Chapter 211 - Chapter 50: Shadows' Twilight part 3

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In E's case, his rounds drilled in but did not explode. Instead, the bullets disintegrated, turning into small clouds of nanites which quickly spread from the entry wound to the rest of the targets' bodies. This was both a disgusting and very agonizing way to die, but E needed the resources to keep using a solid-state projectile-type weapon.

At the forefront of the group racing to confront the charging jotun, Husk saw what had happened to E's targets and had to fight hard to keep from throwing up. "Oh Lord Jesus! That's disgusting! E, you utter bastard, I know these guys are enemies, but by good lord, man, haven't you ever heard ah mercy?!"

"I…" E trailed off as the jotun he'd hit let out wailing cries of raw agony before they just… fell apart. The dust-like swarm of nanites that rose up from the remains flowed up toward him. "I… you might be correct in that Miss Guthrie. I… I don't think I will ever use such weapons again. However, for right now they—"

That was as far as E was able to get before Surtur made his presence known once more. This time, the Jotun King used a blast of raw power from his purloined spear as his herald. The attack flashed forward from well out of range of even Harry's magical sphere of influence. The long range attack was relatively thin, about three fingers in width, and a violent scintillating color, something like the gleam of light off a pearl. It was almost pretty to look at despite the lethal potential it contained.

With Harry out of position dealing with another band of overly large jotun, the beam smashed into E without any trouble. Even after being proven to be tougher than Tony's Iron Man armor, E's body could not stand up to an attack based off of pure magic. The beam carved into E, punching a hole straight into his chest and out his back, also burning through an unfortunate Heavy Gunner that had been passing behind him on a magic carpet like a plasma torch to butter.

"Dammit!" Cyclops cursed loudly, beginning to bark orders as Harry, catching on to Surtur's game, raced ahead to block another magical blast. "Everyone spread out, don't let whoever just did that get the range again! E, are you all right?"

"I feel that describing my current status all right would be a gross misuse of the term, nor can I truly believe that such a question left your mouth Cyclops," E grumbled, even as what remained of his chest began to explode into nanites, quickly repairing the damage. "There. Now, I am all right. I will need to head down with the close range attackers now, I no longer have enough raw material to build further -rockets."

"Do it," Cyclops nodded, Harry again dealing with a third similar magical beam of pure power.

"SciathnaBhFéadfadh!" Harry bellowed. At his words, a huge ball of magic erupted from his outstretched hands, blazing into a wall of energy. The newly built defense quickly blocked the next two strikes from whoever was out there. The shield was supposed to be able to block any kind of magical assault but to Harry's astonishment his barrier shattered after tanking the second blow alone. I didn't put in enough power?! That has got to be Gungnir then.

Thankfully, Harry's magical shield had held for long enough that all of his flying forces had moved as far apart as they could. Nor had they stopped their suppressive fire, allowing the land-based attackers to push on.

Balder and Tyr were the first to move, jumping off of the magic carpet carrying them. The duo followed by Hela, Colossus, and Husk, both in their metal forms. Landing first, the Asgardians' blades flashed as they carved towards two of the jotun guarding the leftmost tower, cutting down several others while parrying punches and spear thrusts at the same time. With the ferocity of their attack, the remaining jotun on the tower's battlements shifted their attention entirely away from the flying carpets to focus on them.

"Methinks we are fighting but the dregs of Surtur's army," Balder mused, as he ducked under an attempted stab from one jotun that appeared to him as if almost as slow as if it were passing through molasses. "Those individuals who were left behind as liabilities. Certainly their combat prowess is nowhere near as high as I expected after our previous clashes."

"Aye, perhaps, but do not let yourself become complacent! You can plainly see their overgrown brethren over there. Who is to say that Surtur does not also hold back a small cadre of elite fighters " warned Tyr as he deflected several more strikes, riposting after each and slaying the defending jotun. Soon, they had gained entrance into the tower.

Following them down Hela, Husk, and Colossus crash-landed into the second manned tower, their way already cleared by an overpowered optic blast from Cyclops that had hurled jotun over the tower's edges and cracked the flooring underneath them. Hela and Colossus landed first, slaying several of the defenders in as many seconds. Colossus was now armed with a cavalry style warhammer and twirled it around himself masterfully, smashing jotun off their feet left and right. Beside him, Hela epitomized finesse and speed, her blade striking out like lightning.

By the time Husk landed and got back to her feet, the tower's rooftop was cleared and Hela had smashed the doorway leading into the tower with a spell.

Above them, the Valkyries had followed orders and spread out, shifting into small semi-squad-based groups of four. One group moved to give covering fire to the two teams on the ground. Another remained over E as he entered the fray on one of the unoccupied towers. The Valkyries there soon appeared a little sick as E's legs and arms shifted into nanites and spread out, slowly eating away at the defensive installation to rebuild the AI's stores of raw material and mass. Once refilled, both the hovering Valkyries and E took off and began to dig into the flank of an attacking force of jotun.

Along with the Heavy Gunners, who'd never stopped firing, the other two groups of winged horsewomen took the fight to the remaining over-sized jotun as well as the regular-sized jotun that were now coming out of the forests nearby. Not even five minutes after, Hela, Balder, and the others burst out of their respective towers towers, racing to engage the next group of defenders while the Valkyries and the rest gave them cover fire.

As his forces slowly dismantled the jotun defenses, Harry blasted through an approaching giant as if he wasn't even there and began to race across the landscape. He was eager to close with Surtur, an almost manic grin on his face as he lashed out around him at incoming attacks, disrupting them and slaying jotun with frightening ease until he was past their initial defensive line entirely.

At that point, distance came into play in a major way. Now able to see more of the jotun forces, Harry saw that Surtur stood almost at the bottom of the massive hill that was at the center of Muspellheim. Moreover, this was the Jotun King's realm. While he may use Odin's spear to lash out with blasts of raw magical power that no shield other than Sciath na BhFéadfadh could defend against, he could also lob giant masses of molten earth like artillery rounds, arcing them up and over into those attacking his realm from any direction.

When Surtur realized that Harry was racing towards him, he changed his angle of attack, bypassing the Migardian wizard by focusing on the flanks of the advancing assault force. Two Valkyries died instantly to a lava blast even as those below on the ground were forced to dodge a second such attack.

But once more, the humans and their allies adapted. Under Steve's direction one out of every group of Heavy Gunners and Valkyries turned their attention to watching the skies, calling out as the lava or rock came hurtling in.

But of course, this tactic cut into how effective their covering fire could be to those still on the ground. Even as the last of the overlarge jotun that had guarded the entrance into Muspellheim went down in a hail of rocket fire, more of the regular sized jotun had closed. Hela, and those with her, were now completely bogged down.

Cyclops blasted out optic beams several times, mowing down jotun with ease. Cannonball continued to wreak havoc as well, smashing into and through the outer edges of the battlefield, unwilling to hit his comrades as well as enemies. Hela, surrounded, began to use her magic rather than her sword skill alone, pulling away from the momentary battle lust that had fogged her mind when combat had first started.

"Form a battle line! Give me some cover in close," the goddess barked as she lashed out with cutting spells in every direction. She coupled these curses with spells of such intense cold the fire jotun's skin froze in places at a bare touch, causing them to scream in agony.

And if this change of tactics to something less meatheaded was ultimately due to Emma having given her a psychic nudge well, neither woman would ever say.

Behind enemy lines, Harry also came under attack. Other large jotun, unseen until now, rose up to block his path, but those directly in his way to Surtur died instantly. More jotun turned to hurling their own lava or rock at him, trying to catch him in a crossfire, but Harry simply dodged through these clumsy attempts, shaking his head. "It's just like dodging overgrown bludgers, easiest thing in the world."

At that moment, another blast of raw magic flared out, though not towards Harry but his companions. Recognizing this and unwilling to take the chance that his friends and allies would be able to dodge in time even if they saw it coming, Harry cast another Sciath na BhFéadfadh around himself and flew upwards. The shield rang like a tocsin under the blow and Harry grimaced as the coruscating light momentarily blinded him. When the attack faded Harry instantly returned to his previous course, even as the shield around him collapsed, utterly overloaded. Huh, the closer I get, the stronger the attacks get. Slightly more logical than I'm used to magic being, but good to know all the same.

As the last flickering dots disappeared from his vision, Harry grinned like a wolf because ahead of him, he could now make out the clear figure of an overlarge jotun wearing a crown. YES! Finally, a real enemy I can actually hit!

Up to this point in the campaign, Harry had slowly become more and more frustrated. The Shadows were by their nature an enemy he could not come to grips with, being semi-psionic entities long without any physical bodies or base of operation in the natural world. Harry knew of no spells that could let him fight them on the Astral Plane like the telepaths could, but at first he'd believed that they would try to attack him anyway.

Harry had bet on them challenging him within his own mind, or barring that, expending a large amount of their magic in an attempt to match him when he attempted to free Odin. But the Shadows had adapted as well and instead opted to play a giant game of keep away as they stalled for time, time enough for his telepaths to tire out and they could really counterattack.

With a howl one part released frustration and one part righteous fury, Harry blocked another blast from Gungnir and immediately responded with his own, the bolt of unformed magical might crashing out to slam into one of the Shadows' remaining tethers. The blast struck Surtur in the side, hurling him off his feet despite his massive size.

Surtur had been preparing Gungnir for another blast—it took him precious time for Odin's mighty weapon to recharge—when his enemy's spell crashed into him. He fell to his side with a cry of agony but still managed to unleash the bolt from Gungnir even as he fell. Gritting his teeth at the pain, the Jotun King screamed out a command to his people. "To me, to me! Rally to your king!"

