Thor very much wanted to ask Adam if he even realized what he was saying.
How had it suddenly become the Fourth God of Thunder? In such a short time, how had a fourth one appeared?
Thor had just sorted through the whirlwind of emotions... joy and sorrow... deciding to emerge from the shadow of Loki's departure. He had even prepared to send his brother off with his blessings and looked excitedly at his father, who was in fact not dead.
But Adam's words quickly broke his composure.
Thor counted on his fingers. Including Adam and Sentry, there were already three Gods of Thunder.
And both the second and third were essentially Adam…
"The Fourth God of Thunder is also you?" Thor's face stiffened. His gaze clearly conveyed the message are you messing with me?
Although Thor had accepted the reality of losing Mjolnir several months earlier, that didn't mean he would truly give it up forever. Every moment, Thor examined his own heart, longing for the day he could once again lift this faithful companion that had fought beside him for a thousand years.
Adam had gained his bloodline through the Xenomorphs. Combined with Adam's own character, he had eventually been able to wield Mjolnir. Thor had always felt this only proved Adam was one of the rare few barely qualified.
And even that had only been possible because of his bloodline. All things considered, wasn't it essentially him lifting Mjolnir the entire time?!
Mjolnir was still that discerning hammer.
But now, in Adam's words, Gods of Thunder were suddenly everywhere, and a fourth one was about to emerge?
"Trust me, this time it won't be. I will find a true wielder for Mjolnir... someone who can lift it with their heart alone. And I already have a suitable candidate in mind," Adam said earnestly.
Even Odin, who had been indifferent until now, couldn't help but look at Adam twice.
Still, in the end it was only the ownership of one divine artifact... not a matter of principle.
"Thor, don't worry too much about Mjolnir's future. I'll find it a reliable partner," Adam said with a serious expression.
"Actually, I've been wanting to find a chance to talk to you since before this war started. I think I should be able to... "
"I don't care what you think. I care what I think. And I think Mjolnir itself wants to try something new."
Thor looked sullen. He simply felt that his current self should be qualified to lift Mjolnir again.
This wasn't just about regaining his divine power and becoming that powerful, confident god once more. It was also a form of validation for himself.
"There's no need to worry about that, Thor. You are the God of Thunder, not the God of Hammers. Mjolnir is merely a weapon that assists you, not the source of your power. Have you forgotten? All your strength was earned through constant training," Odin said.
Thor looked bewildered. Of course he knew that. But how exactly was he supposed to develop his own power?
"You'll understand in time. After we return from Nidavellir, I will begin intense training with you. You'd best prepare yourself. Otherwise, you won't be able to inherit my power," Odin said, patting Thor on the shoulder.
"What about Mjolnir? It's my personal weapon too."
"No, it isn't…"
Odin said no more. His time was limited. He needed to lay the foundation for his only truly reliable son as quickly as possible.
Once he died, Hela would break free. The burden of stopping her would fall on Thor.
As for Adam, who had taken Mjolnir…
"Return the Destroyer armor. Mjolnir can stay with you, but that one cannot," Odin said, extending his hand.
Adam paused for a moment, then shrugged. "If it were just me and Thor here, we could have muddled through. Unfortunately…"
It was obvious. Odin was now fully focused on paving the way for Thor. The strongest weapon, he would take Thor to Nidavellir to obtain. The strongest armor would naturally be the Destroyer.
This artifact had received the blessings of all the sky-fathers of the World Tree. A thousand years ago, when Odin wore it, he had dared to stand against the Celestials.
"What about the Casket of Ancient Winters? Don't tell me Loki took it. You can imagine how dangerous it would be for someone with his personality to run around Earth with that thing. Kamar-Taj certainly won't let him run wild," Adam quickly changed the subject.
"I will speak with the Ancient One about that. There's no need for you to worry," Odin said, his tone growing heavier. "The Destroyer armor was only lent to you by Loki and Thor. It was never given to you. Of course, whatever you may think, you did wear it and help Asgard resolve a powerful enemy. As repayment, I will grant you permission to use the Bifrost. If you need transportation, simply call on Heimdall. As long as the request isn't excessive, he will fulfill it."
