The undead legions might not be invincible in the traditional sense, but their relentless nature and resistance to conventional destruction made them a strategic nightmare that even space-level forces struggled to counter effectively.
"Given all of that," Volstagg rumbled, his usually jovial demeanor replaced by grim tactical assessment, "who among us possesses the power to actually stop Hela?"
The question hung in the air like a funeral shroud, highlighting the uncomfortable truth that none of them wanted to acknowledge. Despite their collective experience and hard-won victories, the situation seemed to be spiraling beyond their ability to influence, while they remained frustratingly helpless to change the trajectory of space events.
"Hela rules Helheim by birthright and ancient compact," the disguised Malekith explained with careful authority, drawing upon knowledge that few beings outside the death realms possessed. "Once she reaches her domain and claims her throne, that dimension's accumulated power will flow through her like a river of liquid night. Every soul who has ever died dishonorably will kneel before her command."
He paused deliberately, letting the implications sink in before offering the bait that would guide their thinking toward his desired conclusions.
"But such dominion isn't necessarily permanent," Malekith continued with the tone of someone revealing a carefully guarded secret. "There are... alternatives."
"Such as?" Steve Rogers leaned forward with the focused attention of a strategist recognizing a potential breakthrough.
"Someone could claim the mantle of Death itself," Malekith replied, his words carrying ominous weight. "Usurp her authority through conquest of the death realms themselves."
Peter Parker's hand shot up with the eager enthusiasm of a student who'd spotted an opportunity to demonstrate his knowledge. "Wait, becoming a God? Is that something you can just decide to do? I always thought you were either born divine or you weren't—so what kind of God could I become?"
He sat straighter in his chair, clearly hoping for praise or acknowledgment of his perceptive question, but the adults around the table were too focused on strategic implications to indulge his curiosity.
Thor's expression grew thoughtful as he considered the theological complexities involved. "The relationship between power and divinity isn't always straightforward. Most of the time, our inherent abilities determine what divine aspects we can embody, but transformation between roles does occur under extraordinary circumstances."
His gaze found the figure he believed to be Loki, unaware that he was addressing his greatest enemy. "Consider my brother's recent experience—when he lifted Mjolnir and channeled the power of thunder, he temporarily became the God of Thunder himself. If circumstances hadn't prevented his coronation ceremony, he would have ascended to become a true God-King."
The words carried a weight of loss that seemed to press down on Thor's shoulders like a physical burden. "Now the hammer lies in pieces, and Asgard burns under our sister's reign."
The raw pain in his voice drew sympathetic glances from around the table, but none more so than from Peter, whose innate compassion couldn't bear to see such suffering without attempting to help.
"Hey, it's not completely gone," Peter offered with characteristic optimism, though his tone grew increasingly uncertain as he continued. "I mean, all the pieces are still there, right? Maybe with some kind of super-strong space glue or... uh... okay, forget I said anything."
He visibly deflated as he realized how inadequate his suggestion sounded, his face reddening with embarrassment at making light of such a profound loss.
But Thor's head snapped up with sudden intensity, his eyes blazing with the first genuine hope anyone had seen from him since the evacuation from Asgard.
"No—you're absolutely right!" Thor's voice carried renewed vigor as possibilities began crystallizing in his mind. "If Mjolnir can be reforged, then redemption becomes possible!"
The transformation in his demeanor was so dramatic that several team members exchanged glances of surprise and concern. Moments earlier, he'd been the picture of dejected defeat—now he radiated determination that bordered on manic.
Brunnhilde's expression soured as she recognized the return of Thor's hammer-obsession. "First," she said with the patient tone of someone explaining obvious problems to a child, "without access to stellar forges, Mjolnir cannot be properly recast. The Uru steel has been infused with divine enchantments that make it incredibly resistant to conventional metallurgy."
Her second point carried even more devastating logic. "And even if you managed to restore the weapon somehow, what exactly would that accomplish? We'd still face the same fundamental problem—none of us can match Hela's power level."
"Solar core energy might provide sufficient heat for the reforging process," Thor mused aloud, his tactical mind already working through the engineering challenges involved.
"And who exactly plans to venture into the heart of a star?" Brunnhilde's sarcasm was sharp enough to cut through vibranium.
"I will," Thor declared with absolute conviction, his voice carrying the weight of someone who'd already made peace with the likely consequences of such a mission.
Brunnhilde's skepticism regarding the hammer's reconstruction was valid, but she'd identified only half of Thor's strategic thinking. He understood perfectly well that simply restoring Mjolnir wouldn't bridge the power gap between himself and Hela. But the weapon's return would represent something more valuable than raw strength—it would restore his connection to the divine aspects of his nature that had been severed along with his worthiness.
