{Chapter: 381 Give Me 30 Seconds}
William stood tall as Algrim once again launched himself like a living projectile, his cursed body wrapped in pulsing crimson energy. The air screamed around him as he closed the distance in a blink.
William didn't even raise a hand—he just smiled.
"He seems quite determined," William mused aloud, watching the cursed warrior barrel toward him like a meteor. "Let's see if that rage comes with results."
BOOM!
The impact struck William dead center, an eruption of sound and energy echoing across the forested island. He was hurled back like a missile, cutting a devastating path through the dense jungle. Dozens of trees snapped like twigs as his body crashed through them, dirt and debris flying in all directions.
When he finally came to a stop, he was kneeling in the middle of a clearing, one knee down, head bowed, surrounded by the destruction caused by his flight. Smoke rose from the torn earth around him.
From the distance, Malekith narrowed his eyes. "Did it work?"
Algrim exhaled slowly, a confident gleam in his crimson eyes. "It should have. I put everything I had into that strike."
Malekith nodded with a cold, victorious smirk. "Good. I want to make sure he dies slowly. Come. Let's finish it."
The two dark elves advanced cautiously, stepping over the splintered trees and ruined ground. When they finally stood in front of William's still form, Malekith scowled.
"William," he said sharply. "I know you're not dead. Don't insult us by pretending."
There was a pause… then a soft chuckle.
"Alright," William said, lifting his head slowly. A confident grin played on his lips. "No pretending then."
He rose with casual ease, brushing off a leaf that had landed on his shoulder. His clothes were a little dusty, but otherwise pristine. Not a scratch. Not a bruise.
Algrim's eyes widened. "No... That can't be."
Malekith took a cautious step back, his breath catching. "How is he unharmed? Algrim, you hit him with everything he had!"
William looked down at his chest and pointed at a small, faint scratch—barely visible. "Actually, I have to give you credit. You did scratch me. Right here. Just a little." He tapped the spot and winced theatrically. "Ow. That really stings. I might need a Band-Aid."
"Impossible!" Algrim shouted, rage surging in his voice.
"I mean it," William said with mock seriousness, holding his hands up in surrender. "That kind of power could even bruise a mortal. You should be proud."
Malekith's expression twisted with fury. "You mock us?!"
"No," William replied, eyes gleaming. "I mock your expectations. You thought you were walking into a battle. I'm just taking out the trash."
With a snarl, Malekith vanished in a flicker of black mist—reappearing above William with a snarl, his dark energy surging into the shape of a jagged, obsidian longsword.
He dove like a hawk, sword aimed straight at William's head.
But just as the blade was a hair's width away—it stopped.
Frozen. Immobile.
Malekith blinked, confused, and then realized… William's hand was casually wrapped around the blade. When had he moved? How had he even seen it coming?
William tilted his head and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "So dramatic. You practiced that line in the mirror, didn't you?"
Malekith strained, trying to push the blade down, but it wouldn't budge.
William leaned closer. "Tell me, dark elf. Is that really the best your species has to offer? You show up on my island, wreck my beach, interrupt my dinner, and this is your idea of payback?"
"If I hadn't been weakened—if I hadn't slept for a thousand years—I would've torn you apart!" Malekith growled through clenched teeth, his body trembling with rage and exertion.
William let out a mock gasp. "Ah, so now we're playing the 'what if' game? That's adorable."
Then, without warning, William flung Malekith backward with a violent swing of his arm.
The dark elf shot through the air like a ragdoll, slamming into a massive boulder. The rock exploded into a thousand pieces upon impact, shards of stone raining down around the battlefield.
Still holding the sword, William looked down at it with disinterest.
"Hmph. Lightweight. And this sword…" He clenched his hand.
CRACK!
The black blade shattered into dust in his fist. Tiny fragments drifted to the ground like falling ash.
"A total disappointment."
---
From the sky above, the women hovered, eyes wide at the unfolding spectacle.
"He's showboating again," White Queen muttered, arms crossed. "Classic William."
"He just crushed a cursed blade with one hand," Ada said with a half-smile. "He's allowed to be dramatic."
"Still," Jane whispered from beside Pepper, eyes shining, "I've never seen anything like this. He makes it look... effortless."
Pepper smiled softly. "That's William for you. A total showoff. But he always delivers."
---
"Lord!" Algrim shouted, rushing over the broken ground to where Malekith lay sprawled amidst shattered stone. His armored boots thundered as he knelt, pulling his master up by the shoulder.
