Marvel: My Sign-in System

"Wow~~"

"What in the world..."

"Incredible, such power."

The spectators were awestruck, their exclamations filling the air. The blazing torches lit the surroundings with such intensity that the lingering frost melted away, transforming the landscape into a vast expanse of snow.

This was the legacy of Asgard's former enemies—tens of thousands of Frost Giants and Frost Behemoths.

Thor and the Avengers, excluding Sergei and Pietro, had experienced firsthand the terror these creatures brought. Their sheer numbers, combined with strength and speed that rivaled Asgardian warriors, made them formidable. With their rough skin, thick bodies, and command over frost, they were no mere opponents.

Even Thor, mighty as he was, struggled against the Frost Giants in large numbers. But thanks to the battlefield prowess of Sergei and Pietro, who together decimated 20,000 to 30,000 Frost Giants, the tide of battle turned. Without their intervention, survival—let alone victory—would have been a distant hope.

In the end, this massive army, including the Frost Giant King Laufey, capable of freezing entire worlds, was utterly annihilated.

There was no grand explosion, no blinding display of power—only the terrifyingly calm destruction of a once-great force. The simplicity of their demise was chilling, leaving an oppressive weight in the air.

The Frost Giants, who had once ruled Jotunheim and waged war against Asgard, were now nothing more than a footnote in history. Their legacy reduced to ash, they were a minor entry in Leon's burgeoning career of dominance.

The harsh reality of this world was evident: the strong take everything—glory, admiration, and power. The weak, on the other hand, are left to struggle silently, rising if they can, or perishing if they cannot.

Odin's rule over the Nine Realms was no different. Beneath Asgard's brilliance lay the bones of countless conquered races, their blood forming an ocean beneath the kingdom's iron heel.

Laufey, the Dark Elves, the Fire Demons—all had once opposed Asgard. While they had surrendered, their hatred remained, simmering through the centuries. They waited for the day Asgard's strength would wane, yearning for revenge that never came.

Leon gazed at the falling ashes in the distance, their destination unknown. The sight spurred a quiet resolve within him—a reminder of his unyielding desire to become the strongest of all.

This conviction had driven him since the day he led Wanda and the others out of their base. Laufey's demise was merely another step on his path.

After the battle, Leon turned to Wanda. His gaze, filled with reproach, made her lower her head sheepishly.

"I was wrong~~" she muttered, sticking out her tongue in mock regret.

Leon rolled his eyes and ruffled her hair. "I'll teach you a lesson when we get back."

The sky was still overcast, and heavy rain began to pour, washing away the remnants of the battle. The ground was scarred with countless craters and cracks, while Keira's fire had reduced the Frost Giants to ash—thoroughly, down to their genetic code.

Even if someone managed to collect their remains, it would be impossible to reconstruct their genes through biotechnology. Leon had no intention of underestimating Earth's scientists and their knack for creating trouble.

Wanda suddenly spoke up, her voice soft. "Leon, the Destroyer..."

She had previously stored the Destroyer armor in the Mirror Dimension. Her tone betrayed her thoughts—it was a valuable asset.

Leon smirked knowingly. "Destroy it."

"Got it~~" Wanda replied with a cheerful grin, catching his meaning immediately.

The Destroyer armor, once a symbol of Odin's power, had long since lost its significance. While its materials were exceptional and enhanced Odin's strength, the armor itself had been battle-damaged and reforged, never regaining its original glory.

Now, with Odin's sun setting, the armor was merely a relic—a weapon of diminishing importance. By Asgardian tradition, trophies of war were not returned, and Leon had no plans to break that custom.

However, an unsettling feeling gnawed at Leon. He felt as though he were being watched.

His gaze snapped to the left, and a wave of overwhelming energy erupted from his eyes.

Boom!

Far away, in the grand hall of Asgard's Palace, Loki froze. His usually pale face drained of color as cold sweat dripped down his temples.

The familiar surroundings seemed to warp. The once-majestic hall appeared inverted and chaotic, pulling Loki into a nightmarish realm.

In the swirling haze, distorted visions of cities and faces loomed, a cacophony of chaos. Then, a thunderous voice echoed, majestic and unyielding:

"There is no next time. Otherwise, you will die."

The stormy command shattered Loki's resolve, leaving him trembling. Despair gripped him as if his death was imminent.

Then, the illusion broke like a shattered mirror, and Loki found himself back in the Palace, shaken but alive.

...

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