"I understand what you're suggesting," Thor said quietly, looking down at his hands where blue electricity danced between his fingers like captured lightning. "Ever since I proved worthy to lift Mjolnir again, the power of thunder has returned to me. Even with the hammer's destruction, this aspect of my divinity remains intact."
His voice grew heavy with the weight of inadequacy. "But against Hela, even the full power of the Thunder God falls pathetically short."
This brutal self-assessment had been eating away at Thor's confidence since their escape from Asgard. For years, he'd believed that regaining his divine thunder would make him capable of facing any threat—that not even Thanos at his peak could stand against a fully awakened God of Thunder.
Recent events had shattered that comfortable delusion completely.
Even gods had enemies they couldn't overcome through strength alone.
"I need to become more than I was," Thor declared, his voice growing stronger as resolve crystallized into purpose. "Mjolnir requires reforging regardless of my personal worthiness—at least four people in this room have demonstrated the ability to wield it properly."
His gaze swept across Steve Rogers, Peter Parker, and the figure he thought was Loki, unaware that his trust was being placed in an elaborate deception.
"As for confronting Hela directly..." Thor paused as if steeling himself for something distasteful but necessary. "I have a potential solution. Since the God of Thunder cannot defeat the Goddess of Death, perhaps I need to become a different kind of deity entirely."
The room fell silent as everyone processed the implications of his words.
"I'll travel to Helheim and Niflheim," Thor announced with the finality of someone crossing a point of no return. "I'll challenge Hela's authority over the death realms themselves. Perhaps only Death can truly battle Death on equal terms."
The suggestion had come from Malekith's careful manipulation, but Thor had embraced it as his own strategic inspiration. If Hela drew power from commanding the underworld legions, then logically he could pursue the same advantage through conquest of the death realms she hadn't yet claimed.
Hela might be the Goddess of Death, but her control over every aspect of the afterlife wasn't absolute—particularly after millennia of imprisonment had weakened her connection to domains she couldn't actively rule.
The possibility existed that Helheim and Niflheim had changed significantly during her absence, creating opportunities for someone bold enough to seize them.
But Thor's words triggered immediate alarm among the Asgardian contingent, who understood the cultural and spiritual implications of what he was suggesting far better than their Earth-born allies.
"Thor, have you lost your mind completely?!" Fandral's normally composed demeanor cracked as he shot to his feet with genuine horror.
"Do you comprehend what you're proposing?!" Hogun's weathered features twisted with dismay as the full scope of Thor's plan became clear.
Volstagg's massive form dominated the table as he leaned forward, his voice carrying the gravity of someone delivering a funeral oration. "While Hela's dominion over Helheim may have weakened during her imprisonment, the Crown of Death in that realm remains firmly upon her head. If you seek to become a death deity, your only option would be claiming lordship over Niflheim instead."
"Then that's exactly what I'll do," Thor replied without hesitation, his jaw set with determination that brooked no argument. "I'll become the God of Death for Niflheim."
Even Malekith found himself genuinely surprised by the depth of Thor's commitment to such a spiritually destructive path. "Perhaps you should reconsider this course of action more carefully. The undead who populate Niflheim represent the dishonored dead—souls who died in shame, cowardice, or betrayal. For someone of your noble standing to rule over such beings would be... spiritually degrading."
The observation carried weight that went beyond simple status considerations. In Asgardian culture, becoming lord of the dishonored dead represented a fundamental corruption of one's divine nature—a stain that could never be cleansed or forgotten.
None of the Warriors Three wanted to see their prince reduced to such a role, even if tactical necessity seemed to demand it. Despite Mjolnir's destruction and Asgard's fall, they maintained absolute faith that Thor remained the rightful heir to Odin's legacy.
"What I need now isn't spiritual purity," Thor declared with the voice of someone who'd finally understood the true weight of leadership. "I need the power to destroy Hela and end the chaos consuming the Nine Realms. An empty throne means nothing if there's no kingdom left to rule."
His words carried an authority that none of them had heard from him before—not the arrogant demands of a spoiled prince, but the grim resolve of a true king who understood that duty sometimes required terrible sacrifices.
"I finally understand what genuine kingship demands and what a ruler must be willing to become."
The transformation in Thor's character was so profound that none of his old friends knew how to argue against it. This wasn't the impulsive warrior they'd followed into countless battles—this was someone who'd learned to see beyond personal glory to the greater responsibilities of leadership.
Before anyone could formulate a response, Ben's voice cut through the tension like a blade through silk.
"In that case, you can leave the hammer's reconstruction to me."
