Hang walked slowly through the ruins, as though cloaked in an invisible abyss.
Gorr's attacks rained down like a violent storm. Pitch-black sword energy tore through Hang's skin, leaving gruesome wounds that were devoured by the Law of Greed and healed an instant later. Shadow-forged spikes pierced his body, only to be broken down into pure energy and vanish without a trace.
He simply kept walking, calm and unhurried, as though Gorr's desperate assault was nothing more than a passing breeze.
Gorr's face shifted from pale to ashen gray.
He swung the Necrosword wildly. The symbiote weapon shifted endlessly in his grasp—one moment a spear that pierced all things, the next a colossal blade that ripped through space, then a warhammer capable of crushing mountains. Yet every attack vanished the instant it entered the three-foot radius around Hang, swallowed silently by an invisible domain without causing the slightest ripple.
"W-what kind of monster are you?" Gorr's voice trembled uncontrollably, filled with unprecedented fear.
Hang didn't answer. His gaze pierced through the chaotic attacks and locked onto the Necrosword in Gorr's hand.
The pitch-black blade was trembling violently. Ancient patterns on its surface writhed like terrified serpents, radiating an instinctive fear.
Hang could clearly sense it—
An ancient and evil will resided within the sword.
Knull's will.
The God of the Symbiotes. Creator of darkness. This blade was His creation, an extension of His authority in the material universe.
But now, that will was afraid.
Because within Hang, it sensed something more primal and tyrannical than itself—
The very concept of Greed.
A hunger that regarded all existence as food. A desire capable of devouring even darkness and the void itself.
At a distance of only three meters from Gorr, Hang stopped.
"I'll be taking your sword," he said flatly, as though stating an unchangeable fact.
Gorr's pupils shrank violently. He instinctively tightened his grip, only to discover in horror that the Necrosword was struggling fiercely in his hand, like a wild beast trying to escape its master.
"No… it's mine! My godslaying weapon! Without it, how can I…"
His voice abruptly stopped.
Hang had already raised a hand. His fingers spread open, palm aimed directly at the Necrosword. The invisible Law of Devouring intertwined with the Concept of Greed, forming a massive net that surged outward.
Bzzzzz—!
The Necrosword let out a mournful cry.
The liquid darkness coating the blade twisted and peeled away, turning into countless strands of black silk that drifted uncontrollably toward Hang's palm. Gorr exerted every ounce of his strength, veins bulging and muscles straining, but before that devouring force, his resistance was as meaningless as a mantis trying to stop a chariot.
"Let go," Hang said calmly, yet with unquestionable authority.
Gorr ground his teeth so hard blood seeped from the corners of his mouth, but his connection to the Necrosword was being forcibly severed. The companion that had fought beside him for countless years and drunk the blood of innumerable gods was being eaten away by the man before him.
"No!" Gorr roared in despair. "That's mine! Without it, how can I slaughter those hypocritical gods? Without it, how can I reach Eternity? Without it…"
His voice caught.
The madness and hatred sustaining him collapsed in an instant, leaving only endless sorrow.
"Without it… how can I save my daughter?"
The soft whisper was nearly drowned out by the wind, yet everyone present heard it clearly.
Hang paused.
The Law of Devouring slowed slightly. His gaze shifted from the Necrosword to Gorr's twisted face.
The pale man who had slaughtered countless gods was now kneeling amidst the rubble, trembling violently with both hands pressed against shattered stone. The madness and hatred in his eyes had faded, replaced by abyss-like despair.
"What did you say?" Hang asked.
Gorr slowly lifted his head, tears glimmering in his gray eyes.
"My daughter. Love." His voice rasped like sandpaper. "She died. Right beneath the eyes of the gods we prayed to every day. I offered them everything, and all I received was cold indifference… They simply watched. Watched a child slowly wither away from hunger and sickness."
His body convulsed violently from overwhelming grief and rage.
"So I hated them! I wanted to kill every god in the universe! I wanted to pave a road of divine blood to Eternity itself! Only Eternity—the supreme existence—could bring my daughter back!"
On the distant Rainbow Bridge, Thor unconsciously tightened his grip on Stormbreaker. As a god himself, hearing this blood-soaked accusation left his emotions in turmoil.
