Su Ming couldn’t understand the Dark Elf’s language, but when the Cursed Warrior caught his attack and raised its head to roar, he could guess its aning.
It was probably boasting: "I blocked Odin’s strike, stopped Gungnir itself—this is a tale to brag about for life!"
But that was rely a warm-up. The combination of Su Ming and Gungnir wasn’t sothing a naless grunt like this could withstand.
Getting serious, Su Ming gripped his weapon tightly with both hands, charging at the retreating Cursed Warrior with speed far beyond the reaction ti of such a strength-based foe.
The golden spear pierced straight into the chest of the still-gloating monster. Su Ming brushed past, seizing the spear’s tip protruding from the enemy’s back and yanking it free.
A massive spray of blood erupted.
Gungnir struck the Cursed Warrior’s heart with precision, sprouting barbs and blades within, shredding surrounding nerves and blood vessels.
The Cursed Warrior’s strengths were its brute force and battle frenzy, a fearless weapon without pain. But for Su Ming, that was no issue.
Though Gungnir had taken the form of a spear, its razor-sharp nature and bloodthirsty essence remained unchanged. Its unique ability to morph, coupled with the speed of its devastating strike through the heart, was overwhelming.
Even as the Cursed Warrior collapsed with a thunderous crash, its spiked, horned face seed to hold a lingering grin.
Su Ming flicked the blood from Gungnir and strode back toward the palace without sparing the corpse a glance. Behind him, the guards erupted in a tidal wave of cheers.
The sensation was odd. As Deathstroke, his kills never drew applause. Asgard was... truly sothing else.
The warriors watched the red cape vanish through the doors. Their king, as ever, was mighty. In these dire tis, his silhouette stood as unyielding as the World Tree itself.
At that thought, many turned to glance toward the World Tree.
But the once sky-shrouding giant was no longer radiant with light. Now, it stood dark and bare in the distance, faint wisps of smoke rising from its charred branches after the flas had died.
The Asgardian warriors turned away, dragging the massive corpse for disposal, their hearts steeled with the will of fire.
"Where leaves dance, fire burns."
This was all part of the Allfather’s plan, incomprehensible yet profound. Truly, Odin’s wisdom was unmatched.
Bloodied and sticky, Su Ming led Gulveig to the healing chambers to et Frigga.
Asgard’s queen was assisting the healers in tending to Heimdall. On a high-tech Asgardian dical bed, holographic projections floated, displaying dense arrays of data and runes.
Yet, magical auras pulsed through the room, and soft sunlight stread gently through the windows into the ward.
"Your Majesty, the Allfather," the healers and attendants bowed, gazing at the blood-soaked Odin with awe.
"Continue your work. Henceforth, when healing the wounded, you need not bow to anyone," Su Ming replied calmly. The dical facilities were advanced, but the healers seed less than expert.
Heimdall lay still, his external wounds mostly treated. Though the thod was unclear, the bullet holes that once riddled his body had healed.
Yet, he remained unconscious.
Stripped of his armor, Heimdall lay bare-chested, his physique strikingly robust.
Over two ters tall, with thick hair and a beard like a lion’s mane, his pale skin and brown hair exuded the aura of an Asgardian warrior.
With others present, Frigga bowed to the impostor Odin, though this Odin was far more approachable than usual, waving casually for her to stand and speak.
"How is he?" Su Ming asked.
"His physical wounds are healed, but the weapon that struck him was unusual. His soul seems damaged. We can only wait," Frigga replied.
Su Ming unhooked Heimdall’s greatsword from his back, placing it in the guardian’s hands, arranging him in his favored stance—leaning on his blade.
"Wake up, Heimdall. Asgard needs you."
The massive sword rested on Heimdall’s chest, his hands gripping the hilt.
Still, he didn’t stir.
"You can’t save soone like that," Frigga said, skeptical of healing through words alone.
Su Ming glanced at her with his single eye. "Others might not, but Heimdall is different. When a man’s heart is bound to his duty, he cannot sleep."
As his words landed, Heimdall’s eyes opened. The weight of his sword reminded him of his duty to guard the Rainbow Bridge, forcing him awake.
