"My na is Ora..."
Svartalfheim, Coordinates 361.250.
The woman bound tightly by The Other was dazed, her voice faint as she recited everything she knew—or rather, everything Lothar wanted to know.
About Malekith. About the Aether. And about the Twelve Cursed Warriors.
The obsidian armor was standard for them—a signature of the cursed. The power of the Aether was the root of their amplified strength. As for the Dreamblossom—that eerie, violet-hued flower—Ora herself still didn't fully understand it. Naturally, she had nothing concrete to offer Lothar.
But regarding the truth behind Ur and Kotian, that part of her confession went back thirty-two days.
Kotian, a long-ti battlefield commander and Hela's adjutant, had been a target of the Twelve Cursed Warriors for so ti. Thirty-two days ago, during a scheduled troop handover at an Asgardian outpost on Svartalfheim's border, they struck. They waited until Kotian retired to his quarters alone for a quiet al—roasted at—before assassinating him in cold blood. Then, they stole his face, allowing Ur to assu Kotian's identity and move about in daylight, unchallenged.
After returning to Asgard, Ur had intended to use Kotian's identity to gather intelligence. But unexpectedly, Odin reassigned him to Midgard to assist Hela.
Ora didn't elaborate on what happened next, but Lothar and Hela needed no further explanation.
Because from that mont on, Kotian—the one who was truly Ur in disguise—had been working alongside them.
"Do you believe her?"
After Lothar had ordered the Chitauri soldiers to lock Ora away, Hela turned to him with a narrowed gaze.
"Not a word," Lothar replied flatly.
He didn't believe a single syllable of what that woman had said.
"Then why...?"
On the warship's control interface, the coordinates Ora had given were already logged in and confird—clear as day.
"My father once told : belief and action are two different things. What matters is judgnt."
To Lothar, even if the location Ora had provided was a trap, he had every confidence in his ability to handle whatever lay ahead.
His instincts told him that Ora was scheming. She had no reason to give a real location—let alone detailed coordinates—unless she wanted sothing. She must've known Lothar wouldn't trust her. That's why she revealed that the King of the Dark Elves resided there. Whether he chose to go or not, the decision was his alone.
"The Other. Deploy five recon teams."
"At once, Prince Lothar."
The Other bowed respectfully, then used his staff to dispatch five scouting squads imdiately to the specified coordinates.
Only after issuing the recon orders did Lothar signal to Woz to activate the warship's engines.
"Lord Lothar, the surveillance data has been fully compiled. Would you like to review it?"
"...Play it," Lothar said after a brief pause.
"Understood, Lord Lothar," Woz responded promptly. The enormous display on the command screen lit up with footage from when Lothar and Hela had fallen into what they once thought was the Realm of the Dead.
"What is this?" Hela asked, a flicker of confusion crossing her face.
"The ship's voyage recorder, Lady Hela," Woz replied cordially.
The voyage recorder had been activated precisely to prevent incidents like that one. The universe was full of bizarre, unpredictable powers. With a recorder, any anomaly could be precisely analyzed.
The massive command display split down the middle. On the left: a full energy spectrum analysis. On the right: visual footage of what Lothar and Hela had actually experienced.
"A warped dinsional space..."
The playback clearly showed that the Infinity Stone isotopes hadn't altered their reality directly. Instead, they had pulled the two into a distorted alternate dinsion.
"Woz."
"Lord Lothar, I'm currently analyzing the full energy spectrum. Once it's decoded, I'll extract the Mind Stone's power to forge two protective devices for you and Lady Hela—capable of shielding against that dinsional force."
The seamless exchange between commander and aide left Hela unable to interject. Though questions swirled in her mind, there was no space for her voice.
...
anwhile, on Centaurian Sector, Black Quadrant—Base Archives.
Thanos stood with his hands behind his back, his eyes fixed on the footage from the warship's recorder. Satisfaction glead in his gaze.
Even after awakening his latent power and attaining the golden-haired form, the warrior hadn't relied on the Mind Stone at all. Even when dragged into a pocket dinsion, he'd overco an enemy enhanced by a multitude of Reality Stone isotopes—relying solely on the strength he'd earned.
At this rate, it wouldn't be long before he reached the golden form at full potential.
"Lord Thanos."
Ebony Maw's voice ca from just outside the door.
"Enter."
"Lord Thanos, we've received a request for communication from the people of Vanaheim."
At that, Thanos turned, staring down at the ever-submissive Ebony Maw. He said nothing for a long mont.
"Vanaheim?" he repeated, voice low.
"Yes, my lord."
Cold sweat trickled down Maw's spine. He didn't dare move, not even to retrieve the communicator, not without Thanos's permission.
Even though Thanos's tone was calm, it filled Ebony Maw with dread.
"I've already ordered the communications division to patch the security breach they found. It won't happen again."
Still bowing deeply, Maw waited—but no reply ca.
"What did they say?" Thanos finally asked.
Ebony Maw exhaled subtly in relief. That ant Thanos wasn't too displeased—yet.
"They've offered a trade, my lord. A branch of Yggdrasil and information about an Infinity Stone."
Even as he bowed deeply, sweat soaking his back, Maw recited the Vanaheim king's offer word for word.
The World Tree's branch? Thanos had no interest in that. As for the Infinity Stone...
"Seems Odin's security asures weren't all that effective," Thanos said calmly, his expression unshaken.
Because he—Thanos—never betrays an ally.
Not even when that ally holds a complete Infinity Stone.
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