Every head in the room turned toward the doorway where Ben Parker stood with casual confidence, his presence immediately shifting the entire dynamic of their discussion. The senior Plumbers—Caiera, Brunnhilde, and others—rose to their feet with military precision.
"Chief, welcome back!" Caiera's voice carried both relief and respect as she offered a formal salute.
"Ben!" Peter's enthusiastic greeting cut through the formal atmosphere as he bounded up from his chair with characteristic energy.
Ben acknowledged the Earth heroes first, his manner reflecting the more egalitarian relationship they shared as branch members rather than the quasi-religious reverence he received from Sakaar's population. The distinction was subtle but important—it kept him grounded in human connections despite his space responsibilities.
Thor felt a surge of hope that he hadn't experienced since before Asgard's fall. Something about Ben's presence made the impossible seem merely difficult, the hopeless seem merely challenging.
Caiera had been preparing to inquire about the Infinity Stone recovery mission's success, but her attention was diverted by the additional figures entering behind Ben and Nebula.
"Who is she?" Caiera asked, though Thor's reaction answered her question before any explanation could be offered.
"You!" Thor's voice carried recognition and accusation in equal measure. "You're the one who stole the Aether particles!"
Gamora offered a helpless shrug that somehow managed to convey both guilt and defiance. "That's... accurate, technically."
With the Reality Stone successfully extracted from her cellular structure by Ben's Anodite powers, Eunice. had taken custody of the artifact for integration into their larger plans. Gamora's presence at Plumber headquarters served a different purpose—addressing the spiritual contamination left behind by Thanos's forced possession.
When Malekith heard the words "Aether particles," his entire body tensed with barely suppressed excitement. His gaze shifted between Gamora and Ben as the implications became clear.
"So the Aether particles have indeed fallen into Plumber hands," he thought with a mixture of hunger and calculation. "The artifact is most likely in Ben Parker's direct possession now. Acquiring it will require... creativity."
But there was no need for hasty action. Patience had served him well for millennia—a little longer wouldn't matter.
"I was planning to venture into a star's core to reforge Mjolnir myself," Thor was saying to Ben, his voice carrying the weight of someone prepared for a suicidal mission.
"That won't be necessary," Ben replied with casual dismissal, as if the destruction and recreation of legendary artifacts was routine maintenance. "Heatblast's enhanced flames should provide sufficient heat for the reforging process. I have Odin to thank for providing the Eternal Flame—using it to restore your hammer seems like appropriate reciprocity."
Thor's hands clenched into fists as renewed possibility blazed through his consciousness like wildfire.
"In that case, I should depart for Niflheim immediately," he declared with urgent purpose. "I must claim Niflheim's Crown of Death before Hela can add it to her collection!"
"Don't you want to wait for Mjolnir's restoration?" Peter asked with genuine curiosity, unable to understand why anyone would abandon such a powerful weapon voluntarily.
"No," Thor shook his head, his expression carrying the weight of profound loss. "Once I become lord of Niflheim and don the Crown of the Dishonored Dead, I'll no longer be worthy to lift it."
The spiritual corruption involved in ruling over shame and cowardice would fundamentally alter his divine nature, making him incompatible with Mjolnir's enchantments that demanded moral worthiness from their wielder.
He turned to Peter and Steve with solemn ceremony, his voice carrying the weight of someone passing on a sacred trust. "I witnessed both of you lift the hammer in Asgard's final hours. When Mjolnir is restored, you'll have the right and responsibility to wield it in battle."
Thor's eagerness to begin his dark transformation was palpable, but Ben paused in contemplation, his expression suggesting deeper considerations were at work.
"Niflheim's Crown of Death..." Ben mused aloud, his tone carrying speculative interest. "That sounds like something that might enhance Ghostfreak's abilities significantly."
Ever since discovering that different space experiences could dramatically upgrade his alien transformations—turning Heatblast into a stellar god and Four Arms into a space overlord—Ben had been actively seeking similar enhancement opportunities for his other forms.
Among the original ten transformations, several still operated at relatively basic power levels despite their utility. If the Crown of Death could elevate Ghostfreak to truly space significance...
"I'm somewhat interested in Niflheim's Crown myself," Ben announced, his decision crystallizing as he spoke. "Since becoming a death deity would be spiritually destructive for you, perhaps I should take on that burden instead."
Thor found himself caught between relief and guilt, his desire to avoid spiritual corruption warring with his sense that he should bear the costs of his own plans.
But Ben's next words addressed his concerns directly. "I understand your hunger for the power to face Hela, Thor, but death magic isn't the right path for your development. I spoke with Odin before his... departure. He believed you had the potential to become a greater king than he ever was."