Clearly, Odin had seen through what Adam truly needed beneath his reluctant, dragging exterior.
"Unfortunately, I originally planned to give the Destroyer armor to the Fourth God of Thunder. But since you insist, I'll return it to its rightful owner. Thank you for the payment for my services."
Adam shook his body, and the Destroyer armor detached from him on its own, standing at Odin's side.
Adam didn't feel much attachment to the armor. After all, it was ultimately a divine-power suit that required divine energy as fuel to reach its full potential. For him, it was destined to be only a transitional piece of equipment.
"I hope Heimdall can regularly transport my Xenomorphs back and forth between Earth and Jotunheim. I need to capture enough giants as hosts. That is the spoils I deserve as the victor."
"Do you intend to completely exterminate all the giants in Jotunheim? Wipe out their entire race?"
"Of course not. At the very least, you wouldn't agree to that, Odin… Maintaining the stability of the Nine Realms is what you care about most. At least until Thor grows to your level, preserving the current situation is the best outcome, right?"
Adam spoke openly to the father and son. "I certainly don't plan to kill every native lifeform in an entire world. But I need Jotunheim as a stable source of hosts. Let's say fifty thousand? As for those giants who willingly submit to me and accept parasitism, they'll be counted separately."
This was the division of spoils. To be honest, Adam's opening demand meant claiming more than half of Jotunheim's population.
Just the hosts needed for chestbursters required fifty thousand. That meant fifty thousand giants would die miserably at Adam's hands, their corpses consumed as food by the Xenomorphs.
This number obviously couldn't fall entirely on the Frost Giants. The Ice Giants, Frost Giants, Wind Giants, and others would have to share the burden.
And that was only the number of giants who would be chestbursted.
As for those who submitted to Adam's power, willingly cooperated, and accepted parasitism without being chestbursted to serve him... that was another matter entirely and not included in the fifty thousand.
Added together, the giants of Jotunheim might face a grim future, but they had lost the war.
At least they were still alive. If they endured for a few million years, perhaps they could recover their strength.
"Truly ruthless methods. If this had been tens or hundreds of thousands of years ago, you would have been the strongest opponent I faced on my path to conquering the Nine Realms."
Odin ultimately agreed. After all, it wasn't Asgardians dying... it was the Jotunheim giants who had tried to destroy Asgard.
In truth, he had no choice. If he didn't let the native gods of Jotunheim offer their bodies to satisfy Adam's appetite, would he make the Asgardians do it instead?
Of course not. Odin was no saint full of benevolence and peace. Besides, Thor would need Adam as a solid, reliable ally in the future.
Adam left first, taking his greatest prize... Laufey.
"Thor, be careful with this man. He is more dangerous than you imagine. Similarly, his ambition far exceeds your imagination. The one comfort is that, for now, he still maintains some sense of honor. That means dealing with him won't necessarily be all bad," Odin said as he watched Adam's figure, letting out a sigh.
The times had changed.
Thor replied, "My instincts tell me he is trustworthy. As long as I make sure I don't become an obstacle when he sets out to do something, and if possible, I will join forces with him."
Odin neither agreed nor disagreed, offering no evaluation. Because when that time came... whether good or bad... Thor would have to bear it all himself.
He couldn't even resolve the matter of Hela. How could he concern himself with what Adam might do in the future?
He probably wouldn't live long enough to see it.
"And Laufey…" Odin sighed. He had never expected one of his formidable rivals to end up in such a state.
Perhaps in the little time he had left, he would meet Laufey again. But by then, he would still be himself, while Laufey would no longer be Laufey... but… a Xenomorph!
What would the chestburster from Laufey look like? It would certainly be tall, and it would certainly be white-and-blue, just like the other Xenomorphs born from Frost Giant hosts.
But how much of Laufey's power could that Xenomorph inherit? It certainly couldn't be stronger than Laufey himself. Divine power wasn't something that could be simply passed on through genes.
"After we return from Nidavellir, I will begin intense training with you. You'd best prepare yourself. Otherwise, you won't be able to inherit my power," Odin said.
This would be the greatest power he left to Thor. Whether Thor could receive it would depend on Thor himself.