That last ravening beam from Gungnir carved through several of Surtur's own people before crashing into Husk's side just as she was taking her position in a makeshift battle line under Hela's direction. The Kansas-borne girl melted under the magical assault, from her foot all the way up to her shoulder her metal body began to lose cohesion as it heated passed red-hot to blinding white. Her lips pulled wide to let out a shriek like a lost soul, the cry louder than even the jotun devoured by E's nanite rounds. "ARRRGKKKAKAA!"

Like the blessing it was, the emergency runic array kicked in and instantly teleported her way back to base camp a moment later.

Cannonball saw this, saw his sister as she screamed in agony, and now he redoubled his efforts to smash through the horde, face grimset and eyes blazing. Using his powers, he pushed off the ground to gain altitude before flipping around and aiming straight towards the next group of large jotun that were attempting to attack Harry. "Oh hell no! You do not hurt my sister without getting your ass kicked in!" he snarled.

A second later, Cannonball proved to have earned his codename as he smashed into and through two of the overlarge jotun before twisting around and coming back for more. Five more of the giants died in quick succession, while the rest of the large jotun tried desperately to protect themselves from the tiny human flying into and through their lines.

Pushing his pain away and roughly getting himself to his feet, Surtur immediately cast an earth spike spell towards Harry. The dimensional traveler smashed it to one side with laughable ease, not even bothering with a magical spell, merely trusting in his Magia Erebea. He responded with a simple if overpowered Expelliarmus. The disarming spell nearly tore Gungnir from Sutrut's grasp, but with a pulse of magic pulled from being the ruler of Muspelheim, he was able to fight it off. Surtur in turn responded with a blast from both the spear and his own spells; giant fireballs that lashed out and towards Harry, homing in on him from all sides. There were hundreds of these incendiary constructs, many more even blazing into existence from the molten ground instead of merely forming in the air.

Harry, however, both dodged the blast from Gungnir and managed to detonate the fireballs prematurely, causing them to explode before they reached him. With the air momentarily clear, he zoomed around Surtur, showing the speed and agility that had won him the Seeker position when he was younger. A moment later as he zoomed through two new fireballs that crashed into one another behind him, Harry shouted out, "Fulgur Plumbum!"

From the soot-choked sky a hammer formed of pure electricity swung down and smashed onto Surtur, halting the Jotun King's offense for a moment. This was followed quickly by several extreme cold spells. Recognizing them for what they were, and knowing their danger, Surtur dodged frantically, utilizing his mastery of self-transfiguration to change the shape of his body to dodge what he could and solidify the outer layer of his skin so that the ambient cold couldn't do as much damage.

Even as he tried to mold his body into a configuration as defended against cold as possible, Surtur opened his mouth to spit out more fireballs at Harry. Once more they seemed to automatically home in on the flying wizard. "Blast you, stand still!"

Harry didn't reply verbally, instead lashing out with another spell, a battering ram of ice-cold water. He followed this us with another Fulgur Plumbum. Surtur screamed as the water slammed into him, but his previous self-modification protected him enough that he was able to stumble to the side, avoiding the follow up strike. Stumbling, he managed to send out still more stones spikes up at Harry, earthen fangs reaching up to drag him fatally to the ground. Adding to that, the Jotun King again sent out more fireballs from his mouth.

For a second it looked like this would finally be too much for Harry to dodge, but as the multitude of magical attacks converged, Harry only covered himself with a shield. Surtur, seeing this, took the opportunity of Harry losing sight of the battlefield and quickly lashed out with Gungnir. The strike hit true, but the same shield Harry had cast only moments ago held firm, the combined assault only blinding him for a moment.

Surtur was no one's fool, despite his berserk fury at times, and knew that the human wizard was rapidly proving a threat to his life and retreated quickly, falling back towards his castle. While he did so, Surtur concentrated on his control of the land to good effect, launching further artillery-style magical attacks from every direction to cover his escape.

At the same time, the nearest of his folk finally arrived. Giant jotun, fed and prepared for destruction, who had not yet run afoul of the human able to barrel through his people or the humans firing down on them with some kind of explosive weaponry moved in now from the flanks of this assault into their realm. Their roars thundered through the air and their steps shook the continent as they marched forward as one.

It was for naught. His vision clearing of smoke and ash, Harry slew any of the incoming jotun in his way to an individual so quickly not a one was able to launch more than a pittance of an attack. For all their size, the fire jotun giants lacked Surtur's greater magical resistance and armor, and so to the human wizard they were simply so many targets.

Back near the bridge, the rest of the ground forces were also making good headway despite Surtur's artillery-like magical strikes. They had broken the first defensive line and moved back onto their carpets for a time, racing on to engage the next group of defenders before it could pull back. Meanwhile, the Heavy Gunners and Valkyries had spread out further racing ahead of Hela and the others to help Cannonball smash the spread out clumps of jotun that Harry had left behind him.

By this point, Magma had joined the rest of the attackers out in the open, racing behind the frontline combatants, hurling her bolts of tectonic energy to some effect. At first, she'd helped to wipe out a small band of jotun that had been hiding in one of the supposedly unoccupied towers before with Steve and E's help but now that the main threat came from the ongoing long range magical bombardment Surtur was launching at them, she halted in place.

Another Heavy Gunner had died from one such boulder, and another had knocked Tyr clean off his feet a moment before and even now more were coming in, scattering the Valkyrie and hitting Hela, causing the normally cool-headed to curse like a sailor who just missed leave. It was only a matter of time before they started to lose more people, as Harry couldn't protect them from every direction. But Magma could do something about it.

"Round two, Surtur…" With that, the Neo-Grecian knelt down and sent her mind down into the earth of Muspellheim. Her body had long since changed into its tectonic energy form as she'd worked to stop the jotun from launching further long range attacks. These were proving to be the deadliest type of assault in the defenders' arsenal.

At that moment, despite the efficacy of his control of the land turning out to be his most effective defense, Surtur was still desperately retreating, having no desire to let the human seidr user any closer than he had to. I need to put more distance between us. Damn it, where are my lords when I need them the most!? Wait, what is… She dares?! Once again, Surtur felt a presence appear to contest control of the tectonic energies that lied beneath the surface. Only this time, the invader was attempting their coup in Surtur's own realm!

Just feeling that touch infuriated Surtur. "Foolish human bitch! Blood, bone, and sinew, this land, from one edge to another, is mine! You will never control even a speck of dirt so long as I draw breath!" Halting his retreat to his castle, Surtur concentrated his mind down into the ground to do battle with his distant foe.

Unfortunately for Harry and the assault team, the Shadows chose that moment to join the battle. Harry suddenly found himself surround by illusions just as a number of the massive jotun were teleported into his way. More illusions were also sent at the rest of the attacking force. This sudden interruption forced Harry to pause his hunt to cast the same area of effect spell he had come up with when racing towards Asgard. "Vide modo verum (see only the truth)!" The spell, once more molded into a standing enchantment, tugged massively on his reserves, but the cost was worth it as it swiftly covered the whole battlefield from Harry on back to his fellows.

Even worse for the Earth force, however, was that this momentary lapse in Harry's concentration on Surtur nearly proved fatal for Magma. Unlike the last time they'd squared off, where neither of the combatants had been familiar with the world they were fighting on, Surtur understood everything there was to know about Muspellheim down to almost the molecular level. Magma's home field advantage, her mutant ability to meld with tectonic forces, failed her within seconds and Surtur was even able to turn her connection to his realm's tectonic energies against her.

An instant later, Magma's energy form began to tear itself apart, conflicting forces pulling this way and that so violently she was almost akin to a human-shaped volcano. "AAAAAHHHHHH!" Magma shrieked, her powers turning against her. She but for the quick thinking of Tyr and Harry.

Hearing Amara's screaming and seeing her energy form flaring erratically , Harry knew instinctively that it was somehow Surtur who was causing this horror. Using a hasty, short-ranged apparition, Harry appeared straight in Surtur's face. There, he lashed out with the quickest chilling spell he knew, not wanting to take even a second longer to create a larger, more powerful version. Instead, he simply brute-forced this assault as much as he could. "Glacius!"

What came from Harry's frantically outstretched hands was the pure concentrated essence of Cold, making all of the previous cold spells he had thus far used seemingly tepid in comparison. Despite the Jotun King's earlier attempts to make his outer shell too thick for such attacks to harm him, the sheer power of this assault still managed to utterly freeze that outer shell along with large portions of his internal bloodstream. Surtur screamed in similar agony as he'd caused his tectonic energy-wielding foe, his fists flailing out desperately. All around the two, the ground heaved , but Harry smashed any and all earthen constructs aside with Reductos.

Meanwhile, through the vagaries of the battlefield, Tyr had become the closest allied combatant to Magma when she'd knelt to the ground outside the tower Husk, Colossus, and Hela had previously cleared. Seeing her horrifying distress, the Asgardian warrior bodily charged into her. Pulling her off of her feet, Tyr ignored the sizzling of her tectonic energy form burning into his armor and tunic to the point that the chain mail started turning red. He looked around wildly for what to do, who to speak to before remembering himself and turning to shout up to Steve, "Get down here man! We must remove this one from all contact with the ground!"

