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Asgard. The ruins of the Golden Palace.
Rubble exploded outward.
Hela rose. Armor shattered. Hair wild. But Asgard's divine power — drawn from the soil itself — poured into her body in continuous waves, healing wounds at a rate visible to the naked eye.
"I am immortal." Her voice was cold gravel. She fixed her gaze on Jake, then on Thor, who stood between them. "As long as I stand on this land, I cannot be defeated. How could ants understand the realm of a god?"
"No matter how many times you knock me down — I stand up."
BOOM!
Hela vanished — a black whirlwind of death, bypassing Jake entirely, lunging for Thor. Kill the heir, claim the throne. Simple math.
Jake didn't pursue. Shock Rock's massive body planted itself in front of the refugee ship, energy shield absorbing the forest of black spikes Hela summoned from beneath the bridge. Civilians first. Always.
Center of the Bifrost.
Thor and Hela clashed — twin blades against Necroswords, lightning against death.
Pfft.
Blood.
The strength gap was still real. Hela's sword flashed across Thor's face and took his eye.
The pain was white. Thor hit the balcony hard. Hela stood over him with the contempt of someone who'd been killing since before he was born.
"Look at you, little brother." She smiled down at the one-eyed god beneath her. "You call yourself the God of Thunder? Without your hammer, you're just a pathetic wretch."
Thor lay in the dark. The pain pulled him somewhere else — a cliff, Norway, wind and grass, and a one-eyed old man standing at the edge.
"Are you the God of Hammers, Thor?"
"The hammer was meant to help you control your power. Not be the source of it."
"Asgard is not a place. It is where the people are."
The sky changed.
RRRRUMBLE—!!!
A bolt of lightning — thicker than any Thor had ever called, brighter than the Bifrost itself — descended from the heavens and struck the Golden Palace.
It hit Thor. And Hela. And everything between them.
"WHAT—?!" Hela was blasted backward before she could raise a shield.
Thor stood.
White lightning blazed from his remaining eye. Not summoned. Not channeled through a weapon. Generated. His body was the source, the storm was the expression, and the power had been inside him all along — waiting for the hammer to break, waiting for the eye to fall, waiting for the son to finally understand what the father had always known.
"FOR ASGARD!!"
Thor became lightning. A humanoid bolt that slammed Hela back into the earth with the force of a god who'd finally stopped asking permission to be one.
Jake watched. Deactivated Shock Rock. Landed beside Thor.
"But you know," Jake said quietly, looking at Hela already reforming in the distance, "as long as Asgard's soil exists, she can't die."
"I know." Thor wiped blood from his face. One eye. One realization. "So I make a choice. Asgard isn't the land. It's the people."
He turned toward the distant treasury. Where Loki was hiding.
"LOKI! DO IT!!"
Loki — crouched in the shadows, observing, calculating — looked at the object in his hands.
Surtur's Crown. Burning with primordial fire. The key to Ragnarok.
He glanced at the Tesseract glowing blue on its pedestal. Hesitated.
"This whole family is insane."
He gritted his teeth. Took a breath. And threw the Crown into the Eternal Flame.
"WITNESS THE END!!"
BOOM—!!!!
Heat beyond comprehension erupted from beneath Asgard. The Golden Palace's foundation detonated. A hand — made of lava, made of apocalypse — broke through the ground, followed by a body so vast it blocked the sky.
Surtur. The King of Muspelheim. Fully formed. Mountain-sized. The Twilight Sword in his grip carrying the weight of prophecy fulfilled.
"I AM... THE END OF ASGARD!!"
One swing. Half the realm became fire.
"NOOOO!!"
Hela screamed — raw, primal, the sound of someone watching their power source be destroyed in real time. She charged the fire giant, Necroswords blazing—
To Surtur, she was an insect.
"Ant."
The Twilight Sword plunged into Asgard's core.
The realm began to die.
"GO! NOW!!"
Jake grabbed Thor and ran. The refugee ship — loaded with every civilian the Plumbers and Valkyrie had evacuated — was already lifting off.
They leaped onto the stern deck as the ship cleared the disintegrating Bifrost.
Below them — Asgard in its final moments. Hela struggling in the sea of fire, consumed alongside the land that had made her immortal. Surtur driving the Twilight Sword deeper. The golden realm crumbling, collapsing, breaking apart into fragments that burned like dying stars.
Then — silence. A flash of light.
And Asgard was a field of glowing debris, drifting through the void.
"Gwen."
Jake opened the channel to the Moon. His voice was low.
"Asgard has fallen."
"I see it." A trace of awe in her voice. "Massive energy burst detected. Are you both okay?"
"We're safe. But this is just the beginning."
Jake looked into deep space. The destruction of Asgard meant the Nine Realms had lost their guardian. And somewhere out there, a certain purple overlord had just felt the power shift.
On the deck, Thor covered his ruined eye with one hand, staring at the ashes of everything he'd known.
Jake stood beside him.
"You made the choice. You saved everyone."
"But I lost my home."
"No." Jake pointed at the galaxy above them — toward the direction of Earth. "The Plumbers' Moon base is open to you. It's not as fancy as the Golden Palace. But it's got the best defense systems in the solar system."
A pause.
"And you've got me."
Thor raised his head. In the single remaining eye — through the grief, through the loss — hope reignited.
"Thank you."
The ship turned toward the jump lane. Earth-bound. Safe.
The deep-space radar screamed.
[WARNING — HYPER-GIGANTIC WARSHIP DETECTED!]
[ENERGY CLASSIFICATION: WORLD-DESTROYING!]
A shape emerged from the dark — vast, purple-black, shaped like the open mouth of an abyss. It slid from the shadows and filled the viewport, blocking the jump lane, blocking escape, blocking everything.
Sanctuary II.
He was here.
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