Hela, kneeling on one knee nearby, also showed a trace of emotion. As the Goddess of Death, she had witnessed countless separations of life and death, yet Gorr's love for his daughter—strong enough to drive him into war against the universe for thousands of years—still stirred her frozen heart.
Hang stared at Gorr silently for a moment, then suddenly smiled.
"So all this slaughter… was just to meet Eternity and ask for your daughter's resurrection?"
Gorr nodded tearfully, a faint glimmer of hope appearing in his eyes.
"How naive." Hang's smile carried a hint of pitying mockery. "You think that sword is a tool for slaying gods? It's a creation of death and the abyss itself. It brings only destruction and emptiness—not life, not hope. You were being used from the very beginning."
Gorr froze. "N-no… impossible…"
"You think you were controlling it?" Hang pointed toward the trembling Necrosword. "It was feeding on your life force, nourishing itself with your hatred. The more gods you killed, the stronger it became. And you? You were only getting closer to death."
Gorr instinctively looked at his withered, corpse-like hands. He recalled how his body had weakened over the endless years, how his memories had begun fading…
He had always believed those were the costs of slaying gods.
Only now did he realize—they were signs of his life being drained away.
"I… I only wanted to save my daughter…" His final mental defenses collapsed.
The mockery faded from Hang's eyes, replaced by absolute calm.
"You want to save your daughter?"
Gorr looked up abruptly, like a drowning man grasping at his final lifeline.
"I can help you," Hang said. "But I have one condition."
Gorr completely froze, disbelief filling his eyes.
"You… said what?"
"I said I can resurrect your daughter." Hang's tone remained casual, as if discussing the weather. "In exchange, the sword belongs to me."
Gorr felt as though his soul had been struck by lightning.
He had slaughtered gods, crossed galaxies, and endured endless suffering for nothing more than a single blessing from Eternity.
Yet now this mysterious man before him casually claimed he could do it himself.
"You're lying!" Gorr roared hoarsely. "Resurrecting the dead… that's forbidden by the laws of the universe! That's Eternity's authority! Who the hell are you?!"
Hang smiled.
"Who am I?"
He raised his right hand. Above his palm gathered twelve laws—Space, Time, Life, Death, Reality, Soul, and more—shining like stars and forming a miniature universe of ever-changing colors.
"I'm someone greedier than any god you've ever seen. Whatever I want, I take with my own hands. Including authority over life and death."
The fluctuations from that sphere made Gorr tremble from the depths of his soul.
That wasn't energy.
It was the very foundation of the universe resonating.
"Now choose," Hang said, dismissing the sphere. "Will you cling to that sword while it devours you alive until you become a dried corpse consumed by hatred? Or will you give it to me and let your daughter live again?"
Gorr lowered his head, staring at the Necrosword.
He remembered his daughter Love's smile—a face already beginning to blur in his memory, as though the darkness within the blade was erasing it.
He remembered his original wish.
Not slaughter.
Salvation.
The sword had given him power for revenge… while simultaneously stealing the meaning behind that revenge.
Did he have any other choice?
No.
After a long silence, he raised his head. The final traces of madness and hatred in his eyes turned to ashes.
"Fine."
That single word seemed to drain away all the strength he had accumulated over three thousand years.
"I agree."
He released the sword.
The Necrosword fell from his grasp, only to be caught by an invisible force and drift slowly toward Hang.
Hang reached out and gripped the hilt.
The remaining dark will within the blade launched one final counterattack, trying to corrupt his arm. But before the Concept of Greed and the Law of Devouring, that power melted away like snow before magma.
"Stop struggling," Hang murmured to the blade, a smile curling at his lips. "Your master Knull sleeps deep within the abyss. Right now, you're nothing more than an ownerless object. And ownerless treasures happen to be my favorite things to collect."
Power surged from his palm as the Law of Devouring activated fully.
The Necrosword trembled violently. Ancient patterns across its surface shattered inch by inch as its final dark essence was absorbed into Hang's body.
At the same moment—
In a forgotten corner of the universe, within an endless living abyss, an ancient consciousness sleeping for billions of years stirred slightly.