Holding his spasming ally like he was, the God of Justice had left himself vulnerable, and many of the nearby regular-sized jotun took this opportunity, hurling their spears towards him and the woman in his arms. Snarling, Hela quickly whipped around and cast a spell that shattered weapons created a dome of magical energy around the two. The protective shield only dissipated Steve lower his magic carpet enough so that he could reach down and pulling the now comatose form of Magma onto it. She didn't seem physically wounded any longer and reverted to her normal body, but she was completely unresponsive, her eyes rolled up in her head, her body shaking and shivering as if she had just been electrocuted.

Having heard his beloved's cry, Colossus could only see red and tore apart the two jotun attacking him, using the dismembered leg of one to brain the other before he turned to race back towards Amara. When he saw that she was safe for the moment, the former Russian farm boy gave Steve a solemn nod and turned back to the fight. Grabbing up two weapons dropped by fallen jotun he hurled himself forward once more, cutting down the last of the jotun still standing. He then barked orders, his usual self-effacment burned away by his wrath. "Get the magic carpets down here now! We will close with the next batch before they can ready themselves!"

As his assault force moved to engage again, Harry's magical assault had continued unabated, smashing aside Surtur's own magical attacks even as the Jotun King reached his castle's walls. There, as a few defenders on the castle's walls started to engage him, Harry launched his next overpowered assault. "Fragor unda fortitudine!"

The siege-breaker spell smashed into Surtur and his castle at the same time. The king of Muspellheim roared in agony as the black metal armor he wore exploded off his body, his boiling molten blood dripping down its rent remains as well as his face and side.

The castle behind him suffered similarly. The majority of the wall facing Harry fell away along with much of the mountain face along with it. This tore free two of the walls of the room where Malekith had been holed up, watching the runic array he had created to leech off Odin do its work.

For a moment, Harry's onslaught on Surtur faltered a flash of white among the red and black of the scenery catching his attention. Seeing Odin laid out there in nothing but his underthings sprawled onto his side, Harry stared.

Even from afar, Harry could tell Odin had been somehow drained to the point of emaciation. He looked nothing like a god or king, his muscle gone, skin shriveled around his bones, and his beard grown to the point it was longer than he was tall. Honestly it looked as if the King of Asgard had aged thousands of years. And surrounding the Asgardian Skyfather was a runic array, thrumming with blood red and dark umber energies. Some kind of draining array?

But that was all the attention Harry could spare as Surtur lashed out at him from the rubble of his castle's outer wall. A fire spell and a ground spike shot towards Harry while the ground around Colossus and the others rose up to attack them, following up with a dozen more fireballs that homed in on Harry, bracketing the wizard as he hovered in midair. While Harry dealt with those or dodged as best he could, Surtur waited before lashing out with his purloined spear towards the incoming magic carpets.

Once more Gungnir roared in the Jotun King's hand, sending out another blast of energy that, though still condensed, was now as wide in diameter as Harry was tall. Yet still Harry was able to react in time and throw up another Sciath na BhFéadfadh to absorb the energy before returning fire. Crikey, wasn't more than a year ago using that spell more than once would've seemed both impossible and overkill. Yet here I am, now throwing it around like a party favor.

By this point, Harry had taken the measure of Surtur, and found his magical attacks wanting. He doesn't have enough magical power to harm me. Not to mention he sorely lacks any sort of versatility too. So instead of bothering to defend himself from the next group of fireballs, Harry let them hit him, tanking their explosions while concentrating on his own spellchain.

Although Surtur dodged or blocked most of what Harry sent at him thanks to his control over the ground allowing him to create walls to take the attacks, an overpowered Sectumsempra still managed to slip through and carve into Surtur's shoulder and side. The next spell in the chain froze the Jotun King's new wound, causing Surtur even more agony.

Meanwhile, now protected from Surtur's attacks by Harry's shield spell, the Heavy Gunners were able to begin raining fire down on the defenders of Surtur's castle. At the same time, the remaining Valkyrie fired at the jotun from above. They had lost four of their sisters so far, but still their arrows flicked out like asp's tongues to stab into heads and bodies alike along with Cyclops' eye beams. Behind them the groups could still hear the furious cursing in Russian from Colossus as he took bloody vengeance on any fire jotun in front of him for the horrible injuries his girlfriend had suffered at the hands of Surtur leading the other close range combatants into battle.

"E, Cyclops, cover Colossus and the others. They're still attracting most of the attention to them and need the help. Heavy Gunners, you too," Steve ordered, while still more jotun, now consistently smaller and no longer armed boiled out of several nearby buildings set into the bottom of the mountain. Yet for all of their lack of size or weapons, none of them hesitated in attacking the invaders.

The King of Muspellheim frantically dodged away, again transforming his body so the cone of Harry's next spell would miss his chest. At the same time, Malekith, whose presence had now been registered by all of the assault force, joined the fray. Spells shot out from him as he simultaneously tried to disappear into the darkness of the rubble all around him.

"Drill of Light! Lumos Proxima!" Harry shouted in quick succession. Hundreds of cutting, lightning and light-based drills of magic blossomed into existence and immediately shot out toward Surtur, who desperately used his mastery over the land once more to creating a series of walls to absorb the various drills. At the same time, he was forced to transfigure himself into various shapes and sizes to dodge any of the spells he could.

Meanwhile, the light-based spell erupted into existence over Malekith's position. This relatively smaller but far brighter miniature sun burnt away the dark elf's cover even as Harry concentrated his magical power into his fist, not through the Magia Erebea, but for another spell. Once it was charged, he thrust it out towards Malekith. The burst of nearly raw magical energy impacted the king of Svartalfheim's various incoming attack spells, dissipating them with ease and continuing on.

Malekith gaped at where the fist of raw magical energy had engulfed his attacks as if they were mere pinpricks. He only just managed to leap aside into the still covered corridor to get out of the ravenous blast. When it struck the area where he had been standing, he could then only stare in further shock as the ground there bubbled and sagged as if struck by a battering ram mixed with acid.

"Abyss curse that human, not even Odin or Freya can throw around raw magic of such potency so easily," Malekith gibbered. The hated Asgardian rulers might have had the magical potential to do so, but neither had the ability to just throw out such raw magic so quickly. "I, I am not a threat to that one, I am but a passing annoyance."

This was not a thought that Malekith was used to contemplating, at least when it came to humans, but he was a survivor above all else, and his instincts were telling him that the seidr-using human hovering before the jotun oaf's castle would wipe him out with the ease of a dragon slaying a rabbit.

Looking around his temporary hiding place, Malekith saw the magic-using human descend to the ground and a second later, another spell flashed out from his hands into the stone of Muspellheim. From said stone arose golems and giant lions appeared made out of the stone of the ground beneath them. Not in any great numbers, but being capable of casting such magic like that despite Surtur's control of the land in his realm was an appalling sign of how much sheer willpower and magic this human had. That, combined with the groaning, battered form of Surtur, whose massive figure lay half buried under the rubble of the castle's central keep, painted a very desolate picture for the dark elf king.

"O, once more the rule is being proven, to match against this human in combat is a fool's game," Malekith mused, managing to regain some measure of his self-control though the words came out with little of his normal insouciance. "Now, how do I get out of here? It does not appear as if the Shadows seem willing to be involved fur—GAAH!"

A round, metal shield suddenly slammed into Malekith's back, and sending him flying into the nearby wall. Such a blow would've shattered a lesser man's bones, but the dark elf king merely cried out in pain. He rolled as he hit the ground, whirling to glare balefully at the one who had just dared to attack him.

Seeing Malekith through the haze of battle, the one who had killed Nikolai, he had swiftly left the Valkyries and the Heavy Gunners to dive down, shield first. Now, after having thrown his shield, he rolled from where he had landed, raising a hand to catch his shield on the rebound. Without a word, he attacked, angling his shield to stab edge-on into Malekith's side.

Malekith hastily raised a magical barrier, forming it barely an inch away from his body before the weaponized shield of his opponent bounced off of it. Several more shield strikes followed as Malekith took the chance to back away, being mindful to try and keep out of sight of the more dangerous human by Surtur while still retreating deeper into the ruins of the castle. However, before he could get too far, the red-white-and blue-spangled shield warrior pulled a small device from his belt and tossed it forward to explode against his magical barrier.

The impact of that whatever it was caused the shield to flicker out of existence, and Malekith backed away hastily as the shield wielder marched closer, pulling out a spare sword he had requested from Surtur. It had matched Malekith's size but obviously lacked the elegance of a blade made by his own people. At the time, it had been needs must, so he'd accepted the subpar offering. Now, he'd wished he'd pushed for something, anything, a bit more worthy for battle. Backing further away, Malekith tried several offensive spells, but unfortunately his timing was off and he passed through a passageway that had lost its roof just as he started casting, the light of his magic giving away his position.

Seeing the spellfire out of the corner of his eye, Harry belted out a Finite Incantatum without missing a beat, the high-powered dispelling magic washing over both combatants below. Steve was unaffected as he'd had no enchantments of any kind on him save for those woven into his suit via runic arrays, but Malekith's spells utterly disappeared. A split second later, Captain America charged forward full bore.

As Malekith prepared to meet the oncoming human, he kept a smirk he didn't honestly feel upon his face, hoping the sight of his nonchalance would get under this man's skin. "My, my, so much anger. Did my killing your acquaintance truly unman you to this extent? Were you two...close? How scandalous!"

