-Broadcast-
[The massive engines of The Statesman spewed out enormous plumes of tail flames, the propulsion systems roaring to full power as the ship began to accelerate and desperately try to leave the doomed realm behind.]
Upon seeing the ship attempting to escape with her subjects, Hela immediately raised her hand toward the sea below. She extended a massive stone pillar upward from the churning waters, the rock formation growing at impossible speed. It pierced through the bottom of The Statesman's hull with a sickening crunch of metal, the spike grabbing hold of the spaceship like a giant hand and preventing it from leaving.
Meanwhile, Loki rushed all the way through the palace corridors to the underground treasury, his footsteps echoing in the ancient halls. He picked up Surtur's crown carefully, feeling the latent power within it. As he turned to leave, he stopped involuntarily when he passed by the Tesseract, the glowing blue cube sitting on its pedestal. His eyes lingered on it, remembering all the chaos it had caused, all the power it contained. For a moment, temptation flickered across his face.
Back at The Statesman, a large number of undead soldiers began crawling up from the sea like a swarm of insects. These were the ones that had been shot down into the water earlier during the battle—death meant nothing to them. They crawled along Hela's stone pillars toward The Statesman with single-minded purpose, their ancient armor dripping with seawater.
[Watching the incoming wave of undead soldiers climbing toward them, the people of Asgard retreated in panic, parents pulling children back, everyone pressing toward the interior of the ship. One surviving Asgardian soldier, brave but desperate, tried to resist the invasion. But without a proper weapon in his hands, he was no match for the undead warriors. He was quickly hacked to the ground by the undead soldiers who climbed up over the railing, their rusty blades cutting into his armor.]
Just as the Asgardian soldier was about to die tragically at the hands of the undead, about to have his throat cut, a burst of rapid gunfire suddenly rang out across the deck. The sound was deafening, modern, and completely unexpected. The bullets sent the undead soldier stumbling backward, his ancient body unable to withstand the high-velocity rounds.
[Even the stone pillars that had pierced the hull were shattered by the dense, concentrated barrage of bullets, chunks of rock exploding and falling away as the sustained fire weakened the structure.]
[Skurge emerged from the shadows with his two M16 automatic rifles held at his hips, firing in sweeping arcs. He systematically shot down all the undead soldiers that had climbed up onto the deck, his face set in grim determination.]
He then shook his shoulders, causing his black concealing robe to fall off dramatically and pool at his feet. He continued to dual-wield his M16s—his "Des" and "Troy," as he'd called them—firing relentlessly at the undead soldiers who kept coming.
[He smiled with something like peace on his face and murmured to himself, barely audible over the gunfire: "For Asgard!"]
[Then he resolutely jumped off the spaceship, leaping down onto the stone pillar below to take the fight directly to the enemy and draw them away from the refugees.]
[Thanks to his courageous efforts and sacrifice, the stone pillar that had pierced and held the spaceship finally broke apart completely under the sustained damage. The Statesman shuddered, and the ship was finally able to pull free and begin its escape once more.]
[Skurge stood on a hill formed by the bodies of fallen undead soldiers, his boots finding purchase on their remains. He kept firing methodically, destroying all the nearby undead soldiers who tried to climb past him toward the ship. His rifles blazed continuously, the muzzle flashes lighting up his face.]
[Then, watching The Statesman slowly take off, rising higher into the air, seeing the grateful eyes of the people on board looking down at him—people he had terrorized, people he had betrayed, now saved by his final act—Skurge felt that it was all worth it! Every moment of shame, every compromise, all of it was redeemed in this instant!]
[Hela, who had been walking menacingly toward Thor and Valkyrie, suddenly turned around when she heard the sustained gunfire. She saw Skurge standing tall on his hill of corpses, holding his two guns, continuously eliminating the undead soldiers who were rushing toward him in waves.]