As long as he succeeded, Thor... who would possess both the power of Thor and the power of Odin, enhanced by a collection of divine artifacts... would have enough confidence when facing Adam, or even more dangerous celestial gods than Adam in the future.
The distinguished individuals each went their separate ways. But the actual division and plundering of Jotunheim had only just begun.
Under the constant flashing of the Bifrost, endless giants of various races were hunted down and captured on a massive scale. Their future was one everyone already knew.
If the giants who hadn't stepped onto the battlefield to fight Adam at the beginning still had a chance of being parasitized without chestbursters, then those who had entered the war and been frozen solid by Loki's Casket of Ancient Winters... completely captured by Adam... would undoubtedly meet a miserable fate for the vast majority.
The Xenomorphs were already a cold-blooded species utterly ruthless toward enemies. All the more so for the one who ruled them.
Across every realm within the World Tree, all eyes were closely watching this unprecedented campaign of conquest and plunder. The once proud and independent Frost Giants were now like wilted eggplants, whipped in terror, their limbs severed and eyes gouged out when they resisted fiercely, then dragged away to be parasitized.
Mercy was the rarest commodity on the battlefield.
Moreover, Jotunheim's original ecosystem had suffered catastrophic damage. Many areas were no longer suitable for life. This meant the native creatures would face a long period of miserable fate.
No one would step forward to seek justice for them. Everyone who witnessed the scene... the blood-soaked ground, the countless severed limbs, the separated cries and despairing wails... fell silent.
Those sent from various realms to investigate looked on and remained quiet. Don't misunderstand... they weren't filled with righteous fury on behalf of Jotunheim's divine giant races. They were primarily horrified by the overwhelming strength and ruthless methods Adam had displayed.
Adam's rise had been too fast. His style of action... at least in their eyes... was aggressive enough.
"The Xenomorphs are lifeforms capable of parasitizing hosts and stealing their highest-quality genes?"
"Although these creatures are powerful, no matter how you look at it, they shouldn't be able to steal divine power along with everything else. At most, after stealing the bloodline, they gain the qualification to cultivate divine power."
"It's Adam. He brought the Xenomorph race to a level that didn't belong to them. Look at those powerful Xenomorphs fighting the giants of Jotunheim. Some were chestbursted, some weren't, but without exception they are all Xenomorphs. Many of them are formidable."
"You mean the one who fought Laufey? According to the intelligence we obtained from Midgard, that wasn't Adam... just one of Adam's subordinates."
"No, the spiritual frequency on that person changed. It was as if he became a different person. There must be something more to it. Perhaps that's one of Adam's abilities."
Every notable figure across the World Tree had lived for immense spans of time. They had seen and heard of countless extraordinary individuals. Through the two fierce battles against Dormammu and Laufey, these experienced, sharp-eyed beings had already noticed things.
Everyone took note of Jotunheim's miserable state and privately discussed frantically the cruel fate awaiting the defeated sky-father Laufey.
Some had already begun taking action, preparing to make contact with this powerful new race that had appeared in the World Tree.
"But these creatures are ultimately not gods. They haven't received the World Tree's recognition. That means they are not of the same kind as us."
Nidavellir.
The Dwarf King scratched his messy hair in irritation. He had originally held a favorable view of Adam because of the close cooperation between Asgard and Adam. Any leader willing to send his army to fight, sacrificing lives and facing death, was someone no one could refuse.
But when he thought about how the Xenomorph species was fundamentally different from the gods of the World Tree, he felt uneasy again.
The Dwarf King was an extremely picky and fastidious god. Without that temperament, he couldn't have forged the divine artifacts that every god race coveted.
"They aren't gods yet, but perhaps they will be before long."
Odin arrived with Thor, speaking in a solemn voice. "With the many gods of Jotunheim as his vassals, he will inevitably cultivate a group of Xenomorphs carrying divine blood. These are the seeds of a new god race."
"Even if what you say is true and these so-called god Xenomorphs are still giants of Jotunheim at the genetic level? At most with stronger talent. If the Xenomorphs also capture and parasitize the Fire Giants and Rock Giants of Muspelheim, they'll have collected all the giant god races of the World Tree."
