Clara searched the Royal Archives for a long time, yet failed to find any records related to the strange sensations triggered by those few mysterious objects she had encountered.
On second thought, it made sense.
Aside from the Tesseract, even the names of the other artifacts were unknown. And the term Tesseract itself was merely a Midgardian designation—what other realms called it was anyone's guess.
Still, her efforts weren't entirely in vain.
From a dusty corner, Clara unearthed a thin book about civilizations beyond the Nine Realms.
There was no date written anywhere, making its age impossible to determine. The pages appeared to be made from some kind of animal hide—light yet resilient. Though yellowed with time, they crackled crisply when turned.
The book was barely ten pages long, more like a personal manuscript or field notes. It detailed the appearances and habits of various extragalactic races, complete with hand-drawn illustrations. The artwork was surprisingly refined.
Just as Clara prepared to read it carefully, a sudden uproar erupted outside the archive.
Shouts rang out. Guards sprinted toward the front hall in large numbers.
Something serious had happened.
Malekith, leader of the Dark Elves, had devised a meticulous plan to infiltrate Asgard.
One Dark Elf disguised himself as a rioter and deliberately allowed himself to be captured by Asgardian soldiers, who then imprisoned him in the Great Prison of Asgard.
Once inside, he triggered a massive prison riot.
As Asgard's forces rushed to suppress the chaos, the Dark Elves struck—sabotaging the palace's defensive control systems.
And then—
Their warships could advance without resistance.
Malekith's true objective was never to conquer Asgard itself.
It was to reclaim the Aether.
He could sense its approximate location—
within the royal palace of Asgard.
Once the Aether was in his grasp, Malekith planned to use it in conjunction with the Convergence, plunging all Nine Realms into eternal darkness.
When that happened, the Nine Realms would belong to the Dark Elves once more.
The Dark Elves possessed a terrifying ability.
By embedding a stone infused with dark energy into their bodies, they could transform into monstrous Dark Beasts.
The transformation was irreversible.
Their life force would burn away until death claimed them.
But while it lasted, the Dark Beast form granted overwhelming strength—unstoppable, invincible, devastating.
Malekith personally stabbed one of his subordinates through the abdomen and hid the energy stone within the wound, allowing him to bypass the Asgardian body searches and carry the stone into the prison.
Inside his cell, Loki lay sprawled across his bed, lazily tossing a small cup into the air.
The commotion from the opposite cell caught his attention.
The shockwave from the Dark Elf's transformation killed or injured every prisoner in the same cell block. By the time the guards arrived, the transformed beast had already shattered the cell doors.
Two guards stood no chance.
They were slaughtered within moments.
The Dark Beast rampaged through the prison, smashing open cells as freed inmates clashed violently with reinforcements rushing in.
When the creature passed Loki's cell, it immediately noticed something unusual.
None of the other cells were anywhere near this… comfortable.
The Dark Beast glanced at Loki, silently asking if he wanted help breaking out.
Loki declined.
However, ever the prankster, Loki offered a suggestion instead—directing the creature toward the royal sleeping chambers, hoping to give Odin a particularly nasty surprise.
It didn't take long for Loki to regret that choice.
The prison alarms blared throughout Asgard.
Thor heard them immediately—and his first thought was that Loki was at it again.
"Go, Thor," Frigga said calmly. "I'll take care of her."
She had quickly warmed to Jane Foster and genuinely liked the confident, straightforward Midgardian woman.
Inside the prison, chaos reigned.
And yet Loki sat leisurely in his cell, reading a book.
He knew this riot was nothing more than a brief distraction in the endless monotony of imprisonment. It would soon be crushed, and the battered survivors tossed back into their cells.
The disturbance naturally drew Odin's attention as well.
He personally led troops to suppress the riot.
On the way, he encountered Frigga escorting Jane.
"Frigga, it's nothing serious," Odin assured her.
"You've never been one to lie," Frigga replied, trusting his judgment.
"Take her to the royal chambers. Once things are secure, I'll come find you."
Then Odin frowned. "Where's the child?"
"The maids said she's in the archives."
"Let her stay there. No one can truly harm her."
"Be careful," Frigga said softly.
"No matter how many storms I weather," Odin smiled warmly, "my queen is always worried about me."
Not long after the chaos began, Clara had already left the archive, sprinting toward the great hall.
Along the way, she passed numerous fallen guards.
Their deaths were… wrong.
Their bodies looked as though they had been burned from the inside, reduced to blackened husks.
Before she could reach the hall, a black warship slammed directly into it, tearing through walls and pillars before skidding to a halt.
Heimdall was the first to sense the threat.
Even cloaked, the faint disturbance in the air betrayed the enemy ship's presence.
With sheer skill and fearlessness, Heimdall destroyed it.
But what followed was far worse.
A colossal mothership—hundreds of times larger—emerged next, releasing swarms of smaller craft.
They moved far faster than Heimdall could pursue on foot.
Asgard's patrol ships engaged them, but their firepower was insufficient. They were quickly overwhelmed.
Heimdall rushed back to the Rainbow Bridge's control nexus and plunged his sword into the mechanism.
The Rainbow Bridge's power was dual-purpose—capable of opening paths between realms, or channeling energy into the throne itself, raising an impenetrable barrier over the palace.
The throne activated.
A golden shield slowly enveloped the palace.
Dark Elf ships that struck it exploded into fireballs.
For a moment, the invasion seemed futile.
But the Dark Beast already hidden inside the palace sabotaged the throne mid-operation.
The barrier collapsed.
The Dark Elves surged into the palace unopposed.
A ship crashed directly into the great hall, rolling to a stop.
The violent impact finally made Loki realize—
this was no prank gone too far.
This was war.
From within the hall, Clara witnessed the clash between Asgardian soldiers and Dark Elf warriors.
The difference between ancient weapons and advanced technology was brutally clear.
It was a massacre.
The Dark Elves' weapons—bombs that generated miniature black-hole-like implosions—were utterly unstoppable.
Malekith himself hurled one such bomb at the throne.
The throne—Asgard's last line of defense—was annihilated.
Malekith turned and advanced toward the royal chambers.
He could feel the Aether calling to him.
Odin, realizing he had been lured away, rushed back with his forces—
Too late.
Every guard in the hall lay dead.
"There!" Clara shouted, emerging from behind a shattered pillar and pointing.
"The leader went that way!"
"Odin's eyes widened.
"Frigga!"
The Queen of Asgard was in danger.
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