Admittedly this was rather random and somewhat crude, but Malekith had only been able to hope for some kind of reaction. That was how he fought after all, by destabilizing his opponents until they revealed a weakness to exploit. Yet this human didn't respond at all, instead grimly redirecting Malekith's sword blow with ease only to lash out with his shield in a blow that caught the dark elf king in the lower leg, shattering his shin and causing him to fall to one knee. A hasty barrier spell narrowly covering his forearm allowed Malekith to just block the next blow from the man's shield, but then the human's other hand was grabbing his sword arm and flipping him into a wall.

Just before he could slam into that wall, Malekith and Surtur both disappeared, teleported away and entirely out of Muspellheim, once more saved by their masters. Holding onto Malekith as he had been, Steve also disappeared. The Shadows had finally recovered from their shock at the failure of their illusions earlier, and now were putting forth their husbanded strength in earnest.

OOOOOOO

Steve retched as the teleportation spell ended, slumping to one side, entirely disoriented by the abrupt shift. In contrast Malekith was able to recover almost instantly, pushing himself to his feet with blade in hand as he wrenched his captured arm free of Steve's grip. With a vicious snarl the dark elf king lashed out towards the human who'd so dared against him, but somehow Steve managed to block the strike with his shield at the last second, rolling just enough to bring it to bear even as his treacherous stomach tried to join the fight on Malekith's side.

With no strength behind the riposte, Malekith's sword skittered across the front of the shield instead of being bounced away, slicing slightly into Steve's shoulder, although not penetrating enough to kill the joint. Malekith whipped his blade back and down, this time aiming for the Steve's leg.

Steve couldn't quite block fast enough as the dark elf king redirected his feint towards his foot at the last second.

Thankfully his were armor-lined and the blade once more didn't manage to penetrate much, but the blow did break something inside Steve's calf. Still taken worse wounds before this new futuristic life of his, and he pushed through the pain this, rolling backward and to the side with his other leg. A second later, Steve stood his back against a weird, metal-glass tree sculpture. Glaring at Malekith, he raised his shield as his eyes flicked around, taking in the area around him, his shield up in front of him.

The dark elf king lashed out with spellfire this time around, a wickedly gleeful smile on his face. "No wizard to help you now!" he caroled, his wide angled spells attempting to wrap around his prey, trying to bind him in place. "Indeed, there is no one to help you now, human!"

Another spell flashed out, but Steve dodged the first spell by pivoting to putt the weird tree between him and Nickolai's killer. A second later he leaped to the side, shielding his body as best he could from a second and third spell before ducking into a combat roll to the side. Coming to a stop, he launched his shield at Malekith like a discus, causing the dark elf king to grimace and create a magic barrier in his defense. There was a sudden loud 'GONG' sound and then the human somehow was holding a rifle "What, where in the—?"

Steve didn't reply. He'd gotten out of the habit of bantering with his enemies back in WW2, the Red Skull having been more than enough of an abject lesson of why monologuing was bad. Instead, he switched his gauss rifle to full auto, making a point of thumbing over the runic array that had previously enlarged his shots to the size of tank rounds to the off setting, before firing. The gauss rounds crashed into Malekith's magical shield, the innumerable impacts, causing hundreds of firecrackers bursts of light blinding both men.

But Steve was already moving, sliding into a nearby hole in the ground left by something that he'd seen off to one side.

Nearby, Surtur was having just as much trouble with the sudden shift from one dimension to another as Captain America had, although for a different reason. Moments before, Surtur had managed to rouse himself from having been battered nearly into unconsciousness by seidr-using human only to see said human use some kind of spell to create an army of golems from the earth of Muspellheim itself. Such blasphemy was piing insult upon insult, something Surtur had not been able to bear, and he had once more thrust his consciousness into the ground in order to try and fight off the magic. Being torn from that connection had been immensely disorienting, although it had also undoubtedly saved his life from the human's next assault.

Thus Surtur lay nearby, nearly insensate, groaning pitiably for all the world like a hill with a migraine. As he lay there in a daze, the Jotun King's numerous wounds, some of which were very serious, began to close. This was not because he had any great healing ability as a jotun or anything, but was instead due to the nature of his blood, which cooled and turned to stone even as it seeped out of him. Brought so low, Surtur had no desire, nor ability, to think about what the dark elf rat was doing to make such a racket.

As the flow of bullets ceased, Malekith dropped shield and leaped to one side, still blinking spots from his eyes and wishing to avoid any follow up attack from the annoyingly persistent human he was up against. As the spots faded, the dark elf king took a glance at where he was. Another wicked grin stole across his face. "Ah, Svartalfheim, a good choice, I suppose. We would be caught much more easily if we had gone back to Utgard…"

However, a moment later, his good humor vanished as he took in a more full measure of his surroundings, only now noticing how desolate the area was. Then he saw bodies scattered nearby and even as he used another spell to hide his presence and a second to duplicate himself as he had back in their first contest, Malekith turned his attention away from the garishly dressed human, his eyes narrowing in anger. "And what has gone on here in my absence? If the remnants of the various clans have gone to war without my firm grip around their throats, I swear to—"

The sound of glass shattering and metal screaming as it warped caused Malekith to whirl around in fright only to yelp and leap away in shock as a massive wolf burst out from behind a nearby forest of steel and glass. A reflexive cutting curse only served to cause the wolf to turn in his direction, distracting the creature long enough for the blasted human to scramble away in awe of the huge wolf as well.

"Good grief, that's Fenrir?! Then that means…" Steve looked closer and spotted the body of a armor-wearing human on Fenrir's back, made small by the wolf's bulk. "Dani!"

Before Captain America could consider what to do about this revelation, Fenrir spoke, eyes locked on Malekith. "Hrrm, you look real little elf, and you have an actual scent. That means you might be real meat. That is good, I've gotten tired of guessing which of your folk is real and which is not. Only getting it right four out of every ten times has left me ravenous!"

With that the giant wolf charged forward, his maw gaping wide.

"AHHH! Malekith screamed in fear, and tried to run, knowing his spells would do next to nothing to this creature. Diving out of the way of Fenrir's charge, the dark elf king rolled into a small creak before jumping to his feet, splashing away as the dread wolf, ignoring Steve, turned to come after him again.

Before Fenrir could continue his hunt, however, the Shadows intervened. Several doppelgangers of Malekith appeared around the stream, each of them fleeing in a different direction. This caused Fenrir to pause for a second, more out of frustration than wondering which was real. The Shadows once again had no sense of how important smell was to those of a more bestial nature. They knew how to create the illusion of scents to the extent they could fool humans and Asgardians, but a creature like Fenrir was a different story.

As the phantasms spread out, so too did the magic that constituted their false scents. In no time, Fenrir was able to pick out which Malekith smelled the most real and charged through several real and illusory trees after Svartalfheim's king.

Still fleeing as fast as he could, Malekith heard the thudding of Fenrir's paws coming closer but didn't dare look behind him. As he ran, Malekith spotted an open cave mouth and, desperately raced for it, flinging himself in just ahead of Fenrir's snapping jaws. "GRAAA!"

Gulping down air, Malekith shook his head and looked back at what he'd just escaped. Fenrir was now tearing into the hillside like a fox would when after a rabbit. This was not a position Malekith had ever found himself in before, but after a moment he slowly pushed himself to his feet, scowling. "Hold, Fenrir! Whatever transpired in battle since this war began, you are still the enemy of Asgard and all who stand with it, are you not?! Why are you trying to devour me when there is a similarly tasty human I know for fact is aligned with Asgard standing right out there!? Would he not be more delicious than one such as I?"

"I remember the tortures and betrayal of the Asgardians, yes. But I also remember the madness forced upon my mind, the unending, ravenous hunger that drove me like a horde of whips! And did you know morsel, that the madness is gone now, that Danielle, she who called me friend, told me about the Shadows?!" Fenrir's retort ended in a roar. "You may not fill my stomach, elf, but you will still taste sweet going down the gullet!"

Fenrir ignored the illusions all around him now, concentrating his mind on his sense of smell. His nose told him that the real Malekith, the dark elf king who stunk of fear, sweat, and magic, still hid in the cave he clawed at. He focused on that above all else, and thus the illusions of the Shadows could gain no hold on his mind strong enough to turn him aside.

Beyond that, the impact of the Shadows on Fenrir was miniscule, compared to most others at present anyway. The Shadows could mess with his mind to be sure, but not easily. Like his sense of smell, the bestial nature of Fenrir's thoughts and emotions protected him from being as easily manipulated as the Shadows could the minds of the Asgardians now that their long term machinations had been laid bare.

The Shadows were also too busy at present to put forth that effort here…

Steve had been following them, hiding himself as best he could under any cover he could find, and had come close enough to hear this. But now the ground trembled and he looked behind him to see that Surtur was on his feet, staring over the debris separating his hill-sized form from Fenrir. In his hands he held Gungnir and now he thrust it forward.

Thinking quickly, Steve came to a decision. The enemy of my enemy might just be my enemy's enemy, but I am very much without friends here. And there's Dani to consider too. "Fenrir, look out! To your left!"

Surtur's gaze twitched in the direction of the shout, but the meddlesome human was already moving, racing away even as he fired off a magical blast from Gungnir,. The ravening beam of magic, denser and far deadlier than even Harry or Stephen could accomplish without a lot of concentration, should have struck the dread wolf's side dead on. Instead, thanks to the human's warning, the pulse of magic seared across one of Fenrir's back legs as the giant beast reflexively dodged, the beam continuing towards the human himself.

The beam seared away some of the fur from that leg, but that was all. Fenrir's hide was proof against magic of most calibers. He was, after all, the wolf fated to slay Odin during the Ragnarök.

