Thor stood frozen as though turned to stone, his eyes filled with disbelief...
Mjolnir had shattered in Hela's grip, crumbling into splinters. The hammer that Odin had blessed with the power of thunder, the weapon that had laid low countless mighty foes, now lay in pieces at his feet, nothing more than a scattered heap of scrap.
For his unmatched bravery and martial prowess, Thor had been revered by Asgard as the God of Thunder and Strength, the mightiest warrior of the Aesir. Mjolnir was the emblem of his glory, the symbol of his triumphs and Odin's favor.
Now that the hammer lay in ruins, Thor felt as though a piece of his own heart had been torn away with it, as though the thunder itself had been extinguished, never to return.
Hela dusted off her hands, unconcerned. Her power came from Asgard itself. Even if Odin himself were resurrected, he might not be able to stop her now. What chance did Thor have, who was far from his father's equal?
To the Goddess of Death, Eitri's finest creation, the indestructible Mjolnir, meant nothing. The only thing in all of Asgard that could truly harm her was, perhaps, Odin's Spear of Heaven. That symbol of kingship forged by the dwarves as well was inscribed with runes and could pierce any substance in existence. It was a weapon of absolute might.
However Gungnir, the foremost relic of Asgard, had been buried alongside Odin.
"When I led the legions of Asgard across the Nine Realms, you had not even been born yet, Thor. Challenging me proves nothing but your courage... and your stupidity." Hela descended the steps at a measured pace.
The Asgardian warriors in the wide courtyard fell back like a retreating tide, their faces taut with fear and alarm.
This black-haired woman who called herself the Goddess of Death had already demonstrated her overwhelming power and the cold ruthlessness that came with it.
With Odin returned to the dark and Thor's hammer crushed to fragments, who was left in all of Asgard to stop her?
"Still unwilling to submit?" Hela studied Thor, who stood reeling from the blow. For this obstinate younger brother of hers, she did not mind exercising a little more patience, "I know about you, Thor. You are the strongest warrior in Asgard, renowned for your valor and battle-tested skill. Compared to my other brother, Loki, I find you far more to my liking. After the Bifrost was broken, it was you who led the Asgardian legions to quell the uprisings across the Nine Realms. When the Dark Elves awoke, it was you who stood against Malekith... Thor, you are just like me! Born for war and conquest!"
Hela extended her hand from across the courtyard. A smile, cold but almost warm, touched her pale features, "Come. Stand beside me. You have earned the right to rule Asgard at my side, to go forth and fight for me, conquering civilization after civilization!"
Thor's mouth opened. His handsome, battle-hardened face was clouded with hesitation. The blows had come one after another too fast, too heavy. He felt lost.
Odin, the father he had worshipped, was gone from this world. His mother, Frigga, had perished during the Mad Titan's invasion. His brother Loki was lost somewhere out in the endless dark of the cosmos. And Mjolnir, his companion through countless battles, had been crushed to dust in Hela's hand.
If a man's fate could be compared to a story, Thor's was a tragedy with every page soaked in sorrow.
He stared down at his empty hands, his mind adrift. But then his father's kindly face rose from the depths of memory, and the All-Father's commanding voice seemed to echo in his ears once more: "You are destined to be the King of Asgard, to lead your people toward a lasting and honorable peace. This is the duty you were born to carry!"
Flickers of lightning began to dance across Thor's palms. He raised his head, the bewildered haze in his eyes igniting with the crackle of a gathering storm...
"My answer remains the same," he said, "I can't do that."
"Fools are always so stubborn." Hela shook her head with a disappointed sigh. A black blade hummed in the air, then shot forward like a bolt of dark lightning.
Though Thor no longer had Mjolnir in his hand, he didn't intend to simply surrender. He twisted away from the blade, snatched a spear from a guard behind him, and strode toward Hela like a Spartan who had long forgotten the meaning of fear.
"Our father said a wise king never starts a war..." Thor launched himself into the air, spear raised high, and plunged downward like a hawk stooping on its prey, "...but he must always be ready to fight one!"
Hela tilted her head, the thorn-like black crown shifting with the motion. Two ebony blades crossed above her and caught the descending spear with effortless ease.
She had once annihilated the entire Valkyrie legion singlehandedly. Compared to her, Thor's battle experience was that of a raw recruit.
"Your movements are so obvious, that even a blind man could read them."
A black blade flicked out like a serpent's tongue, slicing across Thor's chest and carving a deep, bone-baring wound.
Hela moved with the unhurried elegance of a dancer at a royal ball, her composure unshaken.
Her brother was a brawler, a roaring berserker whose fighting style was crude and straightforward. Against a foe of equal strength, Thor's relentless ferocity and sheer grit might eventually carry the day.
But this time, he had gone up against Hela, the ruthless and unpredictable Goddess of Death. Before her, his headlong charges looked clumsy and desperate. Without the power of Mjolnir to back him, Thor quickly found himself outmatched, barely holding on as blow after blow landed.
"I truly wonder what Odin was thinking... that he believed you to be better than me, more fit to be king..." Rage flickered in Hela's eyes. A blade slashed across Thor's right leg, and with a sharp backhand she drove him to the ground, "You thought you were special? Laughable!"
The thorn-like black crown dissolved, her hair falling straight and long. Hela planted her boot on Thor's head, pressing his powerful frame hard against the stone steps, "Let me tell you the difference between us; I am Odin's firstborn, the rightful heir. I am the Queen of Asgard! And you... you are nothing."
*Thud!*
A heavy, sickening impact echoed as Thor was kicked across the courtyard like a sandbag, crashing hard onto the stone.
The prince whom Asgard revered as a god of war could do nothing but absorb the relentless onslaught, utterly helpless.
Hela stared at him with disgust as he struggled to his feet. A black blade rose high, then slashed down without a shred of mercy.
A cry of agony split the air. The world before Thor's eyes went dark. Blood spilled from his eye socket, soaking half his face.
Blinded in one eye by Hela's blade and the searing pain crashing over his brain, Thor sank to his knees. He gasped for breath, waiting for death to come.
"Since Odin was so fond of you, I may as well send you to join him." Hela's voice was languid, as if she were discussing a matter of little consequence. Blood ties and kinship held no great weight in her heart.
The black blade rose high, poised to deliver the final blow, but a surge of energy erupted, and a brilliant column of light enveloped Thor where he knelt.
Hela whirled toward the Bifrost in fury. Heimdall, having abandoned his post, stood gripping his greatsword in both hands. At his feet lay Skurge, unconscious.
The Keeper of the Bridge had intervened at the critical moment and saved Thor when he stood at death's door...
"This is all I can do for you." Heimdall let out a heavy sigh.
The surging energy swallowed Thor whole. A colossal pillar of light that seemed to pierce through the Nine Realms itself tore into the sky.
When the blinding radiance finally dimmed and vanished, Thor was gone from the courtyard's center.
Hela watched the Asgardian legions gathering around her and laughed coldly, her green cape billowing in the wind. Behind her, an endless swarm of black blades materialized from the empty air.
What followed was a feast of death...