"You will pay for your actions—with blood."
A voice, hoarse with fury, rang out across the frozen wasteland. Laufey raised a single hand, and from his treasury, the colossal mountain cleaver forged by the frost giants flew straight into his grasp.
Along with the axe came a flowing cloak—one that granted Laufey the ability to soar through the air.
"No one can save you—not even Thanos. Mark my words."
The sheer force of the mountains themselves gathered upon Laufey's massive battle axe. As he leaped from the ground, ready to bring his weapon down in a devastating strike, a hammer suddenly descended from the sky, shattering the energy coalescing around the axe with a thunderous impact.
"Hela Odinsdottir!"
Suspended in midair by the power of his cloak, Laufey bellowed in rage, his eyes locking onto the figure wielding Mjolnir. Lothar's gaze followed suit.
"Don't get me wrong. Frankly, I'd love to see you dead. But one thing's for sure—I have no intention of dying alongside a pompous fool like you on Jotunheim."
Noticing Lothar's stare, Hela spun Mjolnir in her grip. The hammer, still imbued with Odin's power, clashed once more against Laufey's battle axe, unleashing an ear-piercing roar that echoed through the halls of Jotunheim's royal court. The raw strength of Mjolnir flickered in Lothar's eyes, stirring a moment of surprise.
If she had this power, why didn't she use it before?
"I am the Goddess of Death, not the Goddess of Hammers," Hela remarked, as if reading Lothar's thoughts. With a solemn expression, she controlled Mjolnir effortlessly in one hand.
A hammer was merely a tool—a crutch. Relying too much on external weapons would only hinder her ability to fully grasp and develop her divine strength. She had realized this long ago.
It was precisely because of this realization that Mjolnir had become nothing more than a convenient plaything in her eyes, one she rarely used in serious combat.
Yet, the battle against Lothar on the Bloodstained Plains had forced her to break her year-long vow of abstaining from Mjolnir. And now, to prevent Laufey from picking them off one by one, she had once again chosen to wield the hammer, still infused with Odin's might.
"There's actually a 'Goddess of Hammers' title?" Lothar quipped as he stood back-to-back with Hela, his energy blasts piercing through dozens of royal guards with precision. The smirk playing at his lips made Hela's expression turn ice-cold.
"Shut that insolent mouth of yours."
Her murderous glare was accompanied by the weight of Mjolnir crashing down. Having walked the thin line between life and death, Hela had gained newfound strength—enough to unlock the Odinforce within Mjolnir.
In an instant, the grand palace was reduced to ruins.
"Hela Odinsdottir… son of Thanos!"
A voice, deep and resonant like the abyss itself, reached Lothar's ears. He scoffed, shaking off the dust from his hands as he surveyed the crumbling ice palace and the bodies strewn across the battlefield. His gaze brimmed with unshaken arrogance.
"My name is Lothar."
Boom!
Laufey's towering figure burst forth from the wreckage, his attack coming fast and unrelenting. Lothar, his muscles taut and veins bulging, met the charge head-on. Their fists collided with earth-shattering force, sending shockwaves rippling through the air.
Pure, raw power clashed between them, forcing Lothar's feet to skid backward against the icy ground.
"Give you a few more years, and who knows who would win? But for now, the victor is me!"
The pride of a king forbade Laufey from retreating. Instead, he acknowledged Lothar's potential with a rare sense of admiration.
Truth be told, he envied Odin and Thanos alike.
Both Hela and Lothar—young as they were—were already forces to be reckoned with. If nothing unexpected happened, they were destined to become the rulers of Asgard and the Black Quadrant.
And Laufey? He had no heirs to speak of.
Perhaps it was time he considered leaving behind an heir to continue the royal bloodline. If his child surpassed him in talent, then one day, the Frost Giants might truly have a chance at conquering the Nine Realms—or even the universe itself.
Even as these thoughts swirled in his mind, Laufey increased the force of his strikes. With the bitter cold of Jotunheim amplifying his frost magic, the very air around Lothar began to freeze, his body trembling involuntarily from the sheer cold.
This was absolute, unrelenting frost.
"It's over."
At last, Laufey retrieved the Casket of Ancient Winters from the ruins of his palace. The dazzling, almost hypnotic glow of the artifact ignited under his control, its chilling power extending outward in a relentless tide.
Within the frozen throne room of Jotunheim, Laufey wielded the casket's power, making himself nearly invincible. This was one of the reasons Odin had always struggled to completely conquer Jotunheim.
Two lifelike ice sculptures now stood before Laufey—Lothar, son of Thanos, and Hela, daughter of Odin.
Summoning the mountain cleaver once more, Laufey prepared to bring it down upon Lothar's frozen form.
Crack!
Just before the axe reached Lothar's chest, a jagged fracture appeared on the icy surface. The sound was deafening to Laufey's ears.
"What?!"
Before the words had even left his mouth, the ice encasing Lothar shattered into countless shards, a burst of energy surging skyward.
"The Casket of Ancient Winters… belongs to me."
In a blur of motion, Lothar erupted from his prison. A split second later, he was behind Laufey.
A powerful roundhouse kick sliced through the air, connecting with Laufey's side with bone-crushing force.
Staggering from the impact, Laufey barely had time to react before realizing something—his hand was empty.
"Prince Lothar! I've got it!"
A blue-furred robotic cat held the casket high above his head, his wide, cheerful eyes forming crescent moons as he beamed with pride.
"Getting you to take it out voluntarily was a challenge," Lothar admitted. Signaling Woz to retreat, he flexed his wrist, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction.
The treasury hadn't contained the casket, meaning there was only one logical conclusion—it had been with Laufey all along.
"I'll admit, you surprised me. Both in mind and strength. But this is where it ends."
"Thanos will mourn your death," Laufey growled, stepping forward, battle axe gripped tightly. If he had been holding back before, that restraint was now gone—he was ready to kill.
A blizzard of frost and wind began to blind Lothar's vision. With snow swirling in every direction, he closed his eyes, relying solely on instinct.
Mind follows intent, body follows mind. This was what Thanos had taught him—the art of battle in extreme conditions. Lothar wasn't yet fully accustomed to this state, but with his sight rendered useless, he had no other choice.
The ground trembled. The sky roared. Lothar felt as if he were facing not just Laufey—but all of Jotunheim itself.
"Thanos will shed tears for you, Lothar."
"My father does not weep for me. He will only be proud."
As Laufey closed in, an armada of warships ascended behind Lothar, their weapons locking onto the giant.
"Prince Lothar, all preparations are complete."
Woz, the blue robotic cat, produced a mechanical device, raising it skyward.
"Disappear."
Lothar raised his right hand and snapped his fingers. Instantly, the deafening roar of artillery fire thundered across the royal court of Jotunheim!
The earth groaned under the relentless barrage. Finally breaking free from her icy confinement, Hela hastily conjured a shield before her, blocking the oncoming assault. She gritted her teeth as she glared at the figure in the distance who had just snapped his fingers, cursing inwardly.
The sky above Jotunheim blazed crimson from the cascading firelight. Unfazed, Laufey emerged from the inferno, his expression unreadable. A bombardment of this magnitude was barely a nuisance to him.
"Prince Lothar!"
A beam of silver-white energy shot forth under Woz's control. Before Laufey and Hela's astonished eyes, the light coalesced in the skies over Jotunheim—forming the spectral image of a full moon.
"ROOOOAAARR!!!"
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