"Hahahahahaha...!"
"Hahahahahahaha...!"
"This is rich... absolutely hilarious... hahahahaha!"
Malekith's unrestrained laughter echoed across the vast skies of Svartalfheim. He was genuinely entertained by The Other's manner of declaring loyalty.
In all his near ten thousand years of life, Malekith had never met anyone who could dress up betrayal in such a refreshingly brazen manner.
Without the slightest trace of hesitation or guilt, The Other had even shattered the jeweled scepter used to control his attacks, entirely on his own.
A promising talent. Truly not bad. Malekith was very pleased.
"Do you see this, son of Thanos?"
"Your subordinate has betrayed you."
Lifting his foot off Lothar's back, Malekith casually curled a finger, and Lothar's battered body floated slowly up from the ground. Seizing him by his jet-black hair, Malekith forced Lothar's gaze to lock onto the sight of The Other's betrayal, his voice brimming with amusement.
"Betrayed you—right before your very eyes."
But in Lothar's cold, detached gaze, Malekith found none of the reaction he desired, dampening his enjoyment.
Humiliation only meant something when both sides reacted. Without the slightest emotional fluctuation from the humiliated party, where was the fun?
"Just a piece of worthless trash, chasing after the wind."
Someone capable of betraying the former Chitauri King for Thanos, his adoptive father, would naturally betray again when convenient. Though a fleeting anger and inexplicable disappointment surfaced within Lothar, suppressing these unpleasant emotions was hardly difficult for him.
"You make a good point," Malekith said, frowning as he stood with hands clasped behind his back, growing weary of Lothar's unshakable composure.
"Hey, you—" He turned to The Other, eyes glinting coldly. "Want to finish him yourself?"
There was no room for refusal in his tone.
"As you command, my king," The Other answered respectfully, bowing low. Gripping the broken scepter tightly, he stepped towards Lothar, whose body was still imprisoned by the power of the Aether. The jagged fractures of the scepter shimmered with a chilling, bloodthirsty light.
"My apologies, Prince Lothar."
Standing before Lothar, The Other saluted with the habitual formality, then discarded the broken haft of the scepter. With his left hand, he seized the top of the staff—gripping the embedded Mind Stone directly!
BOOM!
"AAAAAHHH!!!"
A blinding burst of light erupted from the Mind Stone the moment The Other tore it free from the scepter!
"The road ahead... I fear I cannot walk it with you," he whispered in farewell—a soft murmur that made Lothar's normally impassive eyes widen sharply.
Driven by sheer force of will, The Other ignited the power within the Mind Stone. Having once witnessed the battle between Lothar and Shafrin from the royal stands of Planet U40, The Other understood: he didn't need to know how to wield the Stone properly—he only needed to imitate what he had seen before.
He remembered it clearly: Shafrin had once boasted that this technique could shatter the very stars of the galaxy.
Malekith might be powerful—but stronger than a star?
The Other laughed grimly to himself. His semi-organic, semi-mechanical body was disintegrating under the immense, unstable energy, but he no longer cared.
Lothar and Malekith were mere steps apart—close enough for a direct hit.
With the Mind Stone's power flowing through him, The Other hurled a glowing, explosive punch straight at Malekith!
BANG!
BANG BANG BANG!!!
Blast after blast sounded as the layers of Malekith's distorted reality shields shattered one after another. Yet even at its zenith, the Mind Stone's brilliance couldn't pierce the final barrier standing before Malekith.
"Such tedious loyalty," Malekith sneered.
Prepared for such an attack, Malekith raised his right index finger and flicked it through the air. A surge of Reality Stone energy gathered instantly and obliterated half of The Other's body!
"But it's just—what?!"
Before Malekith could finish mocking him, his eyes widened in shock: the half-ruined husk of The Other still surged forward, delivering one last, gleaming punch!
"Our Chitauri race," The Other snarled, "is built of bio-mechanical bodies!"
"So long as our core data survives, we do not die!"
"Prince Lothar! Once you're free, run! Leave this place at once!"
With a final, desperate roar, The Other's life-ignited punch shattered Malekith's last defensive shield!
Caught off guard, the King of the Dark Elves was slammed violently into the ground—though otherwise unharmed, he felt humiliated beyond measure.
As for The Other—he disintegrated into fine, tea-colored dust, smiling with relief as his essence scattered into the air...
Before setting out for Svartalfheim, The Other had sworn: to repay Lothar's trust in returning the Chitauri's sacred scepter, he would serve Lothar across generations if he must. Now, he had fulfilled that vow—at the cost of his life.
"Run, Lothar, run!"
Malekith, battered and furious, had barely hit the ground when Lothar and Hela were freed from their Aether bindings, plummeting through the air amid clouds of dust.
But Lothar didn't even glance at Hela. He stood there, transfixed, gazing at the drifting sand that had once been The Other.
Why?
All his life, Lothar had been taught through brutal lessons that such actions were foolish. Yet—
Even though he had always treated The Other harshly—ordering him to "shut up," to "get lost"—still...
"You all deserve to die!" roared Malekith, unleashing an overwhelming shockwave of energy toward Lothar and Hela.
But before it could strike them, a massive robot descended from the sky, raising a huge round shield to block the blast.
"What the—?!"
"Lord Lothar, get out of here!" shouted a familiar voice.
Looking up, Lothar saw a towering mechanical lifeform—cobbled together from the parts of dozens of warships—shielding him protectively.
"Woz?"
"Yes, Lord Lothar," the machine answered.
"Why?" Lothar asked hoarsely.
"Woz is your combat support AI," the robot intoned, introducing itself just as it had the first time they met years ago:
'Greetings, Lord Lothar. I am Woz, your combat support artificial intelligence.'
When he was just one year old, a bright blue robotic cat had stretched out its paw to him with a big grin—while another, named Gaitz, was assigned to manage his daily life.
"Woz... initiate forced shutdown..." Lothar's voice trembled as he issued the command.
"Woz refuses," the robot replied firmly. "Your safety is paramount, Lord Lothar. Please follow the escape route Woz prepared and—"
The sentence was never finished.
In mere seconds, the massive shield before Woz was obliterated into ash. Inky black tendrils lashed out, dismembering the colossal machine. Woz's head rolled to a stop at Lothar's feet.
Lothar reached for it, but the instant his fingers touched the metal, it crumbled into dust and blew away on the wind.
"Woz?"
He licked his lips, whispering.
"Woz?"
He pressed his lips tight, voice trembling.
"WOZ!!!!!!"
"WOZ!!!!!!!!!!"
His hysterical screams were answered only by Hela's sharp bark: "Get a hold of yourself, Lothar!"
"We cannot defeat him right now!"
In Hela's judgment, Malekith, empowered by the Aether, had grown far beyond anything the two of them could contend with. Their only chance was to retreat—immediately.
"Tch."
Lowering his eyes, Lothar stood still. Waves of energy rippled from beneath his feet, blurring Hela's vision. For a moment, she couldn't even see his face clearly.
"I can't understand losing," Lothar whispered.
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