The flames spread across Niflheim's cursed landscape like a living entity with insatiable hunger. Thousands of withered forests ignited simultaneously, their skeletal branches becoming torches that painted the perpetual twilight in shades of orange and gold. Even the air itself seemed to combust spontaneously, each breath carrying the sensation of swallowing molten acid that seared throat and lungs with supernatural intensity.
The angry flames roared and danced, their brilliant light banishing shadows that had persisted for millennia. Everything touched by the fire transformed into black ash, falling from the smoke-choked sky like heavy snow in reverse—death returning to death, but purified through flame.
Niflheim's undead armies burned to ash in the inferno, only to be reborn moments later through the realm's necromantic properties, creating an endless cycle of destruction and resurrection. The very landscape screamed as supernatural fire consumed matter that had existed since the realm's creation.
But Hela and Hodr—two of Odin's children, wielders of divine power, lords of death itself—found themselves helpless as children being lifted by their throats, suspended in the air by a giant's immense four-armed grip.
Ben had transformed again into Four Arms.
As a Tetramand who had reached the absolute pinnacle of physical might, enhanced by space experiences and dimensional energy, Ben's strength had become godlike in its magnitude. The Old Power roared in his blood like an awakened dragon, space forces flowing through alien muscle fiber and bone. Even competing directly with Odin or Thanos in raw physical power, he would emerge victorious.
Hela and Hodr struggled helplessly in his grip, their divine status reduced to irrelevance by overwhelming superiority.
SLAM!
Ben bent his massive legs, then drove both siblings directly into Niflheim's cursed earth with earth-shaking force.
BOOM!
The impact exploded outward like a detonating star. Air itself became a weapon as hurricane-force winds erupted from the collision point, strong enough to overturn oceans and extinguish the raging fires that had consumed half the realm. The ground didn't merely crack—it shattered completely, the impact force spreading like earthquake epicenters, releasing destruction capable of ending worlds.
The entire realm of Niflheim trembled under the assault, its fundamental structure pushed beyond the breaking point.
Fissures spread in every direction as the devastating force propagated to every corner of the death-realm. Ancient mountains that had stood since creation began collapsing, their peaks tumbling into newly formed abysses. The gray Sea of Death receded, exposing charred bedrock that had never seen light. Niflheim itself seemed on the verge of complete dissolution.
Ben released the unconscious forms of Hela and Hodr, letting them fall to the cracked earth like discarded dolls. Both Crown of Death fragments came free easily—Hela's elaborate headpiece and Hodr's simpler circlet, their dark power now dormant without conscious wielders.
Immediately, Hela's controlled undead began dissipating like smoke, their animating force severed by her unconsciousness.
"This world is actually going to be destroyed?!" Wanda stared at the apocalyptic devastation with genuine terror in her voice.
She had witnessed Ben's power before, but never applied with such totality. The casual ease with which he had brought a realm to the brink of annihilation was both awe-inspiring and deeply unsettling.
"Nothing surprising," Ben replied with characteristic nonchalance, his Four Arms form radiating residual heat from the battle. "Niflheim isn't particularly large by space standards."
This is the reason why he changed to Four-Arm, using the power of Ultimate Heatblast might actually destroy the world instantly.
It wasn't arrogance—simply fact. Jotunheim had suffered similar treatment during their previous encounter, its thousand-year-old glaciers reduced to powder and arranged like a white desert of sand. As someone who had absorbed the Eternal Flame, just as Surtur could destroy Asgard after his resurrection, Ben possessed the power to unmake entire realms.
But destruction without purpose served no one.
"Ultimate Gravattack."
Green light flashed as Ben transformed again. The massive gravity-manipulating alien appeared in his ultimate state, rocky hide gleaming with embedded stellar matter. In his planet-sized palms, emerald gravitational waves pulsed with space authority.
He clenched his hands, and Niflheim's torn landscape responded immediately to his will. Gravitational force pulled the shattered earth back together with irresistible strength, sealing the terrible abysses like closing mouths. Mountains reformed from their scattered debris, while the retreated Sea of Death began flowing back into its proper boundaries.
