In the ashen woodlands of Niflheim, reality rippled like disturbed water as Ben and Wanda materialized through dimensional transit, their forms solidifying against a backdrop of perpetual twilight and supernatural dread.
The surrounding landscape embodied death's most unwelcoming aspects—skeletal trees twisted into tortured shapes that resembled grasping claws, their bark blackened by millennia of despair. No life stirred among the branches; even the silence felt oppressive, as if the very air had been drained of hope and possibility.
"So this is Niflheim," Wanda observed, her voice barely above a whisper as she studied their nightmarish surroundings. "The final destination for the dishonored dead."
Thick fog rolled between the lifeless trunks like ghostly serpents, creating an atmosphere where spectral apparitions might emerge at any moment to drag unwary visitors into eternal torment. Every shadow seemed to writhe with malevolent intent, and the ground beneath their feet felt soft with the accumulated ashes of countless failed souls.
Ben had originally planned to complete Mjolnir's reforging before venturing into the death realm, but the escalating conflict between Dark Elves and Hela wouldn't wait for their convenience. Besides, properly reconstructing Thor's hammer required more than just extreme heat—the process demanded dwarven craftsmanship and techniques that only King Eitri and his people possessed.
Instead, he'd established a temporary solution by placing the Eternal Flame in the depths of Sakaar's Great Maw. The massive crater that had once housed the planet's gladiatorial execution site now served as an improvised stellar forge, its connection to Sakaar's molten core creating temperatures that could melt even Uru steel.
Once Beta Ray Bill returned with the surviving dwarves, Mjolnir's reconstruction could begin immediately using the flame Odin had provided.
"Stay alert," Ben warned as they began their cautious exploration of the twisted forest. "Even though Niflheim's Crown of Death has been fragmented, each piece still contains immense power. And once Hela consolidates her control over Helheim, she'll inevitably turn her attention here."
While Ben felt confident about their chances in direct confrontation, this mission served a dual purpose—he wanted to provide Wanda with practical experience against space-level threats.
Scarlet Witch possessed unlimited potential for growth, and the stronger she became, the more powerful the Mana feedback she provided to his Genesis dimension would be. Combat experience against genuine opponents would accelerate her development far more effectively than any training simulation.
Wanda nodded with determination, her hands already beginning to glow with crimson energy as they moved deeper into the haunted landscape.
But before they could advance more than a few steps, the forest itself revealed its malevolent nature. What they'd taken for ordinary dead trees suddenly opened hollow, glowing eyes along their trunks, while gaps in their bark split wide to reveal rows of needle-sharp teeth.
"What are these things?" Wanda instinctively moved closer to Ben, her usual fearlessness temporarily overcome by primal unease.
She'd faced space tyrants, dimensional entities, and reality-warping madmen without flinching, but something about these fairy-tale nightmares triggered deep-seated childhood fears that rational thought couldn't entirely suppress.
"Don't worry," Ben replied with casual confidence. "Just destroy them."
His expectations for Scarlet Witch's development included eventually being capable of dismantling beings like Thanos with her bare hands and eliminating entire multiversal organizations through pure force of will. The enemies he'd brought her to face in Niflheim were at minimum the six Lords of the Underworld—space entities who commanded death magic on a planetary scale.
These animated trees barely qualified as minor obstacles rather than genuine opponents.
If he'd brought Heatblast instead, a single Death-Fire blast would have reduced the entire forest to ash and vapor. But that would have eliminated any training value for Wanda, and he was curious to test one of his other transformations in actual combat.
Ben activated the Omnitrix with deliberate purpose, green light cascading around his form as his human appearance dissolved and reformed into something entirely different.
"That's not Ghostfreak," Wanda observed with confusion as the transformation completed.
She recognized Ghostfreak from Plumber intelligence files and emergency protocols—Ben had developed contingency plans in case that particular transformation ever lost control, though the risk was minimal given his enhanced willpower.
But the being before her was clearly something else entirely. Instead of the ethereal, skull-faced specter she'd expected, Ben had become a humanoid plant creature with verdant skin, a crown-like growth resembling solidified green flames, and a black face with matching extremities. Red bud-shaped structures adorned his shoulders, while leaf-like appendages extended from his arms.
"Is this... Swampfire?" Ben himself sounded surprised as he examined his transformed hands, flexing fingers that ended in vine-like projections.
"When was Swampfire unlocked? I have no memory of scanning that DNA sample..." He paused, then shrugged with characteristic adaptability. "But this feels remarkably potent."
Swampfire's power level was indeed nothing to dismiss lightly—a plant-based life form with capabilities that extended far beyond simple pyrokinetics.
Wanda's eyes drifted upward as she attempted to recall Peter Parker's biology lessons from her mandatory Plumber education courses. "It's producing methane, isn't it? That's why there's a distinctive... agricultural aroma."
She wrinkled her nose but made no move to distance herself from Ben, her loyalty overriding any olfactory discomfort.
"Don't be so dismissive," Ben replied with mock indignation. "Swampfire is genuinely formidable."
