Umbrella Corporation's newest masterpiece had arrived.
A super-soldier created through Compound One.
Umbrella's Number One special operative:
Sephiroth.
Drex Valen had conveniently arranged a perfect debut for him by unleashing a Dragon-Level monster in public. Before a global audience, Sephiroth effortlessly cut the creature apart with a single execution technique so fast most caras barely captured it.
Eight flashes of silver.
Then the monster collapsed into pieces.
The entire world was stunned.
But shortly afterward, Drex publicly clarified that Compound One would never be sold comrcially. It would only be awarded internally to Umbrella Corporation's most exceptional personnel.
That single announcent ignited worldwide obsession.
Previously, many people had joined Umbrella because of its overwhelming influence and power rivaling entire nations.
Now?
After witnessing Sephiroth in action, countless people were willing to devote themselves to the company for one simple reason:
Power.
Real power.
Naturally, that also attracted less desirable attention.
Governnts, intelligence agencies, corporations, and black-market organizations all imdiately began trying to uncover the truth behind Compound One.
Unfortunately for them, there were no samples to steal.
Every dose had supposedly been personally formulated by Drex Valen himself, and no one besides him possessed the knowledge required to recreate it.
Of course, Compound One didn't actually exist.
It was simply a convenient explanation for why Umbrella Corporation kept producing terrifying superhumans.
Before light existed, there was darkness.
And from that darkness, the Dark Elves were born.
Thousands of years ago, the cruel ruler Malekith sought to plunge the universe back into eternal night. To accomplish that goal, he wielded the Aether, an ancient weapon capable of destroying all things.
At the ti, the Nine Realms were approaching convergence. Once the realms aligned, Malekith intended to unleash the Aether completely and erase all light from existence.
But Asgard intervened.
Leading the armies of Asgard was Bor, father of Odin and grandfather of Thor.
Using the Bifrost's unmatched mobility, the Asgardians struck directly at the Dark Elves and seized the Aether before Malekith could complete his plan.
Without their ultimate weapon, the Dark Elves collapsed under the assault of Asgard's holy armies.
Still, Malekith had never been a noble ruler.
He understood one principle better than anyone:
As long as he survived, hope survived with him.
He sacrificed his soldiers without hesitation, whether to delay the Asgardians or die alongside them. The loss of his people ant nothing compared to vengeance.
Asgard had stolen his weapon.
Blood would repay that humiliation.
The war had not truly ended.
It had rely paused.
Asgard later proclaid that the Aether had been destroyed.
In reality, it had only been hidden sowhere no one could find it.
Until now.
"The Aether has awakened us."
Deep within the Solar System, a forgotten flagship drifted silently through space.
Darkness filled the void around it, but faint lights slowly flickered back to life within the ancient vessel. Rusted reactors ward for the first ti in thousands of years.
Sothing was waking up.
Not humans.
Never humans.
Dark Elves.
Long ago, Asgard had shattered their dream of eternal darkness through the overwhelming strategic advantage of the Bifrost. Malekith escaped into deep space after sacrificing countless followers to evade pursuit by Asgard's armies.
But survival had never been surrender.
The Dark Elves had endured all this ti for one reason:
To finish what they started.
And perhaps they owed so gratitude to the fool who had broken the seal hiding the Aether.
Malekith erged from darkness once more.
The first thing he saw was light.
And he hated it.
"Damn Asgard," he snarled softly. "Damn Bor."
Around him, surviving Dark Elves awakened one after another from their ancient stasis chambers. Malekith looked across the warriors preserved since the old war, and a thin smile spread across his aged face.
These survivors were enough.
Enough to rise again.
But first, he wanted to return ho.
Svartalfheim.
Even knowing what remained there was likely nothing but ruin, he still longed to see it again.
It was their world.
"The continuation of our race is the legacy we leave behind," Malekith declared to the assembled Dark Elves. "My fearless warriors, I will make the Asgardians suffer a fate crueler than anything we endured. But first, we reclaim our holand. First, we recover the Aether."
"I will restore our world."
"I will end this poisoned universe."
"And if necessary, I will sacrifice myself just as our people once sacrificed themselves for us."
"We are darkness. We will beco darkness once more."
His voice echoed through the flagship like a war hymn.
The Dark Elves listened in silence, their blood heating with renewed purpose.
Before the soldiers could respond, Malekith's lieutenant stepped forward.
Algrim.
He bowed slightly beside his king.
"Your will commands us."
Dark Elf customs were cold and severe, but absolute loyalty radiated from his voice.
"I will lead the assault," Algrim continued. "I will shatter the enemy's defenses and help you forge a new universe."
Soon after, the Dark Elf flagship returned to Svartalfheim.
Ruins stretched across the dead world.
A graveyard left behind by the ancient war.
Though the Dark Elves themselves had helped destroy their holand, none of them blad themselves for its current state. Standing amid the shattered remains only deepened their hatred for Asgard.
"Algrim," Malekith said darkly, staring across the wasteland. "Have we located the Aether?"
At this mont, he could barely suppress his desire to destroy Asgard imdiately.
Algrim nodded.
"It has been confird. The Aether is on Midgard."
"Midgard?" Malekith narrowed his eyes. "That primitive little world?"
He found it strange that the Aether wasn't in Asgard's possession, but ultimately, that made things easier.
Recovering it from Midgard would be far simpler.
And once the Aether was his again, he could prepare properly before annihilating Asgard.
"Make the arrangents, Algrim," Malekith ordered. "We will need an infiltrator within Asgard. All remaining forces will accompany to Midgard."
"We reclaim the weapon that will restore our glory."
"Understood."
Despite failing to fully wield the Aether before Asgard stole it long ago, Malekith was far from incompetent.
As a warrior, he might not rival Algrim directly.
But where Malekith truly excelled was command.
Strategy.
Patience.
And hatred sharpened across thousands of years.
User Comments
0 comments from readers