"They actually took the bait."
Thor and Loki lifted their heads alongside Rowan and watched as the massive warship shed its cloaking field. The enormous hull descended through the clouds, blotting out the faint starlight above Svartalfheim.
In the sa instant, Thor was clad in battle armor, Mjolnir already in his hand. Loki’s daggers slid into his palms, twin blades glinting with cold light.
Rowan stared at them.
"Could you at least wait until it lands and soone steps out before suiting up?"
Even with Rowan suppressing their energy signatures, sudden transformations carried risk. If Malekith sensed sothing off, the ship could jump away imdiately.
Thor coughed.
"Habit."
Loki looked mildly embarrassed.
Rowan snapped his fingers.
High above the atmosphere, a faint arcane sigil flared and vanished.
The entire orbital space around the planet had already been sealed. Once inside Svartalfheim’s gravity well, no vessel would be opening a spatial escape route.
"Insurance," Rowan said calmly.
Aboard the Dark Elf flagship, Malekith stared at the projection.
Three Midgardians.
Two of them had just changed clothing.
Not into anything random.
Into unmistakable Asgardian-style armor.
His eyes narrowed.
Several commanders spoke quickly.
"Likely a form of rapid-change technology."
"Midgard worships Asgardians. Copying their aesthetics isn’t strange."
"Our scanners still detect no high-level energy signatures."
The Aether was right there.
Visible.
Unguarded.
Malekith considered the situation for a few seconds.
If it was a trap and he committed fully, he risked everything.
If it was real and he hesitated, he lost his only chance in five thousand years.
He turned sharply.
"Agrin. Take a squad. Retrieve the Aether."
Agrin stepped forward, kneeling.
Malekith produced a small, black stone etched with crimson lines and pressed it into Agrin’s palm.
"If resistance proves troubleso, use this."
The Curse Stone.
A relic forged using Aether energy long ago. When embedded into the body, it transford the user into a Curse Warrior, granting imnse physical power at the cost of permanent corruption.
It was the last one.
"I will not fail," Agrin said.
Minutes later, a small dropship detached from the flagship and descended.
The craft touched down in front of Rowan, Thor, and Loki.
Dark Elf soldiers poured out, weapons raised, forming a semicircle.
Agrin stepped forward, eyes locked on the red stone in Rowan’s hand.
"Hand over the Aether."
Loki glanced over the soldiers, then at their armor and physiology.
"Dark Elves," he said quietly. "No doubt about it. So they really did survive."
Thor grinned.
"Rowan. Can I start now?"
Rowan sat down on a folding chair beside the grill, picked up a skewer, and took a bite.
"Go ahead."
That was all Thor needed.
"For Asgard!"
Mjolnir flew.
The nearest Dark Elf was smashed off his feet and sent skidding across the cracked ground.
Blaster fire erupted.
Loki vanished.
Illusions blood across the battlefield, half a dozen Lokis sprinting in different directions.
The real one slipped behind Agrin.
Steel slid between ribs.
Agrin roared.
"You dare!"
He slamd the Curse Stone into his own wound.
The transformation was imdiate.
Bones cracked.
Muscle swelled.
His body stretched to nearly three ters tall as black-red energy surged beneath his skin. The stab wound sealed shut, leaving behind warped flesh like molten rock.
Agrin backhanded Loki across the field.
Thor charged, hamr swinging.
Two exchanges later, Thor was sent flying as well, skidding across the dirt.
This was no ordinary soldier.
Agrin had centuries of combat experience, and now the raw strength to match it.
Instead of pursuing Thor or Loki, the Curse Warrior turned toward Rowan.
The stone.
That was the objective.
Thor and Loki froze.
Of all possible choices...
"You picked the worst one," Thor muttered.
Loki winced.
Rowan was still seated.
Still eating.
He looked up at the massive figure sprinting toward him.
Bad decisions were universal.
So beings simply learned too late.
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