“Natik.” “What is it, Mike?” “You need to leave.” Mike withdrew his gaze and rose from his seat as he spoke to Natik, who was still holding a piece of polar bear meat.
Mike could guarantee that once the fighting started, none of his own attacks would reach Natik’s igloo.
After all, even Bronze Saint candidates had already developed control over their strength down to the molecular level.
What Mike could guarantee about himself, however, he couldn’t guarantee about Malekith.
So, just to be safe, it would be better for Natik to get as far away from here as possible.
A battle between a Saint and the Dark Elves was something ordinary people were better off staying far away from.
That was also why Mike had chosen the remote Arctic ice cap as the location for his recovery training in the first place.
It wasn’t because he was especially kind.
Well, maybe a little.
But not that much.
More importantly, fighting Malekith somewhere crowded would attract far too many eyes and could bring him unnecessary trouble later.
After all, Mike wasn’t Thor.
He couldn’t show off on Earth, finish chasing women, then simply turn around and leave the planet whenever he pleased.
At the very least, until he awakened his sixth sense—and probably for quite some time even after that—Mike had no way to leave Earth.
If he wanted to avoid unnecessary attention in the future, there was nothing wrong with planning ahead.
Natik, however, frowned when he heard him.
“You mean right now?” “Yes.
March isn’t even over yet, and there’s still plenty of game out there.” “No amount of game matters if you’re not alive to hunt it.” Mike cut him off.
Malekith was already approaching at tremendous speed, so Mike didn’t bother explaining any further.
He stepped outside the igloo, then turned back toward Natik with a serious expression.
“Go.
It’s going to get dangerous here very soon.” The moment those words left his mouth, Mike’s Cosmo erupted into flames, and a blood-red glow enveloped his entire body.
A thunderous sonic boom exploded across the ice as Mike vanished from where he stood, shooting across the gray-white plain like a crimson arrow.
Inside the igloo, Natik stared after him with his mouth hanging open, unable to process what he had just witnessed.
When he finally came back to his senses, he drew in a sharp breath, then immediately turned around and began gathering his belongings so he could leave the area for the time being.
Meanwhile, Mike finally encountered the legendary king of the Dark Elves roughly three kilometers from Natik’s igloo—the being who had once been powerful enough to contend with King Bor and had somehow remained alive long after Bor himself was dead.
Malekith.
His face was divided into black and white halves, and long, pointed elven ears extended from either side of his head.
His features were pale and sinister, and he wore dark armor and a cloak accented with metallic silver.
Malekith looked toward Mike as the Saint tore through the air and came to a stop before him.
Mike’s figure was lean and upright, standing as firmly as a pine that could never be felled.
His short golden hair framed a sharply defined face, while his deep blue eyes stood out like the depths of the ocean.
Their gazes met.
Malekith was the first to speak.
“Malekith, leader of the Dark Elves and king of Svartalfheim.” Mike answered in kind.
“Mike Ametra.
Saint.” Compared with Malekith’s grand introduction, Mike’s was almost painfully ordinary.
Especially since Saints didn’t exist in this universe at all.
Malekith turned the word over in his mind several times and still had no idea what Mike meant by it.
But Malekith hadn’t come here to exchange introductions.
He had come for the Aether.
Thousands of years ago, after being defeated by King Bor, losing the Aether, and being driven from the Nine Realms, Malekith had already set his sights on this very era.
Even back then, he had known that the rare Convergence of the Nine Realms would occur now.
Because of that, he had decisively placed himself in suspended animation.
That was why Malekith was still alive even though King Bor had died long ago.
Malekith had only one goal: to return the Nine Realms to an age of darkness, back to the era when the Dark Elves had ruled supreme.
To accomplish that, he needed both the Convergence and the Aether.
Now the Convergence was about to begin.
But the Aether was no longer in Asgard.
After awakening, the first thing Malekith had done was send his people to infiltrate Asgard and launch a surprise attack.
His objective had been the Aether, which he had assumed King Bor would have taken back to Asgard for safekeeping after defeating him.
Indeed, from the moment Malekith awakened, he had always believed the Aether remained under Asgardian control.
That was why, even without Mike’s involvement, he had still led the Dark Elves in an assault on Asgard.
Just as in the original course of events, Queen Frigga was killed during the attack.
This time, however, Jane Foster had never disappeared from Heimdall’s sight, so Thor had never come to Earth to bring her to Asgard.
When Malekith attacked, Thor and the Warriors Three had gone to Jotunheim to suppress yet another rebellion that had broken out among the Frost Giants.
By the time Thor received the news and returned to Asgard, Malekith was already gone.
Odin sat silently on the ruined floor of the Golden Palace, holding Frigga’s lifeless body in his arms.
And because neither Odin nor Thor had learned about the Aether beforehand, neither of them yet understood exactly why Malekith had returned after thousands of years to attack Asgard.
None of that, however, could stop Thor from seeking revenge for his mother’s death.
Just as in the original story, with the help of his “dear younger brother” from entirely different parents and the Warriors Three, Thor used one of Asgard’s secret passages to travel to the realm of the Dark Elves.
But Malekith wasn’t in Svartalfheim.
After leaving Asgard, he had caught the scent of the Aether through one of the mirages created during the brief window of the Convergence.
Using the temporary two-way passage hidden within that mirage, Malekith and his Kursed warrior had crossed over to this place.
And now they stood before Mike.
Malekith’s gaze settled on him, his voice calm yet carrying the weight of a command that allowed no refusal.
“You took something that belongs to me.
It’s time you gave it back.” “You mean this?” Mike didn’t bother pretending not to understand.
He opened his right hand, and the blood-red Aether began writhing and gathering above his palm.
Then he looked directly at Malekith.
“Sorry, but it’s not for sale.”