GreekGreenGlass
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C274
🕑 Added 2025-02-03 04:53:19 +0000 UTCNOTE: The goddess of strength turned out to be Sif like I thought. That will be edited. Sorry about that.
...
Roar!!
An earth-shaking roar echoed throughout Muspelheim.
The world trembled violently. Massive icicles, each spanning hundreds of thousands of kilometers in diameter, shattered under an immense force. Ice shards scattered across the sky, and ice boulders of all sizes were sent hurtling in all directions. Like the collapse of a great structure, the towering icicles crumbled, their impact shaking the ground with deafening vibrations.
Hundreds of thousands of kilometers away, Thor, the gods, Wanda, Natasha, and others watched the spectacle in stunned silence.
Within that terrifying roar, they could hear anger, hatred, and despair.
All eyes were on Leon, floating amidst the falling ice shards. His left hand was outstretched, an ominous eternal flame burning in his palm. In his right hand, he held Surtur, who had been forcibly reduced to a mere two-meter-tall figure. The fire giant's blood-red pupils burned with agony and hatred as he struggled in Leon's grip.
The scene before them seemed frozen in time. Leon's tall, imposing figure stood unshaken, his broken hair swaying with the icy winds. He gripped the mighty being that even Asgard itself feared—a moment of mythic grandeur, as though carved by the hands of an immortal sculptor. It was an image destined to be etched into legend, an indelible memory for Thor and the gods.
"Unbelievable," murmured Sif, the goddess of strength, her voice filled with shock.
The other gods pursed their lips, unable to find words. They had all faced Surtur and experienced his overwhelming strength firsthand. The fire giant was a near-invincible force of destruction.
Yet, Leon had simply pulled him from the eternal flame and subdued him with ease.
Surtur, the feared ruler of Muspelheim, had been rendered powerless once more.
How strong did one have to be to accomplish this?
This was completely different from what they had expected. They had braced for a long, hard-fought war, yet Leon had ended the battle as effortlessly as an artist drawing a single brushstroke.
Could even Odin, the All-Father, achieve such a feat?
The gods had always believed in Odin's power, yet an unavoidable doubt crept into their minds.
Could Leon have surpassed Odin?
The thought flickered in Thor's mind—and in the minds of the gods.
Natasha, Wanda, and the others did not dwell on such questions. To them, there was no need for comparison. They simply stood in awe of Leon's strength.
Natasha, Wanda, and Sergei had followed Leon since childhood, escaping together from the hellish experimental base where they had been imprisoned. They had grown stronger alongside him, standing at his side through countless battles.
And yet, somewhere along the way, they had realized a painful truth—Leon had long since surpassed them.
Once, they had believed they could keep up with him. Now, except for Wanda, the rest could no longer even see his shadow.
Leon had never shown his full power. Even now, as he faced the fearsome Surtur, they had no idea what method he had used to strip the fire giant of his strength.
But there was no envy among them—only pride.
Leon was not just their leader—he was their family.
He was the captain, and they were his loyal crew, striving to follow his path.
For Natasha and Wanda, who stood closest to him, Leon's strength only made them prouder, happier, and more secure.
Leon himself remained oblivious to their thoughts. His focus was locked on Surtur, who glared at him with burning rage and hatred.
"Who are you?!"
Surtur's furious roar shook the air. He had regained his power, once again filled with the intoxicating joy of vengeance. His hatred, festering for hundreds of thousands of years, was finally about to be unleashed upon Asgard.
And then—this man had appeared.
This man had taken it all away.
Only Surtur could comprehend the depths of his fury.
"According to your understanding," Leon said, his voice calm, "I come from Midgard."
"Midgard?!" Surtur's blood-red eyes narrowed. "That backward realm birthed someone like you?"
He clenched his teeth, his mind racing. He had already suspected the origins of Natasha, Wanda, and the others. Now, his suspicions were confirmed. Yet, alongside his rage, there was a deep confusion.
Midgard—a lowly, primitive world—had produced warriors whose strength rivaled that of the Asgardian gods.
And now, it had birthed a monster capable of stripping him of his power with a mere gesture.
It was unthinkable.
Surtur's mind shifted. He had been bested, but he was not foolish. If brute force would not win the battle, then cunning would.
"If you come from Midgard," Surtur said, his tone shifting, "then you should know that Asgard has ruled over your world for centuries. Under their iron rule, countless lives have been crushed.
"Have you never considered overthrowing them?"
"With your strength, we could destroy Asgard together."
"We could rule the Nine Realms side by side. I would even submit to you."
Surtur was no mindless brute. He knew when to fight—and when to manipulate. His power had been stripped from him, and in his current state, he was no match for Leon. So he sought another path—temptation, division.
To an ordinary man, his offer would have been irresistible.
To gain an ally of Surtur's power—one who could challenge Odin himself—would be an unimaginable advantage.
But Leon was not an ordinary man.
For Leon, only children make choices. He would take everything.
Why would he need to destroy Asgard?
And even if he did, Asgard was far from weak.
In truth, Asgard's strength surpassed most imaginations. Its true power lay not only in its warriors but in the Hall of Valhalla.
The Hall of Valhalla accepted the souls of fallen Asgardians, allowing them to persist in another form. Since the dawn of Asgard, this sacred hall had accumulated countless warriors and gods.
Each fallen Asgardian was a mighty force in their own right.
Over eons, the Hall of Valhalla had become a realm of slumbering titans.
No one knew how many ancient beings rested there.
At least one thing was certain—among them were many gods of Odin's caliber.
Ordinarily, they remained within the hall, unseen and unheard.
But if Asgard ever faced true annihilation, they would emerge.
They would tear apart anything that threatened their realm.
Even the Infinity Stones could not bypass the rules that bound the Hall of Valhalla.
That alone spoke of Asgard's terrifying foundation.
And Leon had no intention of provoking it.
So Surtur's offer?
It was nothing more than a desperate gamble.
One that Leon had already seen through.
