In the vast tapestry of the Nine Realms, the dark elves had never stood at the very top.
They were dangerous, yes, but far from the mightiest. Even the Giants of Jotunheim, with their brutal strength and icy heritage, stood a tier above them.
For the dark elves, their true terror had always come from something else, an abomination of their own making, the Kursed.
Those warriors, forged at an unbearable cost, were living weapons, hulking monsters whose strength dwarfed anything born naturally. They had no refined sorcery or divine gifts, yet their hardened bodies alone radiated a crushing aura that could overwhelm armies.
But those horrors belonged to the past. Most had been obliterated in the ancient war against Asgard. The last of them, created with the last kursed stone, had fallen in the recent siege of the Golden Realm.
Now, Malekith had no such army. The dark elves that remained were little more than shadows, foot soldiers to be thrown away as distractions, little better than fodder. And so he fought alone.
The only reason he had not already been torn to pieces was because he had bound himself with the Aether, the weapon of primordial darkness. It wrapped around him like living smoke, a shroud of shifting crimson that pulsed with ancient power. Even so, it was only just enough to keep him from being instantly ripped apart by the three monstrous dogs circling him.
Yet despite the Aether's protection, Malekith was already staggering. Each exchange brought him closer to death.
…
Luke finally arrived at the edge of the battlefield. The ground shook faintly under the snarling charges of the dogs, dust rising in choking clouds where the soil split from their weight.
Thor stood nearby, watching. His golden hair was disheveled, his cape streaked with soot. When he noticed Luke's approach, his expression shifted strangely, caught somewhere between recognition, irritation, and unease.
"Hey, Thor," Luke called casually, lips curling into a faint smile. "Aren't you going to say hello? We're both Avengers, after all. We could be considered friends."
Thor stiffened, his brows pulling together. The words landed heavier than Luke intended. Friends? By strict definition, they were allies, comrades in the same war. But friendship? He could not call it that.
There was something about Luke, something deeply unsettling. It wasn't just power, as he didn't seem that strong. It was the strangeness, the unknowable quality that made Thor, Prince of Asgard, instinctively wary. Even Mjolnir's replacement, his newly forged Stormbreaker, did little to calm him in Luke's presence.
"What do you want to do?" Thor asked at last, voice low, eyes narrowing. Almost unconsciously, he took two steps back, keeping distance between them.
Luke's smile thinned. Really? Am I that terrifying?
He exhaled, folding his arms across his chest. "Forget it. No need to get so worked up. Let's just watch the fight." He turned his eyes back to the battlefield.
…
The fight itself was brutally straightforward.
Malekith lashed out with the Aether, waves of shadowy energy distorting the air, wrapping around the snapping jaws of the monstrous hounds. Yet the attacks, while destructive against weaker beings, were clumsy against predators like these. Doggo, now fused with the symbiote, shrugged off the darkness like it was mist.
Luke's eyes narrowed as he watched one of the dogs clamp its teeth down on Malekith's arm.
Crunch.
The limb was torn free in an instant, scattering fragments of bone and glowing wisps of Aether. Malekith howled, staggering back, but the reprieve was brief. The other two hounds lunged almost simultaneously, one snapping at his legs, the other at his side.
Even wrapped in the Aether's dark glow, the damage was too much.
Despair flickered across Malekith's face. He had waged war across realms, waited for the perfect moment thousands of years, and yet here, in the weakest of the Nine Realms, he had been undone.
Crack!
His leg went next, then the other. Then another arm, all devoured hungrily. His screams choked into ragged breaths, his eyes wide as the dogs circled him again, jaws slick with blood.
From the corner of his vision, Luke noticed Thor shift. The Asgardian's hand twitched forward as if to intervene, as if to call out a "Wait!" His lips even parted, but no sound came.
Luke tilted his head, amused. "What's wrong? Something to say?"
Thor's hand hovered in the air, fingers trembling. He wanted to demand the Aether back, to keep it safe back in Asgard. But then his gaze flicked to Luke, and the words died. Slowly, almost guiltily, he lowered his hand and turned away.
If Asgard could not reclaim the Aether here, then perhaps it was fate. And truthfully, Thor had no wish to wrestle power from Luke, not now. He would return to Asgard, help rebuild the palace, and let this matter lie. Some battles were better left unfought.
…
On the battlefield, Malekith gave one final cry. Then, with terrible synchronicity, all three hounds struck. Their jaws tore into him from three directions, splitting his body apart and swallowing the fragments whole.
A pulse of red light flared violently, washing over the ground in an ominous wave. Then silence.
The hounds' bodies flickered with crimson energy, glowing veins spiderwebbing across their skin. After a few tense seconds, the glow dimmed, fading back into the shadows of their monstrous forms.
In Luke's mind, the familiar chime rang:
[Ding~ Congratulations to the host for in-depth participation in the core plot of the Marvel world: "Malekith descends on Earth." Reward: 5 plot points.]
Luke's lips curved upward. With the points he had already gathered in Asgard, he now possessed 16 in total. A satisfying harvest indeed.
…
But Doggo's excitement soon overshadowed his own. The hound licked its maw with almost boyish delight, savoring the aftertaste of a meal unlike any it had ever known.
Then it turned toward Luke.
And Luke froze.
Doggo's eyes now burned with a deep, ominous red. The same shade as the Aether itself.
Luke's heart sank. So that's why Thor hesitated.
The realization hit him instantly. By devouring Malekith, Doggo had also devoured the Aether. It now lived inside him. He was its new host.
"This is bad," Luke muttered under his breath. The Aether granted immense power, yes, but at a cost. It drained the vitality of its vessel, consuming as much as it empowered.
"Bumblebee," Luke called sharply into his communicator.
Almost immediately, a shadow descended from the sky. The Camaro transformed midair, thrusters roaring as Bumblebee landed nearby in a storm of dust.
Without hesitation, Luke guided Doggo aboard the car. His gaze lingered on those crimson eyes, glowing faintly even as the hound wagged its tail.
"Hang on, boy," Luke whispered. "I'm not letting that thing take you."
And with that, the two of them lifted off, leaving the battlefield behind.
…