Malrick finally made his move.
Beneath the frozen sea, Odin exhaled a long sigh of relief, his eyes closed. He had already slipped halfway into the Odin Sleep. In this state, his divine power could recover, his injuries would heal, and his life would be extended.
Though his eyes were shut, Odin could still sense the battle outside. If Malrick had refused to intervene, the weary All-Father would have been forced to risk what remained of his life against Laufey. Truthfully, Odin had no desire to waste his final years on that frostbitten tyrant.
By now, nearly a tenth of Asgard was already covered in ice. Laufey strode proudly across the frozen land as though he were walking upon Jotunheim itself. He had never felt such triumph. His greatest enemy, Odin, had fallen. His son Thor was imprisoned in ice, hovering on the edge of death.
Laufey could hardly believe it himself. He didn't understand how he had won, or why Odin had grown so weak that he could barely hold his spear steady. None of it mattered anymore. The only truth Laufey needed was that he had won. No one could oppose him now.
"So I am Ragnarok," Laufey bellowed. "The Twilight of the Gods begins with me!"
He stood atop an ice peak, the Casket of Ancient Winters glowing in his grasp. In his other hand, he conjured a massive blade of ice and raised it toward Asgard's golden palace. His ambition blazed as cold as the weapon he held.
"I am invincible! I am Eternity! From this day forward, I am the true master of the Nine Realms! The Frost Giants will rule again!"
Below him, tens of thousands of crimson eyes stared upward, and the cold hearts of the Frost Giants thundered with savage pride.
High above, Malrick floated in silence, gazing down at Laufey.
To be honest, he was tempted to mock the Frost King with lines like, Who dares call themselves invincible? Even Odin wasn't finished yet. But he stopped himself. He had no patience for theatrics.
Instead, his calm voice cut across the battlefield. "The night is clear, the sea sparkles beautifully, and Laufey—your casket is impressive, I'll give you that."
His words carried through the falling ice. The crystals quivered as though startled, and the frozen rain fell faster.
Laufey snapped his gaze upward, finding Malrick descending through the starlit sky like a meteor—silent, seamless, as if the space itself parted to let him through.
"Who are you?" Laufey snarled, quickly realizing this was no ordinary foe. Yet, with the casket in his grip, his fear was dulled. With Odin gone, only another All-Father could hope to stand against him.
"I am the Sorcerer Supreme of Midgard," Malrick said evenly. "As Odin warned, your reign ends here. The throne of the Nine Realms does not belong to Jotunheim."
He landed lightly on the ice, less than a hundred meters away.
"You would dare stop me?" Laufey's victorious grin twisted into a scowl. "Another pawn of Odin?"
"You could call it that," Malrick replied coolly. "And by the way, the casket you're clutching? Odin entrusted it to me. When you fall, you'll be leaving it behind."
Laufey's laughter was sharp and bitter. "The Casket of Ancient Winters belongs to Jotunheim! That thief Odin had no right to keep it! And you, a Midgardian? Your realm will be the first to fall after Asgard!"
He unleashed the casket's fury once again. A beam of ice-blue energy tore through the air, freezing everything in its path. Even Odin had been humbled by this power. To unleash it against a sorcerer from Midgard almost felt beneath him.
The air cracked and solidified in the ray's wake, spikes of frost bursting into existence.
"Not bad," Malrick murmured calmly. "The temperature is close to absolute zero."
The attack crawled toward him as if time itself had slowed. What Laufey considered unstoppable was, to Malrick's eyes, sluggish.
"It truly is a divine artifact," he thought, steady and analytical. "No wonder Odin required Gungnir to resist it. Even Thor, in his awakening, could have been frozen."
Malrick made a mental note—when this battle was over, he would study the casket's power. Perhaps he could unravel its principles and grasp a law of ice itself.
But first, Laufey had to be dealt with.
Malrick's eyes shifted, glowing a deep crimson. In an instant, his gaze flared like twin suns.
Two beams of blazing red light erupted from his eyes, streaking forward to meet the casket's icy torrent.
There was no deafening clash, no world-shaking explosion. Malrick's heat vision pressed against the frozen ray and simply consumed it. Inch by inch, the red beams forced the cold back, surging toward Laufey.
The Frost King's confidence shattered. His breath caught. "No, impossible! What is this power? How could the casket—"
His words were cut short.
The crimson beams pierced through the icy energy, engulfed him, and in a flash, Laufey's body was reduced to ash.
The casket clattered to the ice as Malrick appeared in its place, catching it effortlessly. He let out a small nod of satisfaction. "Excellent."
Turning slowly, his eyes still glowing red, he addressed the army of Frost Giants.
"Their king has fallen. If you value your lives, return to Jotunheim. Heimdall might be generous enough to open the bridge for you."
The giants faltered. Step by step, they retreated under his gaze.
"King... King Laufey!" one of them shouted in disbelief.
"The King is dead! Slain by a Midgardian!"
It had happened in the span of a heartbeat. One moment their king was triumphant, the next he was gone. Terror rippled through their ranks.
Even Loki, slumped before the palace, could only stare blankly. Thor, fading within the ice, blinked in shock.
On the palace terrace, the mortals of Earth watched with wide eyes. Wanda shivered and rubbed her arms, her voice barely above a whisper as she leaned toward Pietro.
"Malrick's eyes... they're terrifying when they burn red. I prefer them quiet and dark," she murmured, though a faint blush crept onto her cheeks. "Still... it makes me feel safe. And a little... breathless."
Though she tried to disguise it, Wanda couldn't deny the rush of fear and excitement that stirred in her heart.
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