It sensed that one of its creations in the material universe—and a fragment of its essence—had been completely devoured.
That devouring force was more tyrannical and greedier than even the abyss itself.
A name.
A concept.
Was forcibly branded into its sleeping consciousness.
Greed.
The ancient being remembered that taste before falling silent once more.
But a seed of vengeance had already been planted.
…
Back in the ruins of Asgard, Hang casually tossed aside the now powerless sword shell, nothing more than ordinary scrap metal.
"Deal complete." He looked at the kneeling Gorr. "Now take me to your daughter's grave."
---
A desolate, dead planet.
Gray rock and dried riverbeds covered the surface.
Gorr knelt before a crude mound of earth, trembling hands stroking the cold stone. A crooked wooden marker stood before it, bearing a single ancient name:
Love.
"She's here," Gorr whispered through tears.
Hang crouched down and placed his hand gently on the grave.
Closing his eyes, he unleashed vast law power.
This time, he did not pursue speed.
Instead, he acted with almost sacred solemnity.
The Law of Soul spread like gentle threads into the cracks of time itself, searching the void for the remnants of a soul scattered for three thousand years. It was weak as a flickering candle—but the obsession of her father had protected it from complete dissolution.
The Law of Reality reversed causality itself. Using memory as a blueprint and dust as material, bones reformed beneath the earth, flesh rewove itself, and the outline of a child gradually took shape underground.
Finally, the Law of Life descended like a rising dawn.
A heartbeat echoed within a chest silent for three thousand years.
Weak.
But firm.
An open rebellion against the universe's order of death.
The soil split apart soundlessly.
A little girl, seven or eight years old, slowly sat up from the grave. Not a speck of dirt stained her body, as though she had merely awakened from a long sleep.
Her skin was as pale as Gorr's, but her blue eyes were as clear as newborn stars.
She looked around blankly before her gaze settled on the kneeling man nearby.
"Daddy?"
Gorr froze completely.
He stared at the girl as three thousand years of hatred and madness collapsed in an instant, replaced by overwhelming love and joy.
"Love… is it really you? My Love… is it truly you?"
The little girl tilted her head in confusion and reached out to wipe away the tears on his face.
"Daddy, why are you crying?"
Gorr finally broke.
He pulled his daughter tightly into his arms and sobbed like a lost child who had finally found his way home after centuries.
Hang stood up and brushed the dust from his hands, quietly watching the reunion with a faint smile.
"The transaction is complete," he said to the tearful Gorr. "The Necrosword belongs to me now."
Gorr looked up at him with the gaze one would use for a god—
No.
For something beyond gods.
"Who… who are you really?"
"I told you already." Hang shrugged. "Just a passing investor."
Before the words even finished, space behind him split apart.
---
When Hang returned to the Rainbow Bridge of Asgard, Thor and Hela were still waiting there.
Thor's eyes immediately landed on the discarded "scrap metal" lying in the ruins—the sword that had once made even Odin wary.
"You really… dealt with it?"
"More or less." Hang replied calmly. "Gorr's problem is solved too. He won't be coming back."
Hela slowly rose to her feet. The corruption around her severed arm had stopped spreading, though she paid it no mind.
She stared at Hang, awe and confusion intertwined in her gray-green eyes.
"You resurrected his daughter. You reversed death itself."
"Mm."
"That is the ultimate law of death," Hela said softly, her voice trembling slightly. "Even I cannot touch that domain. That is Eternity's authority."
Hang glanced at her but offered no explanation.
To him, once enough laws were mastered deeply enough, so-called authority was merely another tool to wield.
"Asgard's crisis is over," Hang said. "The rest is up to you."
He raised a hand, preparing to step into another spatial rift.
"Wait," Hela suddenly called out.
Hang paused and looked back.
The Goddess of Death straightened her posture and bowed her head slightly with unprecedented solemnity.
"I owe you my life," she said calmly yet firmly. "The life of the Goddess of Death."
Hang looked at her for a moment before the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
"Just remember it."
He stepped into the rift and vanished beneath the shattered skies of Asgard, leaving behind Thor, Hela… and a world forever changed.
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