of sweating, green hatred. He grabbed Sif by her head, his massive palm covering her entire face, and he threw her with a casual, terrifying flick of his wrist. She was a silver projectile, heading straight for a jagged, broken archway.
Logan, sensing the kill-shot, pushed his body past to its limit. He launched himself, catching Sif mid-air, but the momentum was too much. They slammed into the stone wall together, the impact creating a crater of shattered marble.
Logan groaned, his vision swimming. He looked up, and his blood ran cold.
A thick, heavy bank of grey clouds had drifted over the moon. The silver light vanished.
His full werewolf form shifted back, Logan felt his body convulse. His fur receded, his snout flattened, and his bones ground against each other as they shrank back into a human frame. His Berserk Rage timer hit zero. The adrenaline drained away, replaced by the bone-crushing weight of his adamantium skeleton and a thousand fresh wounds.
"D-dammit..." Logan rasped, coughing up a mouthful of red.
He lay there, human again and broken, in the middle of what was essentially a war zone. Sif was draped over his chest, her breathing shallow and ragged.
"Hey," Logan grunted, shaking his head to clear the red haze. "You still... drawin' air, girly?"
Sif opened her eyes, her gaze flickering to Logan's human face. She saw the grit, the slow healing scars, and the eyes of a man instead of the eyes of a beast. She managed a weak, pained nod. "Thy heart... is that of a lion, noble warrior. My thanks... for the rescue."
"Don't get mushy on me," Logan grunted. He pushed himself up, his bones clicking into place with agonizing slowness. He offered her a hand.
Sif took it, her fingers gripping his with surprising strength. They stood together, two battered warriors against a god-killer.
Across the hall, the Hulk was heaving. The bite on his neck was still black, but a toxic green glow was pulsing beneath it. The gamma was winning. The necrotic flesh was being burned away by sheer, radioactive spite. The black skin peeled off, revealing fresh, angry green muscle.
Logan let his claws slide out. They were silver again—no heat, no wolf. Just metal and muscle. "Great," he muttered. "The big green bastard's getting his second wind."
He looked at Sif. "You got any more fight in ya?"
Sif stood tall, her hand moving to a dagger at her hip. A fierce, beautiful smile touched her lips. "Until the stars fall from the sky."
"That's what I like to hear."
While the palace burned, Amora the Enchantress was moving through the frozen peaks outside the city.
She found him in a crater of ice and scorched earth. Thor, the Prince of Thunder, was a broken god. His golden hair was matted with gore, his wrist was shattered, and his breathing was a wet rattle. Mjolnir lay five feet away, burried in a pile of rock.
Amora knelt beside him, her emerald robes soaking in the slush. She gathered his head into her lap, her fingers trembling.
"Thor," she whispered, her voice cracking with a vulnerability she never showed. "My Prince. My love. Look what I have done in my pride. I sought thy heart, and instead, I have brought the end of thy world."
She looked at the palace, where the golden spires were falling.
"I wanted thee to see me," she breathed, tears tracking through the dirt on her face. "I wanted thee to know that my love was greater than any mortal's or any warrior's. But I did not want thy death."
She leaned down. She didn't use a spell of words. She used a spell of healing. She pressed her lips to his, pouring every ounce of her divine essence, her magic, and her desperate regret into the kiss.
VROOOOOOM.
A pillar of blinding white lightning erupted from the mountaintop, piercing the purple clouds.
Thor's eyes snapped open. They were no longer blue; they were white-hot arcs of electricity. He sat up with a roar that shook the very foundation of the mountain. His broken wrist snapped back into place with a sound like a hammer hitting an anvil.
He reached out his hand. Mjolnir flew like a bullet through the air, hitting his palm with a strike that created a thunderclap heard across the Nine Realms. Thor stood up, his cape snapping in a hurricane of his own making.
He looked at Amora. His face was a mask of cold, divine retribution.
"Amora," Thor rumbled, his voice the sound of a thousand storms. "Where is Loki?"
Back at the palace, the fight had become a desperate, bloody struggle.
Logan and Sif were fighting in sync as if they'd fought together before. Sif was a blur of steel, her dagger finding the soft joints in the Hulk's knees, while Logan used his small size to stay under the giant's guard, his adamantium claws carving deep, silver lines into the Hulk's shins and stomach.
But the Hulk was done playing.
He let out a scream of pure, unadulterated hatred and he brought both of his massive, tree-trunk arms down onto the floor with the force of a thousand-ton hammer.
THOOOOOM!!!!!!!!!!!
The bedrock of Asgard caved into itself. The entire corridor collapsed into a sea of shifting stone. Logan and Sif were caught in the shockwave, launched backward like dolls. Logan slammed into a fallen pillar, the air leaving his lungs in a red mist. Sif hit the far wall, sliding into the dust, her armor shattered.
The Hulk stood in the center of the ruins, a silhouette of destruction. He began to run, his massive feet creating mini-earthquakes with every step as he prepared to crush them both.
BOOM!
A bolt of emerald-green magic slammed into the Hulk's chest, lifting him off his feet and sending him skidding back fifty feet.
Amora stood at the entrance of the ruined hall, her hands wreathed in swirling, toxic green energy. She looked down at Sif and Logan, her eyes flashing with a wicked, familiar arrogance.
"Verily, Sif," Amora mocked, her voice like velvet. "Lying in the dirt, covered in the filth of the earth... it is a look that finally suits thee."
Sif snarled, spitting blood. "Witch! Thou art the source of this plague! Thy head should be on a pike!"
Amora didn't flinch. "Thor and Loki are concluding their business. They require but a few moments more to spring the trap. See that thou dost not perish before then, warrior-maid."
She fired another bolt of magic at the Hulk, who was already pushing himself back up. The giant crossed his arms, the magic splashing off his skin like rain off a roof.
Logan looked up. The clouds were thinning.
The moon emerged once more, its silver light bathing the hall in a ghostly glow. Logan felt the familiar, violent itch in his marrow. His heart began to drum a war-beat against his ribs.
"More time, huh?" Logan growled, his voice shifting into a low, predatory rasp.
He looked at the Hulk. He reached out and dragged his claws across a stone pillar, leaving three deep, jagged gashes.
"I can do time."
Logan's body began to twist and grow once more. His clothes tore as his muscles ballooned. The black fur erupted from his skin like a shadow coming to life. He ripped the human skin from his face, revealing the snout and the yellow, glowing eyes of the Werewolf.
He stood up, seven feet of obsidian muscle and adamantium death. He looked at the Hulk and let out a roar that made the Einherjar inside the bedchamber weep.
Placing his claws against one of the remaining pillars still standing and dragging his claws across it making sparks. Before clenching his fist tightly and letting out his adamantium claws.
[Image here]
"Round three, big guy," the wolf rumbled, his voice a vibration of pure slaughter. "And this time... I'm taking the whole damn arm!."