Marvel: Silver Hand

The fires of Nidavellir burned hot as Alexander walked through the colossal forges of the dwarves. The ground trembled beneath his feet as molten rivers of metal flowed through deep channels carved into the earth, glowing like streams of liquid starlight.

Above him, massive gears turned, churning the bellows of the forge, feeding the Godmaker Forge, the same forge that had once created Mjolnir, and countless weapons of legend. The air was thick with heat and the scent of burning metal, but Alexander was unbothered—the fire welcomed him, just as it always had.

Alexander had fought alongside Thor and the Asgardians to put down Sindri's rebellion. Now, he had returned to Nidavellir for what he had come here to do—forge the ultimate armor.

Eitri, King of the Dwarves, stood beside him, stroking his thick beard as he eyed Alexander with amusement. "You're just like your ancestor, boy. Eldrborinn was obsessed with smithing too. Wouldn't let anyone else touch his work."

Alexander rolled his shoulders, already thinking ahead. "This armor needs to be indestructible, able to withstand anything. I'll be forging it myself."

Eitri laughed, his voice like grinding stone. "You want to work my forge yourself? Hah! You've got fire in your blood, lad. I'll let you, but don't disappoint me."

The other dwarves muttered amongst themselves as Alexander approached the Uru ingots, stacked like sacred treasures. The metal shimmered like solidified lightning, cold and heavy in its raw form. It would take a god's strength and skill to forge it properly.

"Then let's begin."

The Godmaker Forge Awakens

Eitri activated the forge, and the cavernous chamber shook as a star burned at its heart. Flames roared, hotter than any forge in the Nine Realms, enough to reduce ordinary beings to ash in seconds. The heat melted stone like wax, yet Alexander stood unaffected, his body absorbing the fire's energy.

"This forge…" Celebrimbor spoke in his mind. "It is even greater than the forges of Middle-earth. You could craft something beyond imagination here."

Alexander cracked his neck. "Then let's get started."

With Turann, his wraith hammer, in hand, Alexander raised it high and brought it crashing down on the first Uru ingot.

A shockwave of divine energy rippled through the forge. The metal screamed under the impact, sending sparks flying in all directions. The sound echoed like thunder, shaking the very foundations of Nidavellir.

The dwarves watched in awe as Alexander worked tirelessly, hammering the Uru, shaping it, binding his divine fire and wraith energy into the metal itself.

For three straight weeks, he did not sleep. He did not rest.

Each strike of his hammer infused the armor with raw power.Each blow burned his will into the very essence of the metal.Each hour, the armor took form, becoming something more than just protection—it became an extension of himself.

The dwarves whispered among themselves.

"This is no ordinary forging…"

"This is creation."

Eitri watched silently, stroking his beard. "He's not just forging armor. He's making a legacy."

When the forging was complete, Alexander stepped back, breathing heavily. Before him, glowing with an unholy radiance, was a suit of armor unlike anything the realms had ever seen.

The chestplate was solid Uru, cracked with molten fissures as if it had been torn from the heart of a supernova.

The gauntlets were thick and clawed, crackling with fire. its fingers could crush mountains.

The helmet bore 6 spikes on the top of its head, its burning eyes making Alexander look like a demon of war incarnate.

The shoulder pauldrons bore the snarling faces of beasts, glowing with internal fire.

A flowing red-and-black cloak trailed behind him, made of burning fabric and smoke.

The leg armor and greaves were jagged and sharp, reinforced with glowing volcanic runes.

It was godly. It was terrifying. It was perfect.

Eitri and the dwarves stared in awe.

"This…" Eitri muttered. "This isn't just armor. It's an artifact."

But Alexander wasn't done.

Even as he admired his work, something felt incomplete. The armor was strong, but it could be more.

"I need to finish it in Eldrborinn's realm," Alexander said.

Eitri raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Do what you must, lad. But be careful. The magic of that place is wild and ancient."

Alexander opened a portal and stepped through.

The moment he arrived at the great volcano, he felt the power of the land surge through him.

Fire erupted. The volcano trembled.

He placed the armor upon the ancient anvil at the summit. Calling upon the power of Eldrborinn's realm, he let the flames surge into the armor, binding it with Muspelheim's lost fire.

The Uru absorbed the magic perfectly, adapting, growing even stronger. The armor became more than just indestructible—it became a conduit of divine fire itself.

It burned with the strength of dying suns.It radiated power that made the very air tremble.

Alexander felt the armor's energy settle into him. He no longer needed to wear it physically—he could summon it at will, just as he did with Eldhringr.

Celebrimbor was silent for a long moment. Then he finally spoke.

"This is one of your greatest creations yet."

Alexander smirked, then vanished back through the portal.

Back in Nidavellir, Eitri waited patiently. The moment Alexander reappeared, the dwarf king grinned.

"Now let's put that armor to the test."

Eitri grabbed a massive warhammer made of the best steel in Nidavellir and swung it at Alexander with all his might.

The hammer struck Alexander's chestplate… and melted on impact.

The gathered dwarves gasped.

Eitri let out a booming laugh. "By the gods! almost no metal in existence can harm you now!"

Alexander smirked. "Good. Then I'll be ready for whatever comes next."

Satisfied, Eitri led Alexander into the royal vaults of Nidavellir, where a massive chest of Uru metal awaited him.

"A gift," Eitri said. "For the God of Fire and Smithing."

Alexander bowed his head in gratitude. "I won't forget this."

But before he left, one last question lingered.

"There was an amulet I found in a chest," Alexander said. "What do you know about it?"

At the mention of the amulet, Eitri's expression darkened.

"That amulet…" he muttered. "Was the last thing Eldrborinn ever forged before Odin banished him. A cursed artifact, a relic of his ambition, his madness."

Alexander clenched his fists. More secrets. More burdens.

Without another word, he stored the Uru chest in Eldrborinn's realm, ensuring it was safe.

Then, calling upon Heimdall, he stepped onto the Bifrost.

It was time to return to Asgard.