The Methanosian species possessed abilities that went far beyond their initial appearance suggested. In addition to basic fire manipulation, Swampfire could release concentrated methane that dramatically amplified explosive potential. The animated version had single-handedly destroyed climate-control towers built by entire technological civilizations—structures equivalent to modern skyscrapers.
More importantly, his plant-based physiology granted near-immortal regenerative capabilities. He could propagate through spore release, secrete various toxins and entangling substances, and most relevantly for their current situation, exercise direct control over plant life.
Ben studied the agitated tree spirits with predatory calculation, noting how they seemed to be preparing an assault that would add him and Wanda to the forest's collection of buried nutrients.
He extended his arm, watching as his fingers transformed into flaming vine whips that lashed out with supernatural precision. The lead rank of tree monsters was bisected in a single sweeping strike, Ben's plant-fire hybrid nature allowing the flames to burn with particular intensity against their wooden forms.
Within moments, the destroyed spirits had been reduced to gray ash that scattered on Niflheim's perpetual winds.
Ben took a step forward, his voice carrying the authority of someone who commanded the very forces his enemies were attempting to use against him. "Does anyone else wish to challenge me?"
The effect was immediate and profound. Every remaining tree spirit froze in place, their hollow eyes wide with something approaching terror as they recognized what they were truly facing.
To Wanda's amazement, the ancient forest that had existed for millennia as a death trap for unwary visitors suddenly began returning to its roots, literally and figuratively. Dead branches sprouted new growth, withered bark regained vitality, and the malevolent intelligence that had animated them shifted from hostility to reverence.
"It's like something from a fairy tale," Wanda breathed with genuine wonder.
The scene reminded her of childhood stories her mother had told during sleepless nights—tales of nature gods who could command the respect and obedience of the natural world through sheer force of spiritual authority.
"I'm beginning to understand why Caiera always insists you were born to be a king," she observed thoughtfully. "Not just King of Sakaar, but ruler over plants, elements, and probably half a dozen other fundamental forces."
"You should address her as Proctor Caiera," Ben corrected automatically, though his tone carried more amusement than actual reproach.
Swampfire truly was the sovereign of plant life—in the animated series, Ben 10 had commanded entire armies of hostile vegetation with casual ease. If the transformation ever achieved its secondary flowering stage, those abilities would expand even further.
Though Ben harbored private concerns about the flowering form's effects on his human physiology. The enhanced stage was reportedly quite unsightly and could cause persistent skin problems that would be particularly embarrassing for someone approaching college age.
'I'm definitely past puberty,' he thought with relief. 'No need to risk teenage acne at this stage of life.'
He gestured dismissively, and the reformed tree spirits parted like a living corridor, their branches bending low in gestures of respect as he and Wanda proceeded through what had once been a lethal maze.
The display reinforced Ben's growing appreciation for Swampfire's versatility. While the transformation's raw power might not match Heatblast's stellar output, its functional capabilities in other areas far exceeded the pure fire-wielder's range.
"We should consider genetic fusion with Flora Colossus DNA," Ben mused aloud, already planning enhancement strategies. "Combining Swampfire's abilities with Groot's species characteristics could produce something remarkable."
The Flora Colossi had possessed such tremendous potential that their extinction had required intervention from the space entities known as the Living Tribunal and the abstract beings. Any species that warranted elimination by such overwhelming forces must have represented extraordinary power.
Fortunately, Ben had acquired Groot's genetic material during the plant-being's stay at Plumber headquarters. Rocket might complain about the sampling, but scientific advancement required certain sacrifices.
Before proceeding further, Ben used his plant-control abilities to commune with the reformed tree spirits, extracting detailed intelligence about Niflheim's current political situation and the locations of the six Lords of the Underworld.
Once he'd gathered sufficient information, he canceled the transformation and returned to human form.
"Omnitrix, initiate genetic fusion between Methanosian and Flora Colossus DNA," he instructed while accessing the device's advanced modification protocols.
[Attempting fusion...] the artificial intelligence responded, beginning complex calculations that would take considerable time without Azmuth's direct assistance.
The gene-fusion module wasn't part of the Omnitrix's original design—Azmuth would never have created technology specifically intended to corrupt biological integrity. This particular capability had been developed by Ben and Eunice. based on Dr. Connors' theoretical research, requiring enormous computational resources to function safely.
Fortunately, the background processing wouldn't interfere with the device's normal combat functions.
"According to the tree spirits' intelligence, the remaining Lords of the Underworld have formed an alliance to resist Dark Elf invasion," Ben reported with satisfaction. "That saves us considerable effort."
Having four of them gathered in one location would eliminate the need for extensive travel across Niflheim's various territories.
"Who are these four lords?" Wanda asked, her tactical mind already considering the challenges they would face.
"Lady Omor, Killer King Cato, the Black Bone Monarch, and the Underworld Dragon," Ben enumerated. "Each controls one-sixth of the Death Crown's power, making them roughly equivalent to Thor's current strength level. No wonder Malekith hasn't managed to eliminate them all despite deploying significant forces."
Though Ben suspected that Niflheim wasn't actually Malekith's primary concern—if the Dark Elf king truly prioritized this realm, he would have led the assault personally rather than delegating it to subordinates.