[But soon, inevitably, the bullets in both guns were completely used up. The slides locked back with hollow clicks. He threw away the empty weapons without hesitation, then immediately headbutted an approaching undead soldier with brutal force, and began smashing others with the rifle stocks as improvised clubs.]
[Hela looked at Skurge, the man who had betrayed her after serving her so loyally, and her lips curled downward into a deep frown of disgust and fury. Then her expression turned absolutely fierce with rage. She raised her hand and shot a Night Sky Sword at him with lethal intent.]
[The Night Sky Sword flew through the air with lightning speed and pierced Skurge's chest cleanly, punching through his armor and body. The impact lifted him slightly off his feet before he collapsed. He died instantly, but his face held an expression of peace.]
[But his desperate efforts and ultimate sacrifice were not in vain. The Statesman successfully took off, its engines roaring, and flew up into the sky, carrying thousands of Asgardian refugees to safety.]
-Broadcast-
"Whoa! This guy is a man! A true warrior!" Tony said, his opinion of Skurge completely transformed. "Even though he was a fence-sitter and an opportunist, he didn't tarnish the reputation of Asgard in the end! He died like an Asgardian!"
Wanda sighed softly, her expression sad but also touched. "Just like he said to Hela before, he just wanted to prove himself! To matter, to be remembered as something more than a coward!"
Natasha nodded thoughtfully and said, "He completed his self-redemption. He died saving the people he'd helped oppress. That takes real courage."
Rhodes looked impressed despite himself and grumbled, "You know, he called those two guns 'Des' and 'Troy'—Destroy. And they really were! They actually killed so many undead soldiers! Not bad for Earth weapons!"
Thor shook his head, providing context. "Those undead soldiers are unkillable in the traditional sense! They possess a form of immortality granted by Hela's power! But this also makes their reanimated bodies extremely fragile, almost brittle. So even ordinary firearms can blow them apart, shatter their bones. They can't heal like she can."
In the Asgardian dungeon where the viewing was taking place, Skurge stood frozen, staring blankly at the sky where the screen showed his own death. He suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to cry, emotions he'd suppressed for years welling up uncontrollably. He'd seen his own redemption, his own heroic death.
Loki stood aside nearby and watched him with great interest, a slight smile playing at his lips. He didn't mock the executioner—for once, the God of Mischief remained respectfully silent.
-Broadcast-
[In the underground treasury, Loki held Surtur's massive crown carefully in both hands. He approached the Eternal Flame, which burned in its mystical brazier, and placed the crown directly into the supernatural fire.]
[Loki spoke the ritual words clearly: "With the Eternal Flame, you are reborn at this moment!"]
[A few seconds after coming into contact with the Eternal Flame, the crown began to vibrate violently, humming with building power. The Eternal Flame surged upward dramatically, growing from a controlled burn into a massive conflagration. Surtur was being resurrected!]
[At this time on the Rainbow Bridge, Valkyrie was struggling to crawl forward on the ground, her body battered and bruised. Hela's power was beyond anything they had imagined, beyond what they'd prepared for.]
[With an extremely confident, predatory smile on her face, Hela slowly walked toward the injured Valkyrie, in no hurry to finish her off. She was savoring her victory.]
["Hela! Enough!" Thor climbed painfully to his feet, the Night Sky Sword still embedded in his chest, and yelled at her with desperate defiance.]
Hela stopped and turned to look at him, curious and amused. She wondered what Thor would possibly say when he was about to die, what final words he could offer.
"You want Asgard! It's yours!" Thor declared, spreading his arms in surrender.
Hela looked at him with pure disdain, not buying it for a second. "No matter how cleverly you try to trick me, it's useless! You're no match for me! You never were, never will be!"
Thor put his hands on his hips despite his injury and smiled—a genuine, knowing smile that confused her. "No! I know that very well! I'm completely aware I can't beat you!" He paused for dramatic effect, then pointed behind him with his thumb toward the palace. "But he can!"