Knowing his chance at a sneak attack had come and gone, Surtur instead decided on direct combat and bellowed, "Die, foolish beast!" A moment later, the earth around moved to his command, spikes of stone and hands of rock bursting up toward Fenrir, aiming , trying to tie the wolf down, or spear the wolf in his slightly wounded leg.

But the spikes could not punch through Fenrir's hide, and those that stabbed at his wounded stomach—those slight wounds Garm had caused—instead hurled the giant wolf away, causing him to scramble to keep from rolling over onto the girl on his back even as he snapped at the hands trying to bind him. Fenrir lunged forward, dodging similar attack, fangs bared as he wove his way towards the giant. "Do you think I would not eat you as well?! You may not be tasty or filling, but I am the Wolf Who Will Devour the Sun! Do you think your paltry heat will deter me!?"

Elsewhere on the battlefield, Steve groaned, seemingly forgotten for now. He had managed to Surtur's attack, but not without consequence, cracking his head against the lip of another cave mouth in his haste. Disoriented and with a screaming headache, Steve tried to push himself to his feet only to freeze as he saw someone standing over him by his left side.

Malekith stood there, having used Surtur's distraction of Fenrir's attention to use the magic of his people to shift the earth of the collapsed cave he'd been trapped in. With it he'd been able to get around the previous rockfall that had blocked it from the greater cave system and circle around the dread wolf. "One would almost think Fenrir's not used to playing well with others." He drawled, his usual aplomb restored as he stood over the clearly injured human. "Now, where were we?"

However, before Malekith could say more an arrow nearly found his heart, smashing into his breastplate with punishing force. His breastplate stopped the arrow from penetrating his flesh, but two more arrows quickly followed, striking with punishing force, causing him to stumble the human pushed himself to his feet, ignoring his wounds, and bringing his round shield into Malekith's side.

Malekith, though, still retained his sword, and as he rolled with the blow, he brought it around to bear, using it to send out a series of attacks at the human while also lashing out towards the direction the arrows had come. With his other hand, he called a ball of Blue-Fyre into existence. "Curse it, who else is here?!"

Skadi had arrived nearly an hour ago. She'd followed Fenrir's tracks very carefully, knowing both of the antipathy the dread wolf had for all Asgardians as well as the fact that she had no chance in a fight against him. She hadn't interfered previously, being worried that Fenrir was about to join forces with the two enemy kings, but now that concern had faded.

Once more an arrow flew, this one taking Malekith in the side. Again, her attack was thwarted, and again, the Huntress hissed in annoyance.

Yet some of the Shadows were still concentrating on this battlefield, and suddenly, the positions of Malekith and Captain America shifted in Skadi's mind the moment of change woven into the normal flow of combat. Instantly, she shifted her aim to compensate for the new positioning, arrow after arrow streaking toward 'Malekith', who blocked them all as if he had a shield. Whatever magic it was, each impact still caused him to stumble, forcing him to retreat.

Now free from one opponent, Malekith turned his magics upon the human, cutting spells and binding spells reaching for him. "Can you feel it, human?" Malekith laughed as he realized what had happened. "Can you feel the course of this war turning against you and yours? Pyrrhic though it may be, I think it will be my side who wins in the end."

"I haven't heard a fat lady sing yet bastard!" Steve shot back, ducking down into a ditch made by a previous attack from Surtur. At that moment, another such blast from Gungnir missed its intended target of Fenrir entirely and nearly struck Malekith, who ducked aside, cursing.

Then Steve was gone, racing away even as Skadi tracked him with a hail of arrows. This battle isn't over, let alone the war. not until the fat lady sings, Steve thought blocking still more arrows, shaking his head. But unless something changes quick, that song's going to be a dirge!

OOOOOOO

By the time Harry and the others had breached Muspellheim's defenses and were pushing Surtur and his reserve of troops to the brink, Jörmungandr was somewhat confused. He was feeling almost drained, as if this battle with Þór and these Midgardian humans had been going on for weeks on end rather than barely a thirty two hours. Which was just preposterous.

And yet his body felt heavier than it ever had before. Even just general movement now weren't quite as sharp as they normally should be either. And Jörmungandr could not explain this away because of the number of wounds so far accrued since been driven above water either. While Jörmungandr's body had been battered in numerous areas, none of the humans nor their Asgardian ally had caused any injury that was truly life-threatening; the World Serpent was simply too BIG and too durable. Even the human with powerful magic couldn't cause any hurt worse than Þór could thanks to Jörmungandr's size and magical resistance.

On the other end of the scale, Ororo was also taking stock of things as the sun reached midday position above them. Ben Grimm had been scraped off of the serpent several times when he went for the creature's belly. The Hulk and Thundra had both been hit by lucky swats. Thundra's legs had been crushed at one point, and subsequently healed by Ororo, although how Thundra had managed to save her broom was a tale in itself. Thunderbird had been smashed into the ocean of ice so hard he'd broken through into the water beneath and had had to be pulled out magically by the Scarlet Witch. And the Hulk's luck failed and he'd been gnawed on before being spat out like a pistachio shell with such force he had flown out of sight.

Þór had also been smacked around true, but his strength was such that while he might've been wounded, he had yet to be forced to retreat for even the slightest bit of time since his arrival. Instead, the Thunderer's hammer blows continued to echo from one end of the frozen ocean to the other along with his booming warcries.

As for the long-ranged members of Team Fishermen, Stephen had taken a stray blast of high pressure water to the back after it had somehow ricocheted off the wreckage of an upturned slab of ice. The strike, unintended as it may have been, had still sent him ass over teakettle, causing him to crash headfirst into the side of a veritable ice floe.

The Scarlet Witch had similarly suffered the fate of being smacked out of the sky, only her incident was caused by a random bit of scale knocked loose by Þór. The shard had struck her with such force it had broken her arm like a twig. The young woman's resultant cursing had made even Thunderbird and Þór look at her askance, turning away from Jörmungandr briefly to look at her furious figure before getting back to business. While Stephen had been able to quickly return to the fray, the Scarlet Witch had not, instead choosing to retreat entirely and deal with her broken arm and sheer physical and magical exhaustion. She soon rose up high enough to retreat to the chariot, joining Emma Steed and Xian.

For her part, Storm was still going strong physically, as were the two telepaths technically, although they had husbanded their strength before this on purpose. This was only because Ororo flew due to her mutant power, however, rather than her magical energy. If she'd had to rely on that drying wellspring, then she wouldn't have been able to keep fighting. Indeed, she had retreated entirely at this point, concentrating all of her mental willpower on keeping her mutant power actively focused on the ocean and freezing the water around Jörmungandr.

It wasn't as easy task, and every time she had to break off to heal the Hulk, Thunderbird, Rogue, or the others she lost that hard fought concentration and the regular weather of Asgard soon moved to rear its head again. Each little crack in the trap allowed Jörmungandr to make more headway in breaking out of the ice and diving back into the water that was, by this point, a few hundred feet below the surface.

Even as he slowly hammered team Fishermen into paste, the giant serpent had not stopped struggling to escape. The voices of his masters commanded it, the Shadows shouting their orders every few minutes into his mind. Jörmungandr had spent hundreds of years obeying the voices, growing fat in the doing. Father? Betrayed. Family? Betrayed. His adoptive mother's lifeless body? Hidden without even a second's thought. All of this and more had been done for the sake of obeying the Shadows and being given leave to feast on anything he wished for eternity. He would not deny them now, and as he started to feel that exhaustion, any hesitance fled.

The source of Jörmungandr's exhaustion was herself feeling somewhat exhausted and quite frustrated. Every time Rogue had touched Jörmungandr so far, she'd drained just a bit more of the creature's energy. She could tell that she was doing a lot more damage every time she punched the monster afterward at least, breaking several scales and crippling a whole paw at one point.

Indeed, Rogue reckoned she was stronger than even the Hulk by now, but Jörmungandr was still…just… too… damn… big! For every wound they caused, there was so much more of Jörmungandr to fight it was like a band of Smurfs attempting to fight an Anaconda the size of an oak tree.

When next she was flung away, Rogue barely felt the impact as she skidded across the ice. Not even the initial impact hurt much, even though it had hurled the Southern belle off of her former perch low down on the monster's visible back.

Rolling until her feet were under her, Rogue pulled her broom off her back. With it between her legs, she flew back towards Jörmungandr, again, and then around, waiting for Þór and Thunderbird to grab his attention like they did. She watched as the Thing tried using a hatchet to cut at the monster's flank where its body came out of the frozen ocean. The blow sounded like a round from a battleship going off, but still only a few scales shattered under the impact and in return the Thing was smacked away by a simple flex from Jörmungandr.

But that and then Þór's blow from above did succeed in catching Jörmungandr's attention. Seeing that, Rogue dove back in, dodging around a spell from Stephen, or rather a series of spells. The sorcerer had begun to chain his spells together as the fight had dragged on, one after another in deadlier and deadlier combinations. This time first came a spell that condensed several dozen cutting curses into a singular, narrow focus, which cut into and through a several scales in one go. This was followed by a looser kind of spell that somehow added to the damage in a way Rogue didn't quite understand. However it worked, the magic caused blood to burst out from between the already shattered or cut scales.

Landing on Jörmungandr's writhing back near the halfway point of his length that was out of the water, Rogue dimly heard Storm giving out orders through the communicator built into the neck of her combat outfit. "Thunderbird, retreat. You should have been able to dodge that last blow entirely. You're getting too tired, pull back and rest."

