The vast torrential energy beam engulfed the Dark Elves' massive warship...
Despite the commander activating the energy shield at the first moment, the vessel still swayed unsteadily in the air like a kite with its string cut.
The dazzling pillar of light illuminated the night sky. The fierce and relentless barrage of firepower left the Dark Elves scrambling to defend themselves.
The hemispherical defensive shield was subjected to continuous high-intensity bombardment as waves of advanced fighter jets swarmed in from all directions, unleashing a storm of explosions. Blinding flashes pierced the heavens, accompanied by thunderous roars.
Had it not been for the battlefield being located in Manhattan, the most prosperous district of New York, S.H.I.E.L.D. would have long considered employing more extreme measures, such as orbital beam weapons, high-energy particle rays, or electromagnetic cannons...
Violent energy fluctuations tore through the thick clouds, the beams resembling piranhas slowly and methodically tearing chunks of flesh from the colossal black warship.
The Dark Elves could only activate their energy shields at maximum capacity. A massive shadow loomed over the sky as another Helicarrier descended, its invisible force field enveloping the area and creating a chaotic gravitational field.
The black warship's exposed menacing cannons fired beams that twisted and distorted mid-air, losing their intended trajectory and haphazardly piercing through the skyscrapers below. A deluge of bricks and rubble rained down.
Fortunately, the New York Police Department had already evacuated the area, and the White House had simultaneously activated a city-wide Level 1 alert. The President watched nervously from an underground nuclear bunker.
Malekith's understanding of Earth was still stuck in the primitive backward world of ten thousand years ago. He believed the people of Midgard remained in an age of ignorance and posed no threat whatsoever.
Thus, he had arrived in the heart of the city aboard a small destroyer. Accompanied by the Kursed, he sought for the Aether without giving Earth's military power a second thought.
Soon, the Dark Elves would pay the price for their leader's arrogance...
Meanwhile, Malekith encountered a problem of his own. The Aether, which had been emitting faint fluctuations, suddenly vanished without a trace. The signal was completely severed, leaving no detectable presence behind.
The abrupt change threw the Dark Elf leader into panic. Without this ultimate weapon that was capable of warping reality, how could he exact vengeance upon Asgard?
Only power granted the right to speak.
After the great war ten thousand years ago, the Dark Elves had been crippled, and their forces nearly annihilated, leaving only a handful of survivors. In contrast, Asgard had flourished, rising as the guardian of the Nine Realms.
Given this disparity, even with their awakening, the Dark Elves stood no chance against Asgard in direct confrontation. They needed shortcuts and schemes.
In the original timeline, the Dark Elves had infiltrated Asgard, and used the Kursed's immense power to wreak havoc in the realm of the gods. They freed prisoners and launched a lightning-fast assault on the palace, killing Queen Frigga and nearly abducting Jane Foster, the Aether's host.
But under the fluttering of the butterfly's wings, the trajectory of time had shifted. Sean had taken the Aether, awakened the Dark Elves, and Malekith had chosen to avoid Asgard's might, heading straight for Midgard.
Now directionless, Malekith floundered like a headless fly.
At the same time, a figure descended from the sky. The figure was tall and imposing, clad in ornate armor, wielding a metal hammer, and his red cape billowed majestically in the wind like a hero straight out of an epic tale.
He stood directly in Malekith's path, blocking the Dark Elf leader's advance.
"Stop where you are and return to your dark abyss," Thor growled.
He had heard tales of the Dark Elves since childhood but never imagined remnants still survived. In the songs of his grandfather Bor's reign, Svartalfheim had been reduced to ruins by the wrath of the gods, and the Dark Elves, who sought to plunge the Nine Realms into chaos, had been utterly annihilated in that cataclysmic war...
...
Back in Asgard, Odin sat firmly on his throne, his eyes gleaming...
He saw this as a perfect opportunity. Midgard under siege by a formidable enemy, only to be saved by his eldest son, emerging as the valiant hero who turned the tide, just as Asgard had protected the Nine Realms millennia ago.
Odin wanted the people of Midgard to witness Thor's bravery and might, reinforcing Asgard's dominance in future dealings while bolstering Thor's claim to the throne.
A win-win situation...
...
"Damn Asgardians!" Malekith's eyes burned with hatred.
Since the war ten thousand years ago, the Dark Elves and Asgard had been mortal enemies!
Compared to the Frost Giants of Jotunheim, the Dark Elves' grudge ran deeper. Svartalfheim had been scorched to ashes, their homeland reduced to wasteland, forcing them into exile like rats in the sewers.
This blood debt could never be washed away, even with the rivers of all Nine Realms.
Malekith would never forget leading his surviving kin to escape the battlefield, hiding and slumbering in the lightless fringes of the cosmos. Had it not been for the Aether's energy rousing him, they might have slept forever.
"The Dark Elves are no more. You are nothing but cowards, hiding and clinging to life!" Thor swung Mjolnir, his disgust for these chaos-worshipping creatures of the abyss evident.
"Kursed, deal with him!" Malekith commanded, "Let his head be the first payment for Asgard's blood debt."
He stepped back and closed his eyes, then desperately called for the Aether, hoping for a response.
Thor sneered, swinging Mjolnir and instantly altering the atmosphere. Dark clouds gathered, lightning crackled, and immense power surged in his grasp.
With a mighty throw, the indestructible hammer shot forth like a thunderous dragon, tearing through the air with a deafening roar, wreathed in blinding lightning!
The Kursed, clad in his fearsome helmet, stepped forward with a roar as his body erupted in molten flames. The dark red crystal embedded within granted him boundless strength, unlocking his full potential. Until his life force burned out, few could stand against him.
*BOOM!*
The Kursed backhanded Asgard's divine weapon away. The collision between his arm and Mjolnir produced a deafening metallic clang, sending shockwaves rippling through the air like a hurricane!
The streets near Brooklyn were ravaged as if struck by a Category 12 typhoon. Car windows shattered, and street lamps were ripped from the ground.
The hammer rebounded violently, striking its wielder with a heavy thud, sending Thor flying backward like a ragdoll. He crashed through a building in a cloud of dust and debris.
"Pathetic Asgardian," the Kursed growled, his voice sounding like grinding stone...