A few minutes later, the remaining seven thousand five hundred warships of the Black Order materialized across the perimeter of the battlefield.
Instantly, a concentrated barrage of lasers tore into the Asgardian fleet.
Massive carrier bays yawned open, unleashing fresh swarms of Leviathans followed closely by endless waves of ravenous Outriders.
The timely arrival of his five generals immediately alleviated the crushing pressure on the front lines.
Seeing his vanguard restabilized, Thanos dismissed his fleeting urge to personally join the fray.
The Asgardian warriors were undeniably powerful and currently outnumbered his beasts, but without the protective cover of their warships, their total annihilation in the cold void was only a matter of time.
Aboard his flagship, Odin surveyed the tactical projections and grimly watched his warriors dying at an alarming rate.
Even with his heart of stone, the heavy casualties made him wince.
Asgardian reproduction and maturation were agonizingly slow.
A normal Asgardian took thirty years just to reach physical maturity, and at least another ten years of rigorous training to become a baseline warrior.
That meant forty years of heavy investment for a single foot soldier.
Elite fighters, like the Warriors Three, required centuries of cultivation.
As for the royal bloodline?
That was even more absurd.
One only had to look at Thor—three hundred years old and still acting like an impulsive, hot-headed child—to understand.
Therefore, as cold-blooded as Odin could be, preserving his warriors’ lives was absolutely essential for maintaining Asgard’s galactic supremacy.
With that in mind, he gripped Gungnir, blasted out of the flagship’s airlock, and thrust the divine artifact forward.
A blinding beam of golden energy erupted from the spear’s tip.
Moving at the speed of light, the catastrophic blast crossed a million kilometers in mere seconds, slamming directly into the enemy fleet.
Thanos’s vanguard frigates instantly flared their deflector shields.
But no matter how advanced their technology was, it could not withstand the unrestrained fury of a Skyfather.
In the next instant, Odin’s blast punched straight through a frigate’s shields, reducing the massive vessel to a blossoming fireball.
Though the vacuum of space remained dead silent, the sheer apocalyptic visual painted a deafening roar in everyone’s minds.
Without pausing, Odin shifted his aim and fired again.
In just half a minute, he systematically vaporized over a dozen warships, only halting when a heavy frigate finally managed to briefly withstand his beam.
Odin gritted his teeth and aggressively ramped up the energy output.
The golden beam shooting from Gungnir instantly doubled in size.
Overwhelmed by the apocalyptic surge of divine magic, the heavy frigate buckled and detonated into a shower of sparks.
Just as Odin prepared to continue his slaughter, a towering purple figure suddenly materialized in the beam’s path, violently spinning a massive, double-bladed weapon.
The catastrophic energy blast slammed directly into the whirling blades, but instead of vaporizing the figure, the golden beam splashed harmlessly against it like water crashing against a boulder, scattering uselessly into the void.
Odin’s lone eye narrowed sharply.
He instantly knew he was looking at an equal.
“Who are you?” Odin demanded.
Naturally, sound could not travel through a vacuum, but entities at their cosmic tier could effortlessly bypass such mundane physical laws.
He lowered Gungnir, cutting off the energy blast.
Thanos stopped spinning the Tyrant Greatsword and replied with chilling calmness.
“I am Thanos.”
Hearing that name, Odin’s expression darkened drastically.
Despite Asgard’s strict isolationist policy over the Milky Way, Odin still retained his seat at the Council of Godheads.
He was kept well-informed of major cosmic events by other pantheons, and Thanos was undoubtedly the biggest, most terrifying news of the past few centuries.
The Mad Titan was infamous for his sheer ruthlessness, staggering strength, and the draconian tyranny that left his subjects living in absolute, suffocating subjugation.
Odin had originally mocked the gods of the Panlong Galaxy for failing to put down a single rogue Eternal.
He never imagined the tyrant would bring his armada directly to Asgard’s doorstep.
“Thanos,” Odin rumbled.
“Retreat now, and I shall let bygones be bygones.
I will allow your fleet to leave.”
A mocking smile tugged at the corners of Thanos’s mouth.
“Allow me to leave?” he echoed smoothly.
“Do you truly believe you have the right to say that to me?”
Odin’s face twisted in ugly fury.
‘Damned arrogant wretch.
I will show you the true wrath of a god!’
But before the All-Father could unleash his divine might, an annoyed voice boomed from the battlefield.
Thor, who had been reveling in the carnage, suddenly flew over, casually twirling Mjolnir.
“To dare speak to the King of the Gods with such disrespect—you must be tired of living!”
As the Crown Prince of Asgard, Thor was used to entire species groveling at his feet wherever he went, terrified of earning his displeasure.
Centuries of this treatment had deeply ingrained a profound sense of absolute superiority in his mind; to him, every other race in the cosmos was little more than insects.
Seeing this overgrown purple bug talk down to his father instantly ignited his fiery temper.
But just as Thor readied himself to charge, the Warriors Three beat him to the punch.
“Hey, purple giant!
Apologize to the All-Father immediately, or we’ll cut you down!” “That’s right!
Drop to your knees and beg for mercy.
If we’re in a good mood, we might just spare your pathetic life!” “Listen here, you overgrown purple yam!
Don’t push your luck.
You are standing before the legendary Warriors Three of Asgard!”
Thanos didn’t even spare the trio a single glance.
He kept his eyes locked strictly on Odin.
In his mind, his only true opponent was this old man with one foot already in the grave.
The rest of them weren’t even qualified to catch his attention.
Seeing themselves so blatantly ignored, the Warriors Three flushed with fury.
Raising their weapons, they launched themselves across the void, fully intending to teach this arrogant giant a fatal lesson.
Odin merely narrowed his eye, making absolutely no move to stop them.
It was glaringly obvious—he wanted to use his elite warriors as stepping stones to gauge Thanos’s true strength.
The Warriors Three were renowned across the Nine Realms: Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg.
Fandral was arguably the most skilled combatant of the trio, a dashing blonde swordsman who wielded a razor-sharp rapier.
Volstagg, standing over two meters tall with an incredibly hefty, mountainous frame, favored brute force, swinging a massive double-bladed battleaxe.
Hogun, while technically the weakest in pure physical strength and not a native Asgardian by blood, was a formidable combatant who wielded a spiked mace supplemented by mysterious esoteric magic.
Together, the three of them possessed planetary-level combat capabilities, placing them firmly in the upper echelons of Asgard’s elite military hierarchy.
It was no wonder they were so boldly arrogant.