"His Highness Beckett, we have arrived."
Svartalfheim, coordinates 213.646. Warships blotted out the dim sky, and the inhabitants below looked up, their eyes filled with astonishment.
Why were such unfamiliar warships appearing above them?
Had they lost the war?
The people living in this tribe gazed at each other, seeing a hint of unconcealable surprise in their comrades' eyes.
This was one of the most hidden places in all of Svartalfheim. Unless Malekith's army had been completely routed, they couldn't think of any other reason for outsiders to find them here.
"A highly hidden tribe?"
The tribe's characteristics were exactly as Aura had described: many elderly, many women, few young men.
Did the king of the Dark Elf race, Malekith, live in a place like this?
Beckett frowned and leaped down from the cabin door, landing steadily at the tribe's entrance. Hela, using a black longsword as a buffer, followed closely behind. Her ink-black hair fluttered, instantly putting everyone in the tribe on alert.
"Daughter of Odin!!!"
Hela, who had already made a name for herself in the Nine Realms War, was not unfamiliar to these people, even though they hadn't been out and interacted with the outside world for a long time.
"Malekith, get out." Ignoring their bewildered looks, Beckett crossed his arms over his chest, surveyed the surroundings, and his powerful voice made everyone in the tribe exchange glances.
What the heck?
Malekith?
If that radical dared to live here, they would make him experience the agony of being cut into a thousand pieces in minutes.
"Malekith is not here. This is the resting place of our Dark Elf King. I ask you, no, I demand that you leave immediately."
"The Otherwise, you will bear the consequences."
The only five middle-aged men in the entire tribe exchanged glances. The one in the lead raised the spear in his hand and issued a warning to Beckett.
"What did you say?"
Beckett turned his head and said, "The Other."
"Yes! His Highness Beckett!" The Other, holding a scepter on the warship, beckoned excitedly, then kicked Aura, who was bound and gagged beside him, off the ship.
Hup!
Thump!
"Cough... cough cough..."
Dust billowed. Aura, who had landed on her backside, grimaced in pain. But The Other scooped her up with one hand and brought her before Beckett, saying, "Stop pretending. I clearly kicked your stomach, so why are you clutching your backside and crying out in pain?"
"You—"
"Aura?!"
Enraged, Aura's eyes widened. Before she could speak, a powerful arm, carrying a familiar aura, locked around her throat.
"Aura!"
The middle-aged man, who had clearly recognized his own, looked ferocious. As black mist permeated the air, black and silver armor covered his body.
Whoosh!
An energy wave emanating from Beckett's fingertip pierced the middle-aged man's chest, shattering the exquisitely crafted armor.
"Is this your confidence?"
Beckett grinned, effortlessly increasing the pressure and enjoying Aura's struggling face in his hand.
"Truly pathetic."
The coldness in Beckett's eyes intensified. "Placing your hope of salvation on a bunch of useless people."
"Enough, young man."
A gentle energy emerged from within the tribe. As soon as the voice spoke, Beckett felt as if his hand was being struck by an energy. He instinctively loosened his grip, and Aura fell to the ground, gasping for breath.
"Leave this place, and I can pretend nothing happened."
With a voice that sounded like it was on its last breath and a frail, aged body, an old man leaning on a cane appeared at the tribe's entrance, making Beckett extremely wary.
He felt a great threat.
"King?!"
"King, why did you come out?!"
The four middle-aged men, unable to express their anger, changed color drastically and rushed to shield the old man.
"King? Is this what Malekith really looks like?"
Beckett, hearing this, subconsciously compared him to the phantom image of Malekith that had appeared at the Asgardian outpost earlier. There was no resemblance between them at all.
"Don't look at me, I don't know who he is either," Hela replied coldly, equally confused.
"I am from Asgard, not Svartalfheim."
"You must be that little girl Odin kept by his side back then. Time really flies... cough cough..."
The old man's gaze fell upon Hela, and then, as if an old wound had reopened, he clutched his withered chest and coughed incessantly.
"Who are you?"
"He is the true king of our Dark Elf race. That Malekith fellow is merely a usurper who seized power after his revival!"
Aura, finally catching her breath, stood up, her purple eyes burning with anger towards Malekith. The words that left her mouth, however, made Beckett raise an eyebrow in surprise: "Interesting."
"A succession drama?"
"Young man, Aura must have brought you here because you displayed strength that, in her eyes, is enough to defeat Malekith... cough cough... but believe me, you should leave this place."
"Malekith of Svartalfheim is about to truly awaken. All the Nine Realms will fall into darkness, becoming his personal paradise. No one can stop him, not even Asgard, not even Odin."
The old man coughed, a patch of unhealthy flush appearing on his face, etched with the marks of time. The uncontrolled spitting of blood threw the group into a flurry.
"No, Your Majesty, this man easily defeated Vilruzz, who had transformed into the God of Death and Combat. I saw it with my own eyes!"
"Your Majesty, he can definitely defeat Malekith." Aura, with her back to Beckett, knelt on one knee before the old man, respectfully stating her conclusion point by point.
"God of Death and Combat?" After hearing Aura's description, the old man chuckled and shook his head.
"The true name of that Tyrannosaurus Rex is the Dark Fighting Death Dragon Beast. It's not a mythical deity, but a combat weapon cultivated by the Dark Elves in ancient times."
"It's merely a bio-weapon that can be mass-produced."
As the second oldest in the Dark Elf race, surpassed only by the king Malekith, the old man, who had always longed to lead his people to peaceful development and had personally trained twelve high-end combatants to maintain the royal status of the Dark Elves in Svartalfheim, once owned one in his childhood.
Unfortunately, he didn't raise it well, and it starved to death shortly after hatching.
"Young man, you don't belong in this world. There's no need to throw your life away here for no reason, so leave this place."
After admonishing Aura, the old man leaned on his cane and turned his gaze towards Beckett, who had been observing coldly.
"What is your name?" Beckett narrowed his eyes, suddenly intrigued.
"Zion," the old man coughed, stating his name.
Thanks to [Demon Tongue for Life] for the generous reward~
Thanks to Yasha, Gou Dan Bu You Sang, and Ye Zi Bo Tao for the tips~
-----------
Translation by: randomtranslator.com
Read 2500+ original & fanfic translations and Translate for Free at: randomtranslator.com