[A huge pillar of flame suddenly burst out from the palace of Asgard, rising hundreds of feet into the air. Surtur emerged from the inferno, as huge as a mountain, his massive form dwarfing the buildings around him. He held his enormous lava sword Twilight in his gigantic hand, the weapon dripping molten rock.]
["No!!!" Hela took two stumbling steps backward in shock upon seeing Surtur, genuine fear crossing her face for the first time. But in her distraction, she didn't notice Valkyrie charging toward her from behind, having recovered enough to make one final attack.]
[Valkyrie delivered a devastating flying knee strike, her momentum carrying her forward. The impact caught Hela completely off-guard and knocked her to the ground heavily. Before Hela could recover, Valkyrie drove her Dragon Tooth Sword down, and the blade pierced through Hela's body, pinning her momentarily.]
Thor seized the opportunity. He gathered all the remaining power of thunder he could muster and struck the bridge surface with a single mighty punch. A massive bolt of lightning—one of the largest he'd ever summoned—shot down from the sky in response. It struck Hela's position with apocalyptic force, the explosion shattering the mystical bridge surface beneath her. The blast sent her plummeting down into the sea far below with a distant splash.
Surtur held his great sword Twilight aloft and roared with the voice of a volcano, "Tremble before me! Asgard! I have returned to settle our ancient accounts!!"
[As he spoke, he struck the nearest building with his massive sword. The blade, wreathed in flame and magma, cleaved through the structure like it was paper. Instantly, the magnificent building became nothing but ruins, collapsing in a shower of gold and stone.]
Heimdall stood on the deck of The Statesman, watching from a safe distance as Surtur wreaked havoc in Asgard. He felt somewhat emotional, melancholy even, that things had finally come to this—that their beautiful realm had to be destroyed to save its people.
On the bridge, Valkyrie and Thor stood together side by side, watching The Statesman sail away safely through the sky. "Everyone is safe! That's what matters most!" Valkyrie said firmly, though her voice carried an undertone of grief.
Thor glanced at Surtur, who was still systematically wreaking havoc on the realm, destroying building after building. "We have finally fulfilled Ragnarok's prophecy! Just as it was foretold!"
Valkyrie shook her head sadly, looking at the destruction of the realm she'd once called home. "I hate this prophecy! I hate that this was the only way!"
As the two stood looking ahead at the destruction, Hulk suddenly climbed up onto the bridge from behind them, having finally recovered from his battle with Fenrir. He rubbed his head, looked around in confusion at the changed situation, and then saw Surtur—the massive fire giant who was as tall as a mountain. His eyes widened, and he immediately began running toward the giant with clear hostile intent.
["I hate it too! But we have absolutely no choice!" Thor called after him, not yet realizing what Hulk was about to do. "Surtur must destroy Asgard! He must destroy Hela! Only then can our people truly survive! We have to let Surtur complete this task! Otherwise... No!!!"]
Before Thor could finish his desperate words, he saw Hulk roar with primal fury and leap toward Surtur with a tremendous jump, sailing through the air toward the fire giant's head. The smile on Thor's face instantly disappeared without a trace, replaced by horror.
[Hulk clasped both his massive fists together and slammed them into Surtur's forehead right between the eyebrows with tremendous force. The impact was so powerful it caused the giant to stagger backward, nearly losing his balance.]
"Hulk! Stop it! You idiot!!!" Thor screamed in desperation, waving his arms. "We need him! Don't fight him!"
Hulk ignored Thor completely. He clung to Surtur's crown—the source of the fire giant's power—and repeatedly punched it with all his strength. Each devastating punch created a small dent in the mystical metal, weakening it bit by bit.
Surtur roared in anger and pain. He reached up and grabbed Hulk like one might grab an annoying insect, his enormous fingers wrapping around the green figure. Then he flung Hulk away with tremendous force, sending him flying across the realm like a green missile.
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