The Aether—why was it here?
Thor and Loki exchanged glances. Their "cry for help" plan was instantly abandoned.
"Loki!" Thor shouted.
Loki immediately dispelled the illusion; Thor's severed arm reappeared, whole. He summoned Mjolnir and unleashed a bolt of lightning.
The falling bottle, guided by Malekith, shattered midair. The Aether surged toward him.
Thor's lightning struck at the last possible moment—meant as an ambush, now only a desperate attempt to destroy the Aether. But he underestimated its power. The lightning couldn't stop it. The Aether merged with Malekith, its energy flooding into him.
Malekith's form twisted, his pale face turning ashen. He glanced at Thor and Loki, signaling the Kursed warrior. Dark Elf soldiers closed in to block the brothers, while Malekith sensed another source of Aether's power—but this was enough for now. The Convergence was the perfect moment to unleash the Aether's full might. Malekith turned and left.
Thor fought to stop him, smashing aside Dark Elf soldiers with every swing of his hammer. But when he faced the Kursed warrior, Mjolnir was knocked away, and Thor was sent flying by a brutal punch.
The hoofbeats of the Wild Hunt faded. Malekith boarded his ship and departed. Thor, pinned by the Kursed warrior, could only watch Malekith escape. Loki was still tangled with Dark Elf soldiers.
For the first time, Thor was severely beaten—Mjolnir lost, his body pinned and pummeled, his face bloodied. He could do nothing as Malekith vanished into the sky.
After Loki dispatched the last of the Dark Elves, he saw his brother's battered state. His eyes flickered with emotion, and he rushed to help.
As the Kursed warrior raised his fist for another blow, a blade suddenly pierced his chest. He turned; Loki stood behind him.
But the wound wasn't fatal. The Kursed warrior seized Loki and, with his own blade, stabbed him through the chest.
"No!" Thor's anguished cry echoed across the barren land.
Loki's face went pale, but he stared at the Kursed warrior. "See you in hell, demon." A beeping sound started. The Kursed warrior realized too late that a collapse bomb had been activated on his belt. He couldn't throw it away in time—it exploded, tearing him apart and erasing him from existence.
Thor rushed to Loki's side, but it was too late. He watched his brother die—again. Thor howled in grief, blaming himself for everything that had gone wrong.
Jane stood nearby, remembering she'd just slapped Loki. The mood was somber and heavy.
Thor had to stop Malekith, but he could only leave Loki's body behind. With the Bifrost gone, they needed another way back. The two left, hearts heavy.
Meanwhile, John had chosen a third option: instead of sneaking off to siphon energy from the Tesseract, he found himself facing a corpse—or rather, someone pretending to be dead.
He poked Loki's face with his wand, impatiently. "Enough."
Loki finally sat up, the "death" draining from his features. He glared at John, confused and aggrieved. "Why are you here?"
"It's quite a coincidence," John said, raising an eyebrow. "I marked this place once, and just so happened, someone went to Asgard to steal the Aether, and I just happened to be able to come to Svartalfheim."
He'd marked the Aether's location and used the Tesseract to travel here. That's right—the Tesseract. He'd gone to Asgard's vault and siphoned off some energy. John grinned at Loki, making him shudder.
John pulled out the Tesseract. "Funny, I just happened to pick this up. Why don't you take it back?"
Loki stared, speechless. "Why should I go back?"
"You will," John said indifferently. "You have nowhere else to go."
While Thor was getting beaten up, John was siphoning energy. Asgard probably didn't even know the Tesseract had been taken. If Loki didn't go back, John would have to return it himself.
John tapped Loki's chest with his wand. "By the way, you can answer some questions for me—about the Casket of Ancient Winters."
He'd regretted not getting Loki's blood before, but now the opportunity had come. Loki had no choice but to give in—John collected a vial of his blood.
…
London
A suited agent asked his superior, "Should we keep waiting?"
"That area's situation hasn't changed," the superior replied. "There have also been incidents in Greenwich."
"I thought there were supposed to be professionals?" the agent scoffed. "That person's been missing for days."
"Correction—not missing," said a voice behind him.
Startled, the agent turned, drawing his weapon, only to find a wand pressed to his waist.
"Contact Mycroft. Tell him there's work to do," John said, dusting off his clothes. The agent had no idea how John had arrived.
"Tried a new method, don't mind me," John said casually. "There's about to be a crisis here like the one in New York. I suggest you notify Mycroft quickly."
A New York-level event? The agent didn't dare delay and immediately contacted his superior to request a call with Mycroft.
John was using a repair spell on a phone. The pieces reassembled, but there was still no signal.
"Dimensional magic side effects," John frowned. Communication devices were disrupted; he'd have to rebuild the channel himself.
He wasn't exaggerating—Malekith would want to maximize the Aether's power, which meant releasing it at the center of the Convergence. Earth, with its special position among the Nine Realms, was the most suitable place. The Convergence would be complete by daylight.
Mycroft was soon on the line.
"Tell me about this so-called crisis," Mycroft got straight to the point.
John raised an eyebrow. "Why not talk about the Miracle Children first?"
"I'm not joking," Mycroft said seriously.
"Of course," John smiled. "Neither am I."
Mycroft was silent for a while. "Governments are secretly cultivating them. Even if they don't show it, with the age of superheroes, they need their own to reassure the public."
"Miracle Children is my initiative," Mycroft said calmly. "A superhuman alliance I created."
"Like the Avengers," John chuckled. "Your chance has come."
"A crisis like New York is about to happen."
"Listen," Mycroft said, headache evident, "we don't have all our candidates yet."
"I know. So this time, let a real miracle appear."
John's voice came through the phone to Mycroft.
"It's time for wizards to step into the public eye."
Nothing creates heroes like a crisis.
Let the wizards become the heroes of ordinary people.
British Ministry of Magic, UK Branch.
A red-haired Auror looked worried; the female Minister was on the verge of tears. Their friend had gone missing while investigating the London incident.
What had happened to that legendary Auror?
[Chapter Complete]
***
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