"Dammit all, no! I am an Apache warrior! I am not going to run away like that! By the spirits, my ancestors would never let me live such a disgrace down!" Thunderbird snarled, rearing back on his carpet. The magical transport zoomed back in, angling to attack Jörmungandr's underbelly once more.

Rogue completely ignored this bit of drama, far too busy hammering another blow into the patch of scales to the side of where she was clinging, her other hand gripping a jutting scale so hard she felt it crack under her grip. "Why won't yah feel it, yah bastard!? Hell, Ah drained the Juggernaut in less time than this, way less time! An' he was runnin' on god-power."

Above the fuming Southern belle, Thundra paused for a moment before completely pulling out of her attack run. Instead she shifted around and came at Jörmungandr from behind until she was directly above where Rogue was clinging, punching away. "Rogue, you're already becoming affected by whatever you are draining from the beast."

"Wait, what?" Rogue asked, snapping out of her rage and staring up at the older woman. "That can't be. Ah mean, he's moving a little slower Ah guess, but—"

"Rogue, you're at least two feet larger than I am now, and I was head and shoulders taller than you when we arrived. And looking at your arms, I can see from here where your skin is changing into scales."

Rogue blinked, her confusion quickly devolving into worry. She looked down at her arms. Sure enough, scales were beginning to grow under the skin of her arms, already visible were nothing had not been there what felt like only moments ago. The increased size had probably begun a while back, though Rogue hadn't noticed.

Rogue stared down at her arms for just a moment as she hung there with her still gloved hand, scowling in thought as Thunderbird was once more bashed away and Jörmungandr and Þór exchanging several blows for the umpteenth time. What if these changes stay like this like mah super strength did after Ah drained the Juggernaut dry? Lord have mercy that wouldn't be good at all. Especially if the process keeps on going. What would Scott think? Hell, what would Ah even look like in the first place?

Her thoughts were interrupted as the Hulk suddenly bellowed in fury while Thunderbird howled in pain and rage Jörmungandr's bulk abruptly jutted sideways, hammered by some great impact elsewhere along his massive flank. This was followed a second later by Þór bellowing his own warcry. "Have at tHEEERK!"

The Asgardian was abruptly cut off as he was unexpectedly jetted into the sky by an undulation of Jörmungandr's coiling length, as if the serpent was a massive elongated trampoline rather than a giant serpent. While still in midair, a jet of concentrated poison struck Þór, but the condensed miasma did nothing to the Thunderer.

From her foothold, Rogue could already see Storm moving in to help with the wounded again. She could also feel Jörmungandr shuddering, wrenching more lengths of flank violently from side to side, shattering still more of the imprisoning ice. Looking down, the Southern belle realized for the first time that she could see flowing water below the surface of the frozen ocean now.

That glance did it for her. Swapping hands with a snarl, Rogue used her teeth to rip off her remaining glove, noticing absently that her teeth had grown sharper alongside her other changes. With both hands bare, Rogue grabbed onto two different scales, her absorption powers going into overtime.

As the energy flowed into her, she could now actually feel herself growing, transforming. Her fingers grew into claws, her eyes shifted as their pupils stretched into slits like those of a reptile, her hair began to disappear.

Gasping at suddenly feeling exhaustion slamming down, Jörmungandr twisted, the segment where the feeling of weakness centered from flipping to the side and up. For all her new, increased strength, Rogue still lost her grip and was flung up into the air.

Hissing with a mouth far too full of teeth to fully close, Rogue rolled in midair and snarled as she locked eyes with the World Serpent. "Fuck you, ya monster!" As gravity worked to reassert itself, Rogue brought her fists together and angled down onto an already wounded segment of the monster as it rolled underneath her into the perfect position.

For the first time since Þór had originally arrived, Jörmungandr screamed out in true, raw agony. As the double fisted blow rammed home, blood exploded from the wound and back on to Rogue. Jörmungandr twisted and shivered and shook in place so hard more of the ice shattered entirely by accident, and a portion of his flank crashed into Rogue's side, sending her flying sideways through the air.

While Þór and several others cheered at the proof that they were finally wounding the giant monster in a significant way, Storm instead screamed in desperate rage. "No!"

The weather goddess's fury came as she realized that a significant portion of Jörmungandr's bulk had shattered through the ice all along its length, and now, he had twisted around, moving back along his length and having disastrously managed to toss Þór and Rogue out of the way, the World Serpent was preparing break the last of her oceanic prison to bits.

Also realizing this, the Thing raced over to the Hulk. Ben had a mad, extremely insane, and possibly suicidal idea of how to force Jörmungandr back above water once freed and returned to under the ocean waves. After all, if it worked once before, it can work again, right? Piotr and the rest said they were able to get in and out of the big guy to retrieve that Sigyn gal's body. And we did see Strange do a lot of damage to the bastard's mouth. "Throw me at his mouth!"

The Hulk blinked, shaking his head at the ludicrous demand. "Wait, what?"

"Throw me at his mouth!" Ben repeated. "Give me a fastball special!"

The Hulk blinked again, speechless, then, with a shrug, grabbed Ben's arm. Twirling in place, he built up momentum and when he deemed it enough, released Ben. Like an orange, man-shaped shotput. The Thing flew through the air, aiming straight for Jörmungandr's wide open jaws. The World Serpent had heaved breathe out one last cloud of poison at Rogue, who he had identified as the source of the exhaustion that had suddenly ramped up within him.

Rogue reeled away on instinct, the sight of the roiling poison causing her to gasp somewhat. But, as the cloud of death converged upon her nothing happened, much to the serpent's annoyance.

Then Ben arrived, flashing between Jörmungandr's jaws into the creature's mouth just before the serpent closed his maw, the creature's head disappearing into the ocean a second later. "Woohoo!"

For a moment, everyone could only stare, Then Þór bellowed in fury and charged forward, grabbing onto the creature as best he could and pulling mightily in an effort to force his cousin back out of the water. "By the All-father, you will not escape me!"

But Þór found that, even with his gauntlets and belt, he lacked the strength to pull Jörmungandr out of the ocean. Indeed, with only the ice beneath him, Þór found himself instead first dragged along, then flung away, much like Rogue had been only moments ago.

Above them, Thundra and the others still airborne simply stared at the spot where Ben and the serpent had disappeared. "What? Just… what? Does that fool of a man think that he can…"

"I rather think he does," Storm chuckled wryly, forcing the lightheartedness through her worry for the rocky man. Snapping back into focus, she spoke into her communicator, getting everyone to gather around. "If I know Benjamin as well as I think I do, we will have a few minutes before he bothers that beast enough to want to surface and try and get rid of him. When that happens, we must be ready for it. After all, we have the perfect way to track him…" she turned, watching as the carpet assigned to Ben moved off, zooming away over the water. "That will do."

A moment later, however, Storm's good humor vanished. Xian and Emma Steed had stood up in the chariot and almost in concert began shouting. "The Shadows! They're pressing in on the Astral Plane. We're cut off from Charles and—"

Steed's voice suddenly broke off, as if she were far too busy concentrating on defending herself and the minds of team Fishermen to bother with words, while beside her Xian's voice rose into a wordless cry of effort before she felt back into the chariot. The final push had begun.

Ben Grimm slid down Jörmungandr's gullet as the World Serpent retreated through the now shattered remnants of the ice shelf, immediately attacking the walls of flesh all around him. As he fell in the darkness, the rocky man was unaware that his insane move had placed him within one of the few areas within the Nine Realms of Yggdrasil that the Shadows could not reach; inside the body of another living creature.

Using the harpoon he'd managed to hold onto he stabbed out, jerking to a halt as he held him still for a moment. He had just long enough to reach back with his other hand and pull Thunderbird's hatchet out of the strap holding it in place before tThe harpoon broke then, but Ben still hacked and slashed everything he could reach as he was bounced around, bellowing out, "I might've not been able ta hurt ya on the outside big guy, but I'll sure as hell do it from the inside!"

The World Serpent bucked and heaved through the waters of Asgard, diving deeper and away from the enemies who had assailed him. Þór and that human wench had severely wounded Jörmungandr. Oh not to the point where there was any real danger of dying, but pain had become an unfamiliar thing over the centuries and yet in that one battle alone more damage had been accrued than in all the previous iterations of Ragnarök combined.

But now, he could retreat. He could heal, hiding at the bottom of his ocean. There, even Þór would be a fool to follow him. And even if the warriors of Midgard do come after me, they will lose their primary advantage of mobility. I will crush them all within my coils before devouring them all!

Jörmungandr's hungry thoughts were interrupted by a pain from inside his vast bulk. Closing his eyes safe behind nictitating membranes the size of sails, Jörmungandr turned inward and searched for the source of such odd discomfort. There! An interloper had somehow made its inside. Blargh, again!? The serpent thought with a growl, a fanged scowl of irritation crossing serpentine features as memories of a similar violation from several months back flashed. It had been the same Weather Witch from above the waves! She had been the one to lead a team that had absconded with that woman's body. She had seemed vaguely familiar, as far as insignificant pests could be.

But I will not let this stone-formed one free as I was forced to do them. I will digest him and make his strength my own! With that, Jörmungandr sent a mental command to the symbiotic defenders he held within miles of stomach, just for such an occasion. They had been a clan of troll-kin once, eaten whole. The survivors had begged, pleaded for their lives, and Jörmungandr had graciously made a deal afterward with the survivors. In return for not digesting them as he had their fellows, they would worship the World Serpent in perpetuity. Jörmungandr had rather liked that, food which worshipped the one who would inevitably devour it.