"I'm fine," Malekith grunted, shoving Algrim away with a pained sneer, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His pride hurt more than his body. "I said I'm fine."
High above, William yawned dramatically, his voice echoing across the battlefield. "Is that all you've got? A little explosion, a sword swing, and a pep talk? If that's the best your species can muster, then not only will you never see the Aether again... you're going to die here—on this island, far from any star that cares."
Malekith's expression darkened. He hadn't expected this. Not in any of his calculations. Not in any of his thousand-year visions of vengeance. William was too strong. Too fast. Too unpredictable.
"If I could regain even half of my true strength..." Malekith hissed, clenching his fists, "you would be a smear of ash on this cursed ground."
Algrim, breathing heavily beside him, turned to his master. "We don't have time, my lord... but there is still a way."
Malekith looked at him, and understanding dawned in his eyes. "Algrim... no. Not that."
"I am ready." Algrim's voice was resolute, the conviction of his people echoing in every syllable. "If our race is to rise again... then one of us must fall."
Malekith's face twisted—grief, pride, and purpose flashing through his features. "Algrim... if you do this, I will make sure your name is sung across the stars when the Dark Elves rise once more."
"I don't need songs," Algrim said with quiet pride. "I need you to win."
William clapped mockingly from above. "Wow, what a heartfelt moment. Sacrifice! Glory! Martyrdom! You boys rehearsed that one?"
He smirked, tilting his head. "Still... sounds like you're about to show me something interesting. I love surprises. But just in case it is interesting... I should probably kill you first."
Malekith roared, "Now! Go!"
Algrim launched into the sky, ascending rapidly like a black comet. From the underbelly of the hovering dark battleship, a huge cannon—twice the size of a tank—unfolded with mechanical precision. Runes lit up along its length in blood-red glow.
A blinding beam of condensed dark energy shot down and engulfed Algrim.
"AAARGHH!!" Algrim's scream tore through the heavens, the sheer force shaking the earth. His body convulsed, armor cracking and flesh unraveling into particles of cursed essence.
William's eyes narrowed as he hovered in place, his arms folded. "Oh? So... this is your big play? Human torch routine?"
He watched, intrigued, as Algrim's body was slowly unmade—turned into raw dark energy, absorbed piece by piece back into the warship.
Malekith stood below, panting, his voice ragged but triumphant. "You wouldn't understand... this is rebirth. What is taken shall be given. Algrim's sacrifice will feed the core. The core will awaken what lies beneath!"
William floated down slowly, smiling like a god surveying ants. "I do understand now. You weren't trying to win... You were trying to buy time. And now you want to monologue your way into a dramatic finale."
Malekith stepped back. "You're too late."
William sighed. "That's where you're wrong."
He vanished—just a shimmer of light—and reappeared behind Malekith in an instant, grabbing him by the neck.
"Wha—!?"
Malekith's body lifted off the ground, feet kicking helplessly in the air.
"Malekith," William said softly, almost conversationally, "revenge is such a pretty lie. You paint it with justice and purpose, but in the end, it only serves your ego. You've lost. Your race is ashes. And this? This is your curtain call."
Malekith gasped, clawing at the hand around his throat. "Give me... give me thirty seconds... that's all I need..."
"Thirty seconds?" William raised an eyebrow. "You think I'm stupid? You're stalling again."
Malekith's eyes widened. "No—wait, please—!"
"Too late."
William's grip tightened.
CRACK!
A sharp, sickening sound rang out. Malekith's eyes bulged for a second, and then... nothing. His limbs went limp. His head tilted unnaturally to the side.
William dropped the dark elf leader's lifeless body to the ground. It hit the dirt with a dull thud.
He stared at it for a moment. "Just like that. No final speech. No last stand. Huh."
He looked up at the sky where Algrim's decomposed form had just finished merging with the warship's core, sending pulses of crimson light through its dark hull.
William smirked. "So that's what you were aiming for... but now your master is dead. What's the point?"
---
Up in the sky, White Queen folded her arms across her chest, observing the scene below.
"Well, that escalated beautifully," she muttered.
Alice hovered beside her, her eyes scanning the warship's energy levels. "Malekith's gone, but whatever that core thing is—it's still powering up. Something's coming."
Ada added, "Something... big."
Pepper and Jane, standing on the cliff edge, looked up at the looming warship, now humming with renewed energy.
"I think that thing's not done yet," Pepper said.
Jane's hand gripped hers tightly. "Then neither are we."