Ben's hand fell on Thor's shoulder with paternal warmth. "You've already demonstrated the wisdom necessary for true leadership. Don't compromise that growth by pursuing power that would corrupt your essential nature."
The gesture carried weight beyond simple encouragement—it represented faith from someone whose judgment Thor had learned to trust absolutely.
"I honestly don't know what path remains open to me," Thor admitted with the vulnerability of someone whose entire worldview had been repeatedly shattered.
At that moment, Malekith recognized his opportunity to guide events toward his desired outcome.
"I know exactly what you should be doing," the disguised Dark Elf announced, rising from his seat with theatrical timing that immediately drew everyone's attention.
The manipulation had been carefully orchestrated from the beginning. Malekith had always known that Loki was likely serving as a Plumber spy, just as he'd suspected Psyphon's true loyalties lay elsewhere. But rather than seeing these deceptions as obstacles, he'd chosen to exploit them as opportunities.
Now, with the King of Sakaar directly before him and his Loki impersonation providing perfect credibility, he could deliver intelligence that would serve his larger strategic goals.
"I gathered extensive intelligence during my infiltration of Malekith's forces," he began, establishing his credentials while carefully avoiding any details that might contradict what the real Loki might have discovered. "The situation is more complex than we initially understood."
"Malekith has been attempting to conquer both death realms for quite some time, but hasn't achieved complete success. However, his efforts have revealed the true nature of the obstacles involved."
Malekith's fabricated intelligence would serve multiple purposes—providing useful tactical information that enhanced his credibility while subtly directing Plumber resources away from areas where his deception might be exposed.
"Niflheim's previous ruler was Balder, but he lost his authority ages ago," Malekith continued with the confidence of someone sharing verified intelligence. "The Crown of Death was subsequently divided into six fragments, each claimed by powerful entities who became known as the Six Lords of the Underworld."
He paused deliberately, allowing anticipation to build before delivering the revelation that would reshape Thor's understanding of his own family.
"Incidentally," Malekith added with casual malice, "Balder is also one of Odin's sons." His gaze fixed on Thor with barely concealed amusement. "You were never the eldest prince, Thor."
"I... never knew," Thor whispered, his voice carrying the shell-shocked tone of someone whose fundamental assumptions about reality kept proving false.
"Odin believed Balder was dead," Malekith continued with manufactured sympathy, "and to be fair, the prince has been missing for millennia. My intelligence indicates that Malekith has already conquered two of the underworld lords and claimed their crown fragments—one-third of the total power."
Ben nodded thoughtfully, recognizing the tactical value of this information for anyone seeking to claim the Crown of Death for themselves. Understanding the political landscape of Niflheim would be crucial for successful infiltration and conquest.
"Then we need to move quickly," Thor declared with renewed urgency. "If Malekith already controls a third of the crown fragments, the remaining lords might not be able to resist much longer. We can't allow him to achieve complete dominion over the death realms."
"No, no, no—that's not your mission," Malekith interrupted with the authority of someone revealing a crucial strategic priority.
"Thor, what you need to do is rescue our sister."
Thor's expression went blank as his mind struggled to process words that seemed to defy logical interpretation.
"What did you just say?" The question emerged slowly, as if Thor was giving his linguistic centers time to confirm they'd heard correctly.
"Why would I rescue Hela?" Thor's voice carried the bewildered tone of someone being asked to embrace their own executioner. "Did you forget that she tried to murder all of us?"
"I wasn't referring to Hela," Malekith replied with a smile that carried entirely too much satisfaction.
"Who else could you possibly—" Thor's words cut off abruptly as the impossible implication began to dawn on him. "Wait. You're not seriously suggesting that we have..."
"Yes," Malekith confirmed with obvious relish. "We have another sister."
The revelation hit Thor like a physical blow, his hands rising to cover his face as the latest impossible family revelation crashed through his consciousness.
"She doesn't want to kill us too, does she?" Thor's voice carried the desperate hope of someone who'd already absorbed too many betrayals.
Throughout this entire ordeal, Thor felt as though his fundamental understanding of reality had been systematically demolished and rebuilt multiple times over. The brother who'd been his constant friend for over a millennium wasn't actually his biological sibling. Siblings he'd never heard of kept emerging from space obscurity, and at least one of them had made murdering him a personal priority.
His entire existence felt like an elaborate space joke whose punchline remained perpetually beyond his comprehension.
"How many children does Odin actually have?!" Thor's voice cracked with equal parts frustration and genuine mystification as he stared at the ceiling as if demanding answers from the universe itself.