As Tyr suspected, Fenris was prowling the Underworld, scouring for any corpses that might be found.
Souls rained down from the sky like a black storm, swept by an unseen wind, drifting and wailing as they fell to the ground.
But Fenris didn't eat souls—they had no flavor, no substance to fill its belly. They weren't on its menu.
Fortunately, some souls were more tightly bound to their bodies. When they fell into the Underworld after death, they might bring scraps of flesh—often a heart. Those were the giant wolf's target.
It would swallow these meat-flavored souls, savoring them slowly.
Sniff sniff… Awoo.
Devouring a soul, the metallic tang of blood stimulated its mouth, but its stomach remained empty, leaving it hungrier, unsatisfied.
Its bell-like green eyes scanned the surroundings, its wet nose twitching to catch faint scents in the air.
Suddenly, it caught a thick, bloody aroma.
This scent existed only in its memories—a warm, moist smell of fresh meat.
Following the trail, it broke into a frantic sprint.
Leaping over hills and ravines, when it finally saw the source, it could hardly believe its eyes.
The wolf sat back on its haunches, human-like, rubbing its eyes with a paw to confirm it wasn't mistaken.
Its beastly mind struggled to process the scene. What did it see?
Among a pile of rubble, the blood-soaked Allfather Odin lay face-down, his Eternal Spear fallen from his hand, rolling to the side.
Death-spore flowers bloomed nearby, their dark aura seeming to cling to the golden spear.
The overwhelming scent of blood drowned out all else, red streams pooling across the black ground, strikingly vivid.
Fenris edged closer. Nothing seemed amiss—Odin's body was cooling, its nose could sense it.
It took a few more steps, circling the corpse.
The body didn't move.
Something felt off about finding Odin's corpse here, but Fenris was a beast. Even as a monster fated to bring Ragnarök, it was still driven by instinct.
The lure of blood and flesh fully awakened its feral nature. God-king or not, this was food.
It approached, pawing at the body. No reaction. Then it lunged, biting down.
But that bite was its mistake. What seemed like a corpse melted on contact, slipping through its teeth.
Instead, it enveloped Fenris like a mask, covering its muzzle, nose, and face.
From where the black flowers had been, a figure emerged from the ground, still adorned with rubble and blossoms. The debris shifted into a flowing black liquid, transforming into black-and-yellow armor.
Likewise, Odin's "corpse" became black liquid, encasing the wolf's head and forming a rope that tethered it to the figure.
The red cape, almost sulkily, turned black and flew to the figure's shoulders.
Su Ming couldn't take Hela head-on, but Fenris? That he could handle.
In the prophecy, Fenris devours Odin, only to be killed when a hero pries its jaws apart and pierces its heart.
This meant the wolf had a standard physiology, requiring food, water, and air to function.
Even someone as powerful as Superman needed at least two senses to maintain combat effectiveness.
As a canine, Fenris relied heavily on smell, followed by its superhuman hearing and sight. Those had to be neutralized first.
Su Ming had bled himself heavily—his healing factor made blood loss trivial.
The scent of blood lured the Underworld's predator; canines could smell it from miles away.
Stranglehold morphed into an Odin-shaped decoy, while Su Ming disguised his body with rocks and flowers. With blood spilled, the trap was set.
When Stranglehold enveloped Fenris like a hood, forming a rope to Su Ming's hand, the job was nearly done.
Su Ming had planned it all perfectly—Fenris escaping would've been a miracle.
"Godslayer, anchor!"
The golden spear transformed into an anchor, lodging into the ground.
Even so, the lack of oxygen hadn't fully taken effect. Fenris thrashed like a rabid dog, dragging Su Ming wildly across the terrain.
This beast, capable of devouring Odin, had monstrous strength.
Even with Su Ming, Stranglehold, and the cape, he was pulled along, skidding across the ground like a surfer.
His shoulders crashed into boulders, his armor sparking, his boots shattering rocks as he tried to brace himself.
Yet the wolf charged blindly onward.
It felt like surfing in a typhoon, except there was no grand sea to admire—just endless darkness.
Since his last trip to the DC universe, Su Ming had grown tired of seawater. He hadn't visited Hawaii in years.
Rocks flew, dust swirled, and stray souls were scattered, but the beast was nearly unstoppable.
"Gin, help me out!"
Gin, riding the eight-legged steed, dove from the black sky. She grabbed the rope formed by Stranglehold, and the steed bit down on another section.
Odin's mount was strong, and with the wolf's oxygen deprivation, Fenris finally collapsed minutes later, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Stranglehold returned to Su Ming's body, and the Godslayer morphed into a curved blade, sheathed.
Gin wiped sweat from her brow, exhaling heavily. Her arms felt like they weren't hers anymore.
"Finally caught it. This thing's tougher than a dragon."
Catching it was just the start—next was using it to negotiate with Hela. But Su Ming, aching all over, needed a moment to let his healing factor kick in.
"You've killed a dragon?" he asked, removing his helmet and sitting on a nearby rock, letting Stranglehold clean the blood from his body.
Gin patted the steed's neck, dismounting and looking at her hands.
"Long ago, the Valkyries took down a dragon together. It was a long fight, but we killed it. There aren't any dragons left on Earth now."
Her expression was complex, clearly recalling old times.
"There are still dragons on Earth—flying ones, dinosaurs, you name it," Su Ming said confidently. They were just hidden in vast underground caverns.
Plus, there were aliens, giant bugs, Celestial corpses, and all sorts of weird stuff.
If you looked hard enough, you'd find them. Su Ming knew of dragon bones under New York, rumored to hold mystical power.
But those bones were tied to the Hand, their "mystical power" linked to some ninja nonsense—irrelevant to Su Ming's interests.
"Where?" Gin asked, her curiosity piqued, though her eyes stayed on the fallen wolf.
It was unconscious, lying like a small mountain, its legs like pillars.
"Below the surface—not the sewers. Once I pry your sisters' souls from Hela's grasp, you can take Sif hunting for dragons. She's got a knack for sniffing out monsters."
"Actually… Sif and those witches are from another world, aren't they?" Gin asked, her expression odd. She'd always had questions but kept them quiet due to her own secrets.
"Correct. But Natasha and the others aren't—they were snatched from a spy group called Leviathan. I suspect they'll come after us soon. They've been infiltrating the U.S. since the war."
Gin rubbed her chin, a habit from when she had a beard, though her face was now smooth and striking. The gesture looked a bit dazed.
Her eyes still sparkled with their old fire. "Let them try. New York's your turf, boss."
"New York's just a cover, a big foothold. My goals aren't limited to a city or a planet." Su Ming smiled, standing and donning his helmet. "Now, let's go see Hela and find out if she's willing to trade for her pet."