"Majesty. My Queen," Heimdall rasped, sitting up to salute them.
Su Ming shot Frigga a smug look, his golden armor gleaming, the bloodstains barely noticeable. "No need for formalities, my friend. Rest. Now, tell —tell your king—who hard you."
"The Giant brought Frost Giants and so Midgardians," Heimdall said, sipping water from an attendant to steady his breath, delivering the intel Su Ming sought.
Frigga glanced at Su Ming, puzzled, as this false Odin was himself a Midgardian.
But Su Ming already knew Hydra was behind it. He needed to know which leader.
"Can you recall the Midgardian’s appearance? Can you describe them?" Su Ming pressed gently, knowing Hydra’s leaders had distinct traits.
Octopus head, skinless face, gold-rimd glasses, or a penchant for tight suits—any key detail would pinpoint the culprit.
"They wore black leather robes, most with strange pig masks, but their leader had a purple cloth over their face."
Purple cloth.
Su Ming knew who it was: Baron Zemo, Hydra’s most cunning snake.
The question was whether this was the elder Zemo, risen from hell, or the younger Zemo, donning the mask early.
If it was the younger Zemo, he was a self-serving opportunist cloaked in Hydra’s skin.
He cared nothing for Hydra’s or the Nazis’ ideals, living only for himself and his family.
In the comics, the younger Zemo’s father was killed by Steve Rogers and Bucky. Zemo sched for decades, failing countless tis, before finally defeating Captain Arica and capturing the Winter Soldier.
Surviving against Steve Rogers—unlike Batman—required real skill.
Despite dozens of failed plans, Zemo always escaped, a feat beyond re luck.
Shockingly, after capturing Bucky, Zemo didn’t kill him. He brought Bucky to his father’s grave, demanding an apology.
Zemo later told Bucky he envied Captain Arica’s companionship. His goal wasn’t vengeance but to make Steve feel the fleeting pain of loss—a pain both he and Steve, as strong n, would quickly overco, growing stronger.
Killing Bucky was possible but pointless.
Zemo left Bucky behind, embarking on an ambiguous path.
Though he often did evil—stealing relics or disrupting S.H.I.E.L.D.—Zemo and his team stood against alien invaders.
The Thunderbolts saved parallel worlds, and Zemo even posed as the star-spangled hero Citizen V.
If Zemo was here, he was using Hydra and the Frost Giants as pawns for his own ends.
The question was his goal and whether it tied to the Serpent.
Strictly speaking, in the last battle with the elder Zemo, the Red Skull had betrayed him to his death, not Su Ming.
How old was Zemo now? Fourteen? Younger?
Terrifying. Leading an army to invade Asgard at fourteen, allying with Frost Giants—it felt like a protagonist’s template.
Yet Su Ming sensed Zemo wasn’t linked to the Serpent. Destroying the Nine Realms offered him no gain, sothing the younger Zemo always avoided.
Only a mad orphan like Red Skull’s daughter would attempt such a thing.
So, the puzzle remained: with most invaders repelled and none having freed the Serpent, sothing was amiss.
phisto was hired through a deal with the Serpent, who needed to escape his seal to negotiate and offer the Destroyer Maidens as bargaining chips.
Soone had to have freed him first.
"Rest well. No need to rush back to the Rainbow Bridge," Su Ming reassured Heimdall, signaling him to lie down. He then led Frigga to a private corner for a talk.
Zemo had vanished with his army, but he’d resurface when the ti was right.
Gin had gone silent, but Ancient One would investigate the Serpent’s seal and the Hamr of Winter.
Once Beta Ray Bill confronted phisto, phisto’s forces would retreat.
Su Ming planned to find Hela, uncover her sches, and, if possible, barter for the souls of Gin’s fallen sisters.
Odin had orchestrated a murder-by-proxy, with Hela as the blade. As the true culprit, Odin held the real fault.
Su Ming suspected Gin and her sisters had uncovered so dark secret of Odin’s, prompting their silencing.
Of course, this theory stemd from Su Ming’s habitually grim mindset—his thoughts were just that dark.
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