The Dwarf King immediately countered, then said with delight, "I knew you wouldn't die so easily. You've finally made up your mind this time, bringing your son here? I told you long ago... let me forge a weapon tailored for you Aesir. It would save you many years of training."
…
Skurge walked along Asgard's resplendent streets with a look of despair.
All around him, Asgardian civilians surged forward, hurling various objects at the giant captives... including him.
If only some of the things they threw were food. Then he could eat a little and regain some strength. Skurge thought with a haggard expression.
Compared to the other giants, Skurge looked pitifully small. Forget comparing him to the Frost Giants... the dominant race of Jotunheim. Even among the second-tier Ice Giants and Wind Giants, his height of just over two meters made him insignificant.
There was nothing to be done. He was a hybrid born from an Asgardian and a Wind Giant. Having lived in Jotunheim, he had naturally fought as a giant of Jotunheim in this world war.
Because of his mixed blood and frail build... in the eyes of giants, just over two meters was hardly worth mentioning... Skurge had been bullied and mocked by the giants around him since childhood.
But Skurge refused to accept a mediocre fate. For many years he had trained relentlessly in his killing techniques. Despite his small stature, carrying the blood of two god races, his strength, speed, and other attributes were nothing to scoff at. In Jotunheim, he had brutally hunted various giants, earning himself the title "Butcher."
But now it was all over. The strength and status he had painstakingly built were worthless. Before he could truly rise, he had the misfortune of encountering a world-level brutal war. Now he had lost even his most basic dignity.
As a hybrid, Skurge hadn't been among the first to reach the battlefield. The ones who initially charged against the Asgardians and Xenomorphs were the Frost Giants... Laufey's most trusted and relied-upon forces.
Skurge had been in the second wave, fighting alongside Ice Giants, Frost Giants, and others, only to be frozen solid by Loki.
Although Skurge had remained unable to move, trapped by the power of the Casket of Ancient Winters, he had stayed conscious. He had been fortunate enough to witness the battle between Adam and Laufey and personally seen Adam beat Laufey to a broken, dismembered state before carrying him away.
The process reminded Skurge of when he had chopped apart the young Wind Giant who had bullied him as a child. The bloody scenes were remarkably similar. The one doing the beating had the same cold demeanor.
The giants who had once thought so highly of themselves were as insignificant as ants in a war of this scale. Even a sky-father as powerful as Laufey had ultimately met such a miserable end.
He stiffly turned his head, looking at the Xenomorphs escorting them.
These creatures... and their master... had orchestrated everything. Jotunheim's unprecedented惨败 and the fall of the entire world had been achieved through their alliance with the Asgardians.
Even though Skurge's mind wasn't particularly sharp, he knew this man had been the key in the battle... not Asgard.
The sky-father he had revered had fallen to this fate.
"Heh heh. I hear these things will invade my body, steal my highest-quality genes, and ultimately tear open my chest to be born as a Xenomorph? They'll even eat my corpse to replenish nutrients… That means a Xenomorph with the same genes as me will appear... no, with even better potential… This fate isn't so bad. At least I'll continue living in another form."
Skurge imagined the scene and suddenly let out a low chuckle. The laughter grew louder, carrying a thick scent of blood. This successfully drew even more curses.
He thought it was all too amusing. Every last one of those idiots who had mocked him for being a half-breed was finished. Their proud pure bloodlines and towering statures would be stolen at the root by these Xenomorphs. What a magnificent irony.
They would all become Xenomorphs. He wanted to see how those fools would laugh then... with their inner jaws clicking and clacking as they spat?
At that moment, the surrounding crowd stirred and quickly parted to form a path.
"It's the queen! Queen Frigga has come!"
"Why would Queen Frigga appear here?"
"We must protect the queen so these filthy giants don't frighten her!"
The queen? Why would someone of her status come here…
Skurge's mind wandered. Then he heard a familiar voice. He lifted his head in disbelief, looking at the figure beside Frigga.
Skornheim... his mother, a witch who served Frigga!
"Is that him? Skornheim? Your son?"