Alas, Jörmungandr recalled now that a vast majority of the troll-kin had been slain in battle by the group that had freed Sigyn's body, including their champion and leader, Ulik. Even trolls could not recover their numbers sufficiently in only a few months without aid. Aid that Those Who Watch Above in Shadow had neglected to give them, seeing no point in doing so as with their tether's prisoner freed, why would anyone venture into the World Serpent's stomach ever again? This oversight was something that Jörmungandr was now somewhat annoyed by, but he knew the same could not be said for his other internal defenders.

A moment later, thanks to the impetus from the strength of the Hulk's throw coupled with Jörmungandr's own movements, Ben slammed down into the serpent's first stomach sack. {}In total he'd made more than half the journey Storm and the Custodes had fought through previously in one go, and in less than a quarter of the time. Of course, he now found himself hip-deep in the acid at the bottom of said stomach sack, which sloshed and splashed everywhere across an expanse that looked like two football fields set side by side, but he'd been in worse places before.

Nearly as soon as he'd gotten his feet under him, the Thing's hatchet and the wooden parts of the harpoon shaft he still carried began to sizzle, the wood of the shafts quickly melting into sludge. Thankfully, Ben's altered skin was made of sterner stuff. "Ain't no acid that can take ah bite outta me, ya snakey fuck!" he laughed, barely feeling a tingle along his shins.

A second later, however, the grin that had been stretched across the Thing's rocky face was wiped away as stomach worms the size of his thighs fell from the ceiling. They plopped into the acid in the dozens, then hundreds. "Oh. Well, this just topped my grossest fights list."

With that, the Thing hurled himself sideways and began to pound on the stomach lining nearest him, digging in with the hatchet before it could completely melt. Surprisingly, he was able to make a cut after only a handful of swings. Leaving the hatchet where it had sliced into oversized snake flesh to sizzle and melt away, the giant worm things finally reached him. "Looks like it's Clobberin' Time!"

The worms attacked, but the Thing tore them into pieces with ease. They didn't seem to have any durability to speak of, so he,stomped down on several and punched others so hard they exploded without breaking a sweat. He waded into a mass of the little buggers as more of the giant stomach worms appeared from a passage leading further through Jörmungandr's vast insides. "Okay then!"

The Thing grunted as still more appeared behind him, pressing into his back until soon he could barely move for how many of the worms had surrounded him. But they were still squishy as hell, which allowed him to literally break through them and make headway. How long he fought the stomach worms alone, he'd never know, but eventually, a group of trolls appeared in the passageway. Each was as large as Ben himself, if not a little taller,.They appeared at first glance like Neanderthals from Earth's past, extremely hairy with deep-set eyes under extremely heavy brows.

They wielded more advanced weaponry than stones and sticks though, each and every one armed with either iron clubs or steel blades. As the Thing neared them though, seemed almost wary of coming too close as the Thing fought on in the acid pool at the bottom of the huge stomach. However, this reluctance ended as soon as Ben nailed the biggest one with the broken corpse of one of the worms. "Hah ha! Get in or get out! Don't just lurk at the edge of things like the Yancy Street Gang!"

"Slay him for Lord Jörmungandr!" The trolls bellowed as one, tearing forward. They skirted the edge of the acid pool, clearly not as impervious as the Thing, which let the Ben kill several more worms before countercharging.

Kicking two more worms up, he aimed them into the snarling faces of the nearest few trolls. As the forerunners stumbled, shrieking as the acid still on the worms ate into their flesh, the Thing leaped forward, kicking off a wall of the stomach sack to land amongst the trolls. They struck at him, but Ben put his trust in his stone hide and ignored his own defense in favor of pure offense, smashing the trolls away in droves.

This did result in him taking a few hard knocks from well-aimed clubs, but the trolls' blades merely pinged off of his armored skin. Whenever he managed to land a solid blow and smash one of the defenders down, he'd grab up their weapons and hurl them with all his might at the walls of Jörmngandr's stomach all around him.

Feeling these various strikes and having followed the stone-borne since becoming aware of him, Jörmungandr nearly gagged in pain. Jaws opening wide, the serpent gulped down a sea's worth of water in an attempt to drown the strange human, growling words that reverberated inwardly. "Will you die already, Stone One?!"

On the heels of the rumbling voice that sounded like it came from all around him, Ben suddenly heard a loud swooshing sound that overlayed the sounds of the battle. Looking up from where he had two trolls in headlocks, he cursed as he saw hundreds and thousands of gallons of water rushing down Jörmungandr gullet into his stomach.

Instantly the remaining trolls ceased attacking and began to retreat, save for those Ben held trapped. Those unlucky individuals began to scrabble at his arms around their throats. With more pressing issues to worry about, he tossed them aside without a backwards glance. Knowing his time was running out, Ben raced back to where he'd succeeded in cutting into the side of Jörmungandr stomach lining. The bleeding wound was easily the largest injury the Thing had caused so far, and now Ben violently thrust a hand into it, grabbing at anything he could.

His other hand soon followed, and the Thing held on against the torrent of water for all he was worth, unwilling to let go and complete this particular journey from that end of the serpent. As the water level rose, he breathed in deeply, filling his lungs to capacity before clamping his mouth shut. What was my record again? Stretch said five hours right? I should be good. Thanks to his stony form, Ben Grimm's body no longer needed as much oxygen as it did before, and so he could now hold his breath for far longer than humanly possible. This had come in handy many times before, particularly when he and the rest of the FF had fought Namor.

Moments later, water filled Jörmungandr's stomach from floor to ceiling and Ben found himself floating, still holding on fist deep in giant serpent guts. He watched through the haze of water mixed with stomach acid and blood as bodies of trolls and worms alike were pulled away further down Jörmungandr's gastral tract. He could only shake his head as he saw that several of the trolls were still alive as they went by, grabbing at their throats and trying desperately to swim towards what constituted as the ceiling. They would find no air there, however, as Jörmungandr continued to gulp down ever more water.

Once again Ben lost track of time as he just held on there, waiting for Jörmungandr to stop drinking, waiting for the water to settle. How long he hung on, he couldn't quite tell, but even Ben's prodigious lungs began to burn before the water began to recede and finally settle.

As soon as he could breathe, the Thing went right back to tearing away at the wound he'd just been holding onto. I'm still heeeerree! He jeered mentally, concentrating just as much on filling his lungs as doing damage.

He was nearly thrown loose as Jörmungandr really began to squirm and buck, his voice a roar that echoed through the cavernous space all around him. "Blast you to the ends of Hel, you golem-faced freak! Why won't you die?!"

Still, Ben held on, a fierce grin on his face. A singular thought blazed to the forefront of his mind with each punch. I'm going to be the biggest stomachache you've ever felt, beastie!

OOOOOOO

Initially, the Shadows had hoped that Surtur's defenses would slow the attackers down on their own. But with their leader's direct involvement had thrown that idea out the window and with the majority of his army lying dead on the fields of Utgard, Surtur lacked the strength to defend his realm against the assault. Muspellheim was thus written off as lost.

the gestalt took hollow solace in the fact their pawns had, made certain that Odin would no longer be of any threat even if the human magic user and his allies could free the All-Father from the Odin-sleep he'd been forced into. And really, so long as their tethers remained alive, what did it matter if they lost battles? Every second spent against them was another second the human telepaths weakened under their psionic assaults, and that was the most important thing.

To that end, the Shadows had husbanded their strength most assiduously throughout the night, even as they then were forced to waste a large portion of it to teleport Surtur and Malekith to Muspellheim hours back.

At the same time they kept up their assaults on the Astral Plane as well. The attacks were low level for most part, but that was more to lull their enemies into a false sense of security rather than any surfeit of strength on that battlefield.

Now, with their tether and the being who had proven an even better pawn away, the Shadows launched their next wave of attacks.

They still didn't directly assault the human wizard known as Potter. They had learned that such a tactic was a fool's game. No, the Shadows set their remaining magical energies to attacking the Asgardian main base camp.

Meanwhile on the Astral Plane, what had been a period of only minor activity ended with the abruptness of a tsunami. Unlike magical attacks, which took power they no longer wanted to risk wasting, telepathic assaults only took concentration. And the Shadows had that in spades.

True, a few of their number did have to split of to work separately—a disturbing and horrible experience but one that was deemed necessary at present—on doing what they could to aid Surtur and Malekith against the unexpected threat of Fenrir while another set attempted to help Jörmungandr retreat. However, these few did not have it their own way, as the two telepaths assigned to that battlefield were apparently better rested than the rest of their cursed brethren. They were not as strong, to be sure, but they were tenacious. Still, it would still only take a few moments to overcome them.

And as for those other telepaths? The telepaths that remained in the main Einherjar/expeditionary force's camp faced the rest of the Shadows' combined psionic might. A power that had not waned at all since the expeditionary force first arrived, whereas the strength of the defending telepaths had.

All along, the first line of defense had truly been Jean, Charles, and Emma, and they had borne the brunt of a tremendous degree of pressure for longer than any save one seemed to have ever experienced. A night of dealing with less powerful attacks might have allowed them to recuperate some of their strength, but it would soon prove to be a poor replacement indeed for a missed night's sleep.

