The exact location of the Soul Stone was known only to Gamora in this universe, and that alone made it far more troublesome than any of the other Infinity Stones. It wasn't just hidden—it came with a price that most beings would never be willing to pay. The condition to obtain it was cruel to the extreme. To claim the Soul Stone, one had to sacrifice the life of the person they loved most.
That requirement alone turned it into something far more than a simple cosmic artifact. It wasn't just difficult to find—it demanded a level of ruthlessness that only a handful of beings in the entire universe could muster. In a way, it seemed to suggest that every true ruler, every king who sought absolute power, was destined to walk a path soaked in cold, merciless choices.
Among the six Infinity Stones, the Soul Stone stood at the top as the most difficult to obtain.
Because of that, Ethan Drake had no intention of trying to force the answer out of Gamora. Interrogation would be inefficient, and more importantly, unnecessary. There was someone else who would chase that stone far more desperately than he ever needed to—Thanos.
The Titan was already driven by obsession, and with several Stones now out of his grasp, that obsession would only intensify. Ethan didn't need to rush. He just needed to wait and follow the trail when Thanos inevitably made his move.
"I'm looking forward to what you do next," Ethan thought, a faint amusement crossing his mind.
With Proxima Midnight eliminated and the brief clash of wills with Thanos concluded, there was no longer any reason to remain in the empty void. Ethan shifted his attention back to matters closer at hand.
With a single thought, space folded.
The next moment, he stepped back into Nidavellir.
This marked the third time the dwarf realm had suffered a devastating attack within his memory, and the scene before him reflected that grim pattern. The once-thriving forge halls were filled with smoke and scorched metal, while the bodies of fallen dwarves lay scattered across the ground.
The glow of the furnaces still burned, but the atmosphere had changed. There was grief here, heavy and suffocating.
King Eitri stood among the aftermath, his hands trembling slightly as he wiped away tears. When he saw Ethan appear, he immediately forced himself to bow, suppressing his sorrow beneath a layer of forced composure.
"We owe Your Majesty our lives," Eitri said, his voice tight but respectful.
He was not a fool. He understood clearly that the survival of his people now depended entirely on the man standing before him.
Ethan didn't respond to the gratitude right away. Instead, his gaze swept across the forge hall, lingering briefly on the rows of weapons hanging along the walls. Then, almost casually, he asked, "How many died this time?"
"Twenty-four," Eitri replied, his voice lowering as pain slipped through despite his efforts to contain it.
The number sounded small at first glance, but the reality behind it was far harsher. Nidavellir's population had already been reduced over the years. Once protected under Asgard's influence, they had since been left exposed, and repeated losses had chipped away at their numbers.
From hundreds, they had fallen to barely over a hundred remaining. Every life lost now carried far greater weight than before.
"If I had arrived a little later," Ethan said evenly, "you would have lost even more."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Ethan's tone remained calm, but the words that followed carried a subtle pressure. "Saving you is easy for me. But if this keeps happening, it becomes… inconvenient. Especially now that your coordinates have been completely exposed."
Eitri's heart skipped a beat.
He didn't fully understand where this was going, but he could feel the shift in the conversation. This was no longer about gratitude or survival. This was something else.
"Do you remember what I asked of you last time?" Ethan continued.
Eitri nodded quickly, forcing himself to respond without hesitation. "I remember. Ms. Carol's battle suit has been completed, and the armor and weapons for your soldiers are also in progress. I can bring them to you immediately."
Ethan's lips curved slightly. "How many sets have you prepared?"
Eitri hesitated.
"Twenty-eight sets… Your Majesty."
The moment the words left his mouth, he knew something was wrong.
"And do you know how many soldiers I have?" Ethan asked, his tone still light, but now carrying an unmistakable edge.
Eitri froze.
He didn't answer, because he didn't know. Or rather, he had assumed something that was no longer true.
"There are thousands," Ethan said calmly. "And you prepared twenty-eight sets."
The weight of those words crushed down instantly.
Thousands?
Eitri's mind reeled. The Kryptonian Empire, which he had assumed to be small and struggling, had already reached that scale?
Ethan watched his reaction with mild interest before continuing. "You told me before that you still take orders from other empires. That my request was… secondary."
Eitri's face turned pale. He didn't dare confirm it, but he couldn't deny it either.
"Which is understandable," Ethan added casually. "Free work doesn't tend to get prioritized."
Silence filled the forge hall.
Then Ethan took a step forward.
"So now," he said, his voice sharpening just enough to cut through the air, "there is only one path left for you."
Eitri's breathing slowed, his instincts screaming at him to listen carefully.
"The dwarf kingdom will fully submit to me," Ethan stated plainly. "You will become part of my empire. From this moment on, you will no longer take orders from anyone else. Every weapon you forge, every piece of armor you create, will belong to my people."
The meaning was absolute.
This was not a request.
This was annexation.
Ethan's reasoning was simple. Kryptonian soldiers, unlike himself, were not invincible. They needed enhancements—equipment that could push their capabilities further. The dwarves, with their unmatched craftsmanship and rune-enhanced weapons, were the perfect solution.
If they served him completely, his army's strength would rise dramatically.
But partial cooperation was no longer acceptable.
Eitri felt the pressure fully now. Cold sweat formed across his back as he struggled to respond. He understood the implication behind those words. Refusal was not truly an option.
Still, he forced himself to speak. "It's not that we don't want to… serving your empire would be an honor. But… we cannot move our neutron star forge. Without it, we cannot create the weapons you require."
For a brief moment, the hall fell silent again.
Then Ethan smiled.
"Is that all?" he asked lightly.
He turned his gaze toward the distant sky, where the fading core of a dying star still burned weakly in the void.
"I can move planets," he said. "You think I can't move a star core?"
Eitri's pupils shrank.
"I'll take it," Ethan continued calmly. "It can serve as part of the landscape on Neptune."
The casual way he said it made the statement even more terrifying. To him, relocating a neutron star forge was no different than picking up a tool and placing it somewhere else.
"So," Ethan finished, his eyes settling back on the dwarf king, "do you still have a reason to refuse?"
The pressure broke completely.
Eitri dropped to his knees without hesitation, his body trembling as he bowed deeply.
"We wouldn't dare… Your Majesty."
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