Frigga confirmed once more. She walked up to one of the Xenomorphs and spoke in a low voice, negotiating. Even as a wise witch, Frigga wasn't entirely sure whether these Xenomorphs would listen to her.
The Xenomorph language course had not yet been fully developed. Frigga hesitated over whether to use mental magic to facilitate communication with the Xenomorphs but worried the action might be too rash and provoke their instinctive resistance.
Frigga knew very well how powerful and dangerous these Xenomorphs were. She also understood the delicate relationship between Asgard and Adam. She was happy to see that relationship grow stronger in the future and didn't want to create unnecessary ripples over trivial matters.
Skurge was released on the spot.
The proof was a Dracula Xenomorph that unlocked the divine-power chains on his body, roughly grabbed him by the neck, and threw him out of the group.
Then, without sparing him another glance, the Dracula Xenomorphs escorted the remaining captives toward the prison.
There, a large number of Xenomorph eggs transported from Earth were already waiting for these hosts.
This rough, direct approach was extremely Xenomorph-like, perfectly fitting their wild image.
Skurge's mind was a mess. He could hardly believe he had been rescued in this way... and by his mother, whom he hadn't been in contact with for centuries.
"My child, take good care of your mother. She went to great lengths to find me and plead specifically on your behalf."
Frigga's voice was very gentle as she gave the mother and son time together.
Skurge remained silent for a long time. He wasn't very good at interacting with this birth mother. His eyes simply stared straight at the incredibly powerful Xenomorphs.
"What's wrong? Are you still worried these Xenomorphs will attack you? There's no need. They are our allies... and now yours too. I shouldn't have left you with your father back then. I should have brought you to Asgard from the beginning. Then you would have been an Asgardian from the start and wouldn't have to face these terrifying creatures."
Skornheim lowered her voice, as if afraid of disturbing the dangerous Xenomorphs.
"Look... see those black Xenomorphs walking behind? Their original hosts seem to have been a race called mutants. According to Queen Frigga, they were lifeforms created by the Celestials. I don't understand it fully, but it looks like they were defeated and conquered by the Xenomorphs."
The Celestials? What were those? Skurge had never heard of them. From the name, it sounded like an organization formed by a group of celestial gods? More than one celestial god.
"As for the type of Xenomorph that threw you out earlier, they're even stranger. Even Queen Frigga hasn't figured out what their hosts were. Preliminary judgment is that they came from a Midgardian race called vampires. That race was also defeated by the Xenomorphs, and their entire species became hosts."
Skornheim spoke, trying hard to mend her relationship with this son she hadn't seen in centuries. "But these Xenomorphs are frighteningly strong. They're definitely not something ordinary vampires could have produced. And they're almost identical. I hear Queen Frigga has made this a very important research topic… Ah, you might not know, but although Queen Frigga never appears on battlefields, she is a vital guardian of Asgard. She's also a very powerful witch, highly skilled and knowledgeable in research."
Skurge's thoughts were no longer on his mother's words. His eyes were fixed on these Xenomorphs. He suddenly turned his head to look at the few people who were also Xenomorph hosts but hadn't been chestbursted.
Many of them looked like ordinary Midgardians standing among the Xenomorph ranks. Not a single one was Asgardian.
The defeated giants walked past them. Some of the more timid ones were already trembling uncontrollably.
"Those people are pathetically weak. I can sense it. Their superpowers aren't worth noticing. I could kill them with a single axe blow."
Skurge pointed at the few cold-faced mutants.
"What nonsense are you saying, my son? They are our allies, and very powerful…"
"These weaklings joined that man's ranks, which is why they have today... respect. Jotunheim was crushed and conquered by this race. Even Asgard doesn't dare do anything to them."
Skurge quickly reached a correct conclusion. "So someone with extraordinary talent like me would have an even brighter future than these weaklings, right? I've decided. I want to join the Xenomorphs. I want to become a Xenomorph."
As for his father's race... the Wind Giants? To hell with them. Forget the Wind Giants... he wouldn't even be an Asgardian anymore. He chose to join this race that might not have existed for very long.
If he could choose one of three races and had to become one of them, then why not go straight to the strongest one from the beginning?
^^^
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