The realm still shuddered with aftershocks—earthquakes that would continue for days as Niflheim's structure settled into its restored configuration. But the immediate threat of total dissolution had passed.
While maintaining gravitational control, Ben produced the Space Stone and created a crystalline prison cube around the unconscious siblings. The space artifact responded to his will, generating unbreakable barriers that existed in folded space-time.
Though Odin hadn't specifically requested Hodr's capture, shepherding one sheep was as easy as shepherding two. Ben decided to perform a good deed by bringing the God of Darkness back to the Plumbers for proper rehabilitation.
Without their Crown fragments, both siblings represented minimal threat—their power levels had dropped to approximately sheriff-class rather than space entities.
"We have two Crowns of Death now," Wanda observed, studying the artifacts Ben had collected. "What should we do with the extra one?"
Their original mission had focused solely on Niflheim's Crown, but capturing Hela had provided an unexpected bonus. Ben saw no reason to leave Helheim's Crown unclaimed, but the practical problem remained—he only had one Ghostfreak transformation.
"Combine them, obviously," Ben replied as though the solution was self-evident.
The Crown of Death from Niflheim could be separated into fragments, so logically it could be merged with other death-based artifacts. Both Crowns drew power from the same fundamental source—dominion over death itself. Uniting them would simply return that authority to its proper wholeness.
"From today forward, Helheim and Niflheim will merge into a single realm," Ben declared with quiet authority. "They'll remain separate hells accepting different categories of souls, but they'll serve under unified leadership."
The Crown fragments began floating upward as he spoke, drawn together by supernatural magnetism. The two artifacts touched, then began melting together like black iron in a forge, their separate authorities becoming one. Flames wreathed the fusion process as space forces reshaped divine artifacts.
When the process completed, a single Crown emerged—visually similar to its predecessors but with denser thorns creating a more intricate and ominous design.
The power of death had become unified for the first time since the realms' creation.
"Double the death should equal significantly more power," Ben mused, examining his handiwork.
He had always felt somewhat dissatisfied with the Crown's limitations. Hela's abilities fell short of Odin's might, and she couldn't defeat Surtur even with the Crown's full power. This suggested the artifact represented merely a fragment of death's true authority rather than its totality.
Real Death—one of the fundamental space entities—controlled the root principles of mortality throughout the universe. That was power on a completely different scale. The merged Crown still fell far short of such space authority, but it represented a significant step forward.
Even death throughout the Nine Realms wasn't completely under the Crown's dominion. Earth, for instance, maintained its own separate underworld systems.
However, with doubled power, the enhancement provided to Ghostfreak would be substantial. Even if it couldn't match Ultimate Heatblast's space-level abilities, the improvement would represent a qualitative leap into true god-tier capabilities.
"Time to don the Crown and transform into Ghostfreak," Ben announced, preparing for the final stage of their mission. "I'll absorb the Crown's full authority permanently."
He placed the merged Crown on his head without ceremony. Death power immediately began flowing through his bloodstream, spreading to every corner of his enhanced physiology. The sensation was like ice water replacing blood—cold, alien, but undeniably potent.
The Omnitrix activated automatically, green light beginning to envelope his form as the transformation sequence initiated.
But before the light could fade completely, Ben had already begun absorbing the Crown's power directly into his alien DNA structure. Thick black death-energy wrapped around his body like parasitic vines, cocooning him in supernatural darkness within seconds.
Wanda blinked in confusion, studying the transformation with growing puzzlement.
"If I saw correctly, that wasn't Ghostfreak," she said slowly. "That looked like... Swampfire?"
Inside the dark cocoon, Ben could sense his current form's capabilities and knew exactly which alien he had become. This definitely wasn't Ghostfreak—it was indeed his Methanosian transformation, enhanced and modified beyond recognition.
But the transformation sequence had locked into place. Death-energy thorns pierced the cocoon's interior, continuously injecting power into Swampfire's plant-based biology. He couldn't revert until the process completed.
Poor Ghostfreak, Ben thought with wry amusement. Getting his power-up stolen by Swampfire of all aliens.