OOOOOOO

Back at the basecamp, Jean, Betsy, and Charles were all awake, well fed and already working together to create the telepathic barrier around the camp. All of them were still feeling the strain of using their telepathic powers for so long consecutively, and Betsy wasn't as powerful as Emma, that was simple fact. Still, Betsy was actually better at taking instruction from Charles, so while the overall strength of the defense had waned, the reaction time they showed to the nigh -constant small scale probes the Shadows were launching at them throughout the night had gone up.

But when the real attack came, that did not save them. The sudden shift from small probes to an all out assault from all around the defenders in the Astral Plane began overwhelming the trio of telepaths almost immediately. As the outer wall's chief defender, Jean felt herself buckle, her face paling in shock as she nearly slid out of her seat in a boneless heap. Beside her, Charles held firm, but lines of sweat started to run down his face as his avatar pushed forward to help.

Betsy felt the magnitude of the attack, but only from her support position blocking anything that got through the defenses of the other two. Due to this, and the sheer weight hitting Jean and Charles, it fell to the violette to issue an audible warning. "Everyone, get ready! The Shadows are attacking in force again, and I don't think we can hold them off any longer!"

"Choose who to defend," groaned a groggy but somewhat recovered Amara. Eir and the other healing goddesses had set her to right within minutes of her arrival, but the treatment had sapped any remaining energy she had, and her mutant powers were still sending both physical and mental twinges of pain through her. Still, she was one of the Custodes most trained in leadership still left in the camp. "If you can't defend everyone in the camp, defend who you can. Knock out and incarcerate everyone else."

"You don't have to worry about me," Tony piped up, coming over and tapping the side of his helmet. "I figured out an energy-wave shield that can defend my mind against telepathic assault more than a year ago. It's insanely energy-intensive, but that's why my suit still runs on a miniature arc reactor."

"Regardless, it will be my folk who will be the main target of this attack I think," Freya said, scowling as she turned to Hogun and Sif. "Order all those still well and able out of the central camp. The chosen humans from Midgard can fort up here behind the palisade for a time along with the three of us and my handmaidens. Then the rest of the camp can be knocked out, along with your Oh Damn forces." Even now her lips tried to twitch into a smile at the name the humans had placed on their normal troops.

Much like the rest of the camp, the wooden palisade around the Asgardian area was not the primitive edifice it seemed at first glance. In truth, it was magically enhanced to a degree where the simple wooden construction could keep out even jotun. In a similar manner, it would be able to keep out most of the Asgardians, who were already camping outside of the central area already in well-organized lodges and tents so that the healers, the blacksmiths, and the main supply depot could be kept in the center of the camp behind the palisade.

The last of the Asgardians in the central camp were hurried out the doors along with the dvergar and the light elves. Some were confused, but others, the dvergar to a man, looked frightened and worried. The knowledge that there would be an incoming telepathic assault that would once more implant lies and falsehoods within their minds and turn them against one another and their new allies horrified them.

As soon as those individuals were gone Wolverine, Coyote, Uzume, and the rest of the expeditionary force that had been left behind took up positions on the palisade beside Sif and Hogun. They were soon joined by Husk, to much amazement and shock, who smiled wanly at them all even as she hefted a mace Hogun had found for her. She still looked a little ragged, but the worst of her wounds had been healed. Still, few would ever forget Paige's screams as the healers tore her ruined metal skin off forcing her back into her fleshy body for treatment. Nor had she assumed her metal form, instead changing into stone for the coming battle.

Freya also joined them with half of her remaining Valkyrie The other half had volunteered to have their lady knock them out, which she did promptly and with as little pain as possible. Once organized and arranged, Freya, Clea, and Tony then took to the sky, raining down stunning spells—or in Tony's case knock out gas—throughout the rest of the camp. The news of the coming assault hadn't been spread throughout the camp, to avoid panic, so this caused quite a hue and cry. Riding her steed over the camp, Freya's hard gaze hardly flinched. It had to be done.

At the same time, the Heavy Gunners left behind by the assault force took to the air once more. Their mortar guns were now loaded with a special stun round that Tony Stark had invented earlier that day. He had only had time to make a hundred canisters, but they all hoped that would be enough. The majority of the Orbital Drop Marines had already agreed to be knocked out by the magic users, their commanders knowing that there were too many of them for the telepaths to defend.

This all took a while, and Jean and Charles poured out their telepathic strength to hold the protective wall together over the minds of everyone within the camp for as long as they could. But when Jean felt herself losing consciousness, she forced herself to speak the words, to warn Charles as the darkness crept in. "I'm about to go, Professor. Pull back with Betsy. Protect those you can!"

Simultaneously, she sent a message out to Emma (the British version) and Xian, warning them of what was about to happen. "You two are going to be on your own from now on. Not even Charles will be able to protect both us and lend you help at the same time."

Betsy was reluctant but ultimately knew her telepathic powers weren't up to stepping into Jean's shoes when she fell. Wordlessly, she dutifully retreated alongside Charles. The move was almost like an army retreating from the outer edges of a defensive position to an inner layer. Now, instead of trying to defend the entire base camp along with supporting Team Fishermen, Charles and Betsy defended only the conscious minds that were still active in the center of the camp.

These minds included Clea, Freya, Sif, Hogun, only two of Freya's strongest handmaidens, the heavy troopers stationed high above them on their magic carpets, and the remaining Custodes. Of this final defensive front, only Clea and Tony could defend themselves from psychic assault.

When Jean fell hardly five minutes after Charles and Betsy had retreated, the Shadows plowed on, instantly flooding the minds of the Einherjar with an immersive illusion that told them they were not, in fact, in a camp at all but actually attacking an enemy fortress. From one moment to the next, the central camp was no longer the location they had to defend. Rather, it was and always had been the target of their assault.

Yet even yoked by the Shadows, the human jarls kept a firm rein on their folk. Soon arrows were flying up to the Valkyries and the carpets over the camp. These same men also started to shout and demand some measure of order from the men racing to assault the palisade. The Einherjar eagerly responded, spreading out to encircle the palisade and attack from all sides instead of bunched up at the front gate.

Sif grimaced, staring at friends and acquaintances alike as they charged toward her portion of the palisade with blood in their eyes. She fingered the hilt of her sword, shaking her head. "It would sit ill with me if I were forced to strike these men down so ensorcelled."

"Then don't use your blade," Hogun grunted, holding up a large club. It wasn't his war mace, to be sure, just a simple wooden shaft about as long as his forearm wrapped with leather. "Use one of these. Smack them over the head, knock them out. Swing harder at the Asgardians rather than the Asatru. Simple."

Above, the Heavy Gunners began to fire their knockout rounds, angling the mortars as if they were a line-of-sight-weapon. The Heavy Gunners' rounds went off among them, ball lightning exploding everywhere. The cylinders resembled old-fashioned canister rounds from the Napoleonic era but acted almost like a taser had somehow been set to 'storm'. Hundreds, then thousands of the Asgardians and warrior spirits succumbed. Unfortunately, more than half of the Asgardians so struck could throw off either the attack from the two magic users or the attack from the Heavy Gunners.

In reply, the spears and arrows of the Asgardians among the ensorcelled Einherjar were no real threat to the soldiers upon their magic carpets, too high for most to ever hope to reach. A few did manage, however, and more than one of the Heavy Gunners cursed in worry as an arrow smacked into them, smacking them off of their feet, and were only saved by the fact that distance robbed the successful arrows of any penetrative power.

One unlucky ODM even took an arrow through the visor, having leaned out over the side of his magic carpet to fire another mortar. "The hell!" The operator gasped, staring at the arrowhead embedded in his visor, about half an inch away from skewering his eye. Breaking the shaft, he rolled back onto the center portion of the carpet, shaking his head in shock. "I don't know what's worse guys, being hit by an arrow of all things and watching it crack your visor or being hit by an arrow in the first place."

Protected from the Shadows, Clea, Amora, and Banshee went to work attacking the mentally enslaved Einherjar. The most dangerous of the trio. Clea hammered regiments of the attacking warriors with stunning spells so powerful that it seemed as if a small tornado had just appeared, hurling people around through the sheer impact even as the magic of the attack knocked them out.

Meanwhile, Banshee concentrated on the areas around the palisade's two entrances, paralyzing his targets to the point of uselessness or straight up knocking them out with the concussive force of his scream. Unlike the Heavy Gunner's knockout-style ordinance, Banshee's assaults targeting their ears were, while smaller in scope, extremely effective against both humans and Asgardians. The same could be said for Tony's repulsor strikes, as looked for anyone giving orders, knocking out specific commanders among the Einherjar.

In contrast to the other's more straightforward attacks, Amora used her magic on various places around the wall. Sticking spells, spells to transfigure clothing and the ground were liberally thrown around, looking to impede rather than incapacitate. She was so successful that several sections of the camp soon became so congested the ensorcelled attackers couldn't get through their own comrades.

But for all these efforts, there were a lot of attackers, and the defenders couldn't be everywhere. Eventually, ensorcelled warriors began to reach the palisade, throwing up grapnels and pulling themselves up to the nearly undefended battlements. There, they faced Freya, Sif, Hogun, and surprisingly, Amara. All present were armed with clubs, or a staff in Amara's case, although the Asgardians looked at her askance.

The Neo-Grecian did not back down, nodding over to Dr. Druid, Uzume and Nightcrawler. The older magic-user looked resigned as well as not entirely recovered from his earlier exertions. "Defend the wall. If we have to pull back, or if they start to spread out too much and Amora's magic starts to fail us, we retreat to the tent with Jean and the other telepaths. No way am I letting Jean or Emma get their heads caved in on my watch. Harry would turn as all inside out."