"There's one particularly interesting piece of intelligence," Ben added with a sardonic smile. "Care to guess who helped Malekith defeat the first two lords and claim one-third of the Death Crown's power?"
Wanda blinked with confusion, clearly having no basis for speculation about Niflheim's political intrigues.
"Höðr Odinson," Ben revealed with dark amusement. (Höðr -> Hodr)
"Odinson?" Wanda's hands flew to her face as the implications sank in. "Another of Odin's children? This family situation just keeps getting more complicated."
Among the All-Father's numerous offspring, very few seemed capable of avoiding space-scale trouble for any extended period.
"Is he working as a spy like Loki?" she asked hopefully.
"You're being overly optimistic," Ben replied with a shake of his head. "Hoder ended up in Niflheim because he murdered his brother Balder, which led to his execution and eternal imprisonment in this realm of the dishonored dead."
The God of Darkness harbored grudges that probably exceeded even Hela's hatred for their family—being executed by your own father for fraticide tended to create lasting resentment.
"Let's proceed," Ben decided with finality. "Regardless of who stands in our way, anyone who opposes us becomes our enemy."
Several Days Earlier - Pacific Ocean, Earth
In the crushing depths of Earth's largest ocean, Psyphon supported the freed but catastrophically weakened form of Cul Borson as they departed his underwater prison through dimensional manipulation.
The Serpent had initially believed his liberation marked the beginning of his long-awaited return to power. According to his original plans, he would summon the remaining Sky Hammers scattered across the universe, spread terror throughout the mortal realm, and use that fear to rapidly restore his divine strength before overthrowing Asgard's rule.
But Psyphon had brought him to Vilgax instead of Earth's surface, revealing the true nature of their arrangement.
"You betrayed me!" Cul gasped with disbelief that bordered on space horror.
The concept seemed impossible to process. The Sky Hammers carried powerful enchantments that influenced their wielders' psychology, enhancing destructive impulses while creating unbreakable loyalty to their creator. Anyone who held a Sky Hammer was supposed to recognize Cul as the Father of Gods and obey his commands without question.
Unfortunately for the Serpent, his opponent was Psyphon—a being whose loyalty to Vilgax transcended any magical compulsion imaginable.
In the face of Vilgax's authority, Psyphon would have betrayed his own biological father without hesitation, let alone some space entity who'd attempted to claim his allegiance through mystical artifacts.
"Lord Vilgax," Psyphon announced with pride as he presented his prize, "this is Cul Borson, brother to Odin All-Father and possessor of divine power that rivals the former King of Asgard. If you absorb his accumulated strength, no being in the Nine Realms will be capable of opposing your will!"
"Excellent work, Psyphon," Vilgax acknowledged with genuine appreciation for his subordinate's initiative and cunning.
The massive alien warlord stepped forward with predatory grace, his tentacles reconfiguring into a crude but effective hand that seized Cul's head like a child grasping a toy. The weakened god-king found himself lifted from the floor with humiliating ease, his millennia of divine authority reduced to helpless vulnerability.
Cul's eyes widened with the first genuine terror he'd experienced in eons. As the God of Fear, he was intimately familiar with the emotion's many forms—but experiencing it personally provided a perspective that even space entities rarely endured.
Vilgax dragged his captive to the power-extraction apparatus with casual brutality, roughly inserting the machine's neural interfaces into Cul's shoulders without regard for pain or dignity. The device activated with a low hum that seemed to resonate through dimensions themselves.
Immediately, vast quantities of divine essence began flowing from Cul's spiritual core—power that had accumulated over thousands of years of existence as a space entity. Though the Serpent's physical form had been weakened by imprisonment, his fundamental nature as a god-king remained potent beyond most beings' comprehension.
Now all of that accumulated divinity was being forcibly extracted and channeled into Vilgax's already formidable frame.
The warlord's muscles swelled with incoming power, his entire form radiating increasingly intense energy as Cul's stolen strength merged with his own enhanced physiology. The combination created cascading reactions that transformed both the stolen divinity and Vilgax's existing capabilities into something greater than the sum of their parts.
When the extraction process finally completed, Vilgax released his grip with casual indifference. Cul's desiccated corpse struck the floor like a discarded puppet, his once-mighty form reduced to little more than dried skin stretched over brittle bones.
"Master Vilgax...?" Psyphon inquired tentatively, uncertain about his leader's condition after such a massive power absorption.
"I feel magnificent," Vilgax replied, his scarlet eyes blazing with newfound space authority. "Better than I have in eons."
Originally, Cul's fear-based powers had been limited to drawing strength from the terror of Nine Realms inhabitants—a significant but ultimately finite resource. But Vilgax transcended such dimensional boundaries, allowing him to tap into fear from any source throughout the universe.
The enhancement transformed him from a powerful warlord into something approaching a space force in his own right.
Vilgax extended one massive hand toward the star-filled sky beyond their oceanic hideout. In response to his call, several objects streaked across the darkness like falling stars, their trajectories bending to his will as they approached Earth's atmosphere.
The remaining Sky Hammers—space artifacts of immense power—were coming home to their new master.