The Omnitrix's voice echoed inside his consciousness:
[Methanosian Immortal genes and Flora Colossus genetic fusion complete: Swampfire Flora Colossus hybrid transformation successful]
The explanation clicked into place immediately. The timing was suspiciously coincidental—just as Ben attempted to absorb death power, Swampfire's genetic integration had reached completion and triggered automatic transformation. The odds of such perfect timing suggested intentional intervention.
"My Omnitrix doesn't usually malfunction during transformations," Ben mused as power flowed through alien plant fibers.
His first transformation error had occurred during the battle in Sakaar. He had intended Heatblast but received Diamondhead instead—which proved perfect for that particular opponent. The second and third errors had both involved attempts to become Ghostfreak, resulting in Swampfire transformations instead.
Rather than actual malfunctions, the pattern suggested the Omnitrix's artificial intelligence was making tactical decisions. The monster in Sakaar had been immune to heat but vulnerable to crystal attacks. Niflheim's tree spirits had proven naturally subservient to Swampfire's plant-based authority.
Perhaps this transformation represented another calculated choice. Maybe the Omnitrix's intelligence had determined that death power wasn't suitable for Ghostfreak's consciousness, or that the Ectonurite form carried hidden dangers that made enhancement inadvisable.
"Loss of control," Ben realized suddenly.
Ghostfreak's storyline in his original universe had featured extensive periods where the alien consciousness had overwhelmed Ben's mind, even managing to defeat Vilgax and rule the Chimera Sui Generis homeworld. The experience had left Ben afraid to transform into Ghostfreak for extended periods.
While Marvel's power levels made such concerns relatively minor, Ben preferred to avoid unnecessary risks when possible. Preventing potential loss of control was worth the inconvenience of using an alternate transformation.
"I should probably design a proper restraint system first," he decided. "Something like the chains from the second-generation Ghostfreak design."
Those mystical chains could suppress the alien consciousness completely, ensuring Ben's personality remained dominant. With death power amplifying supernatural abilities, such restraints would become even more effective.
But Swampfire would serve admirably as the Crown's recipient. The timing might have been unexpected, but the result was actually quite favorable. Swampfire's enhanced form had integrated Flora Colossus genetics, making it incredibly powerful even before death-power absorption.
Swamps existed at the intersection of life and death—making them perfect conduits for both forces.
Soon, the black cocoon began cracking as transformation neared completion.
The renewed Swampfire emerged into Niflheim's restored twilight.
Wanda covered her mouth and stepped backward, her expression mixing horror with amazement at Ben's transformed appearance.
His height had increased by approximately half a meter, with his previously lean plant-based physiology becoming substantially more robust and intimidating. The soft vine texture had hardened into something resembling armored bark, while his overall mass had doubled.
The original Methanosian form was essentially herbaceous—flexible plant matter optimized for regeneration and gas manipulation. But integrating Groot's Flora Colossus genetics had begun transforming him into something tree-like, with corresponding increases in durability and raw power. The addition of death-energy had completed this evolution.
The Crown of Death hadn't withered or been consumed—instead, it had grown into Ben's transformed skull, becoming a terrible branch-like extension of his enhanced plant biology.
"Reminds me of Ultimate Swampfire," Ben observed, his voice now carrying woody resonance. "But more streamlined, without all those bulky blue growths."
The power flowing through his enhanced form was remarkable. The merged Crown's authority equaled the improvement that the Eternal Flame had provided to Heatblast, while the Flora Colossus integration offered tremendous growth potential that remained largely untapped.
He hadn't even explored flowering forms or the full extent of what Flora Colossus genetics could provide. The species' growth potential was virtually unlimited—which explained why space entities had been required to contain their expansion across the galaxy.
"Excellent. Time to return to headquarters," Ben announced, satisfied with their mission's success.
They had claimed the Crown of Death, captured Hela and Hodr, and gained a significantly enhanced alien transformation. The Space Stone opened a portal back to Sakaar, their work in Niflheim finally complete.
