"Flying vehicle?" Erik paused.
"Lord Frieza, the Nova Corps hangar has the most advanced single-person fighters..."
Frieza interrupted him with a look of disgust, "That trash is too ugly, and it's uncomfortable to sit in."
"What I want is a custom model. Understand?"
As Frieza spoke, he used purple energy to sketch a rough shape in the air. It was a round cockpit, slightly pointed at the bottom and open at the top, like a sliced eggshell.
"As for the specific requirements..."
Frieza rubbed his chin and laid out the demands, "First, it must be small, only big enough for me."
"Second, it must be comfortable. It needs to be lined with the softest velvet, like sitting on a cloud."
"Then, it must be able to hover. The speed doesn't need to be too fast, but it must be stable. Not a single drop of wine can spill, even if I'm drinking it inside."
"Most importantly..."
Frieza pointed to the side of the design sketch. "Here, here, and here, all must use the hardest alloys, or Vibranium. In short, it must look very textured."
"And it must be painted in a color scheme alternating between yellow and white."
"This is called—the Emperor Model Small Hover Pod."
Erik watched the "egg"-like design sketch, and the corner of his lips twitched uncontrollably.
This... is this the aesthetic sense of the emperor of the universe?
Ignoring those sleek supersonic fighters, he insists on riding an egg?
Will this really be intimidating when flying? Will he not be mistaken for a giant baby?
But looking at Frieza's gradually narrowed crimson eyes, Erik shuddered and immediately swallowed all his complaints.
"What? Is there a problem?" Frieza's voice turned cold.
"N-no! No problem!"
Erik suddenly looked up, his eyes blazing with the resolute light of "even if I build a toilet, I will make it a work of art."
"Lord Frieza's aesthetic sense is simply ten thousand years ahead of the current Universe. This return-to-simplicity design philosophy is the pinnacle of industrial design."
"I will get to it right away. Using Xandar's top-tier alloy, I guarantee that within one day, I will build you the most comfortable and most distinguished Hover Pod in the entire Universe."
"Mm, go." Frieza waved his hand.
"Remember, make the cushion soft. My waist is very precious."
Meanwhile.
Tens of thousands of light-years from Xandar.
Asgard.
The resplendent Royal Palace of Valaskjalf lay shrouded in a haze that refused to lift.
No more laughter, no more warriors toasting in boisterous revelry. Only a deathly stillness and crushing silence remained.
Upon the high throne, Odin's single eye pierced the endless void.
It was fixed upon Midgard—now called "Planet Frieza-001."
In his sight, the once chaotic, fractured Earth, rife with ideological strife, now displayed an eerie harmony.
No war, no crime, not even a beggar on the streets.
Every human moved like a precise cog in the vast machine named "Frieza Group," each step predetermined.
Four hours of labor a day. The rest, forced pleasure.
And it looked… better run than any human government before?
"Hah…"
Odin let out a cold, aged laugh.
"So this is your so-called peace?"
"No free will, no spirit of defiance—fear itself numbed by pitiful handouts."
"Where is the evolution of civilization here?"
Odin's fingers tightened round Gungnir's shaft. "This is nothing but a livestock pen."
In the past, he might have scoffed at mortal folly. Now, only searing pain remained as this order was cemented with his son, Thor's blood.
The heir to whom he'd planned to bequeath the throne, the brash yet righteous God of Thunder.
Crushed like an ant—his skull shattered.
His body still lies in that rubble, unclaimed.
"Frieza…"
Odin hissed the name, his lone eye blazing with wrath that could burn the Nine Realms.
"Heimdall." Odin called, voice low.
"My king."
The gatekeeper's golden eyes brimmed with grief as he knelt, voice heavy.
"Where is that demon now?"
"Your Majesty."
Heimdall's hand trembled on the Guardian's sword.
"He… has just conquered Xandar."
"The Nova Corps annihilated, Nova Prime… forced to kneel, even…"
Words failed him.
Such humiliation chilled even a mere witness.
"Xandar is renamed 'Planet Frieza-002.' He gathers resources, forging a fleet."
"His next target…"
Heimdall lifted his gaze, anxiety thick. "Though he hasn't spoken it, with that all-devouring greed…"
"It will likely be Asgard itself."
BOOM!
Terrifying divine power burst from Odin and the palace shook.
Odin rose, his aged frame suddenly blazing with long-lost majesty.
"Kill my son, steal my Midgard, now reach for Asgard?"
"Think I am too old to lift my spear?"
He knew that Frieza's might surpassed conventional gods—power to crush Planets on a whim.
Asgard's present armies would provide only a jest for that monster. Even Gungnir might not pierce the fiend's hide—not when Stormbreaker, forged from a neutron-star core, was snapped between two fingers.
"I need greater strength." Odin's gaze turned resolute.
"Ordinary weapons are useless. To slay that beast, I must unleash Asgard's final ace."
With that, he strode to the rear hall. There sat Queen Frigga before a loom.
Yet she wove nothing.
The usually poised Queen clutched a red cloak—Thor's childhood garb—knuckles white.
Tears had long since marred her delicate face.
"Odin…"
Seeing her husband, she quickly wiped her eyes, forcing a brittle smile.
"You came."
Odin's heart twisted at her swollen eyes. He stepped close, gently resting a hand on her shoulder.
"Weep no more, Frigga."
His voice, for once, was tender. "Thor… died a true warrior. He fell in charge, defending Midgard. His soul feasts in Valhalla with our forebears."
"But… he was so young." Frigga broke, sobbing against his chest.
"He never took the throne, never wed or sired a child."
"That demon... how could he?!"
"He didn't even leave Thor a whole body."
Odin's killing intent nearly solidified as he soothed her. He patted her back until her cries ebbed.
"Listen, Frigga."
He clasped her shoulders, his lone eye alight with unwavering resolve.
"I must leave Asgard for a time."
"Where?" Alarm flashed across her face.
"To Nidavellir." His voice dropped.
"I seek the Dwarf King Eitri."
"Destroyer is mighty, yet insufficient before that monster. I shall have Eitri reforge it with the essence of Uru, pouring my full Odinforce within and—"
He paused, tone turning glacial.
"I will forge a weapon."
"A spear sharper than Gungnir, more savage than Stormbreaker—an ultimate divine arm."
"A god-slaying lance born to butcher that emperor of the universe."
Frigga met his gaze and knew no force could sway him now.
This was vengeance and survival of the Nine Realms.
Frieza's hunger was too vast, Earth and Xandar would not sate it. If they waited till his fleet was built and armadas arrived, Asgard would fall.
Frigga drew a steadying breat. She dried her tears, eyes hardening once more.
She gently straightened the battered collar of Odin's war-cape.
"Go, my king."
She spoke softly, "Leave the realm to me."
"I'll raise the shield-wards, rally the Valkyrie Remnants and Golden Guard. Before you return, Asgard shall not fall."
Odin gave a firm nod.
No further words of parting were needed.
He turned and strode from the hall.
"Heimdall!"
"Open the Bifrost!"
"Target—Nidavellir!"
BOOM!!!
A blazing prismatic beam lanced across the stars. It carried an old father's vengeance, the All-Father's final majesty.
Straight toward the ringed dwarf-realm of forges and molten steel.