Plumbers Headquarters - Sakaar
Chaos had erupted across the planet for the second time since its transformation from junkyard world to galactic power center.
The last major crisis had been Thanos's direct assault, which led to Ben using the Space Stone to shift Sakaar into a dimensional pocket. From outside observation, the planet appeared unchanged, but it actually existed in a separate reality layer for enhanced security.
This time, the threat originated from within.
Massive electrical currents had paralyzed an entire city district. Terrible sparks erupted in chain reactions while electrical charges gathered millions of lightning bolts together, forming the vague outline of a female figure composed entirely of energy.
"Evacuation procedures are still in progress," Nebula reported grimly as she approached the observation deck.
Caiera stood beside her, golden features marred by concern and fresh battle-damage. Despite her mastery of the Old Power, she had been unable to subdue the energy entity. Her attempt to engage directly had resulted in injury and the creature's escape to a more populated area.
The only fortunate aspect was that the entity's initial manifestation had occurred far from major population centers. While property damage was extensive, casualties remained relatively light.
The problem was identification.
"What exactly are we dealing with?" Caiera asked, her wound slowly healing through Old Power regeneration.
"The Mother of Storms," Brunnhilde replied, having donned her full silver armor and crimson cape. Dragonfang gleamed in her grip, its enchanted blade ready for divine combat. Her emerald eyes reflected the terrible energy breeding within the supernatural tempest.
Between heaven and earth, nothing seemed to exist except the elemental fury of the storm itself.
"The Mother of Storms?" Nebula frowned, running tactical calculations through her cybernetic enhancements.
"A legendary entity that Odin supposedly sealed within Mjolnir during the hammer's creation," Brunnhilde explained grimly. "The Mother of Storms is a primordial force—the divine tempest that no god has ever successfully tamed. I always assumed it was a legend, but clearly I was wrong."
She gestured toward the growing electrical maelstrom. "The power that Mjolnir grants its wielder was never Thor's own lightning—it was the Mother of Storms' authority, channeled and constrained through Asgardian enchantments."
That revelation recontextualized everything about Mjolnir's abilities. Thor's lightning wasn't divine inheritance—it was borrowed power from an imprisoned space entity.
"When Hela shattered Mjolnir, the Mother of Storms must have escaped its bindings," Brunnhilde continued. "We have to stop her, or Sakaar itself will be destroyed."
The confession carried weight because Brunnhilde rarely admitted uncertainty. She had no guarantee of victory against such a primordial force, but in King Sakaar's absence, the sheriffs bore responsibility for planetary defense.
Caiera nodded acknowledgment and transferred command authority to Nebula. "Coordinate evacuation efforts and emergency response. Brunnhilde and I will engage directly."
Both women mounted winged Pegasus steeds, their forms silhouetted against the growing storm as they flew toward the chaotic epicenter.
"All Plumber agents and support personnel, implement emergency protocols immediately," Nebula commanded through planetary communications. "Accelerate civilian evacuation from affected zones. Activate energy containment shields to restrict the Mother of Storms to a defined perimeter. Deploy power absorption arrays to drain excess energy from the storm system."
As Thanos's former daughter, military command came naturally to Nebula. She had participated in countless planetary conquest campaigns, gaining extensive experience in crisis management and large-scale tactical coordination.
"Also, activate the Wildebot arsenal," she added after a moment's consideration.
The massive combat machines were remnants from the Red King's tyrannical reign, but Ben had inherited and extensively upgraded them. They now served as Sakaar's primary automated defense force, capable of engaging threats that would destroy conventional military units.
Nebula harbored no illusions about the Wildebots' chances against the Mother of Storms. But ordinary Plumber agents would die instantly upon direct contact with such elemental fury. Caiera and Brunnhilde would need every advantage available, even if it only provided momentary distraction.
Observing the organized chaos from his concealed position, Malekith finally allowed himself a satisfied smile.
He had orchestrated the Mother of Storms' release personally.
With Sakaar's entire defense force focused on the elemental crisis, no one would notice a single intruder breaking into Ben Parker's private offices.
The greatest prize of all awaited his claim.