Hela's POV
After my grand announcement—declaring myself the absolute ruler of all Hell, I did what any sensible Queen would do: I cleaned my place. Neatly, efficiently, and dare I say, fabulously.
Those who were of no use? Gone. Those with potential? Spared. Mephisto, of course, was among the lucky few. Not out of mercy, mind you—I simply couldn't be bothered to deal with his metaphysical respawn nonsense today.
You see, in some versions of reality, Mephisto is evil itself. Kill him, and he just respawns like a glitchy game boss in his own Hell.
So instead of wasting effort, I wrapped him up in a neat little space-time bubble, muffling his annoying monologue in the process. I couldn't hear a thing he said after that, which, frankly, improved my mood immensely.
With that handled, I restored the battlefield to its pristine pre-fight glory. A flick of power here, a cosmic nudge there—voilà, good as new.
Then I dropped the protective barrier around the spectators and teleported them all into the open space, where they could breathe again and hopefully appreciate the view.
Then came the speech. Every Queen needs her moment.
"As you can see," I began, regal and glorious as ever, "you are weak. Very weak. Don't cling to past achievements. Your tech? Outdated. Your survival? A miracle. You've been playing pretend in a universe that doesn't care if you're ready."
I took a slow look around. Silence. Perfect.
"There are beings far stronger than Mephisto—creatures who can wipe Earth out with a snap of their fingers. Civilizations that have been surfing the stars since before your kind discovered fire. Beings who move at light speed, beings who can control space or time. You're not ready for any of it—but you will be, under me."
I let my voice soften, just slightly. Noble doesn't mean cold.
"In my kingdom, race, belief, and origin no longer divide. You are one people: my people. Citizens of Hel."
"I will protect you. Under my rule, no enemy shall harm you. You will never starve, never be caged by your dreams. If you contribute to Hel's growth, if you help shape the future of my kingdom, I will grant you immortality—freedom from aging, from natural death. You'll live to see the stars burn out."
And then came the kicker, the line that would be remembered in every retelling.
"So, to those who came here to join my kingdom—kneel, and swear your loyalty. Pledge yourselves to this Queen."
This was no random call for followers. It was a test. A final filter to separate the worthy from the wastes of space. I knew some had come to spy, to scheme. This was their last chance to prove they could be useful—or they'd be vaporized before dessert.
It also served a second purpose. Earth needed to see the truth: the universe is vast, dangerous, and utterly indifferent. But with me, they had a chance. A real one.
What I didn't expect? Who stepped forward first.
"I, Max Eisenhardt," a voice rang out, steady and sharp, "swear upon my name to serve the kingdom, so long as you keep your promise—to protect, and to judge not by blood but by action. I will give my all to defend the place that I consider my home."
Magneto. Not with his usual dramatic flair or that brooding look he wears like a second helmet—no, he spoke plainly, and with his real name, no less. Max.
It wasn't some grand ritual or blood-oath ceremony, but who cares about tradition when a man like him pledges his loyalty? I had already scanned every mind here. I knew who was bluffing and who was sincere. And Magneto? He meant it. As long as I kept my promise, he was ready to bet his life on me.
Which… was kind of weird coming from him, if I'm being honest.
And then she stepped forward—radiant, regal, a storm barely held in check.
"I am Ororo Munroe," she said. "My people call me a Goddess."
"I lead my people in a land overflowing with natural resources. A paradise, truly. I even help with the nature, controlling the weather to keep everything in balance. But… paradise is useless when the world beyond your borders wants nothing more than to clip your wings."
Her voice was calm, steady, but the weight behind it? It was that of someone who took responsibility he doesn't have to—just because she can. "Even now, I stand here alone because my people can't come with me. Not without encountering discrimination. I've always been aware of my limits. I know I can't protect them forever. I'm not blind."
She paused, eyes meeting mine.
"But after watching your battle and the beings you described—I realized just how shallow my strength really is. You spoke of power, of true protection."
She lowered her head slightly. "So, in the name of my people, I ask for your help. In return, I promise this: whether it's me or my people, we will give everything we have. We'll defend the land we are given with tooth, nail, and soul… and we'll pledge our loyalty, with no hesitation."
Dramatic? Absolutely. But she wasn't bluffing. I never expected this from her after Magneto. Apparently, the offer of a place where you won't be discriminated against or hated for what you are is more delicious than I thought.
Then again, maybe it isn't so surprising.
Wherever people gather, divisions follow. And when there's division, there's always a majority… and the ones left out. Always. The excluded, the different, the dangerous. The ones who are told to shrink themselves down until they disappear.
If this were 2025, I wouldn't be surprised if ten million people lined up just from America alone. And this is Marvel's Earth—by that time, after everything they've seen, heroes and villains smashing through cities like toddlers in a tantrum—I bet there'll be even more.
Still, my eyes drifted back to Ororo because I felt something unexpected from her. Blessings.
Like real blessings, the kind real gods give.
She was carrying two blessings. Both potent. Both familiar.
These weren't gifts from some D-list deity playing dress-up. No, the ones who marked her? Easily on Odin's level—no, higher. And I had a pretty good idea who they were.
Storm's not some one-off version of herself. Like most Marvel characters, she's got enough alternate selves to fill a stadium. But the constants? She's a descendant of an Elder God—and she summoned Gaia. That's no small feat.
If memory serves, she's descended from Agamotto—yes, that Agamotto—who in turn is the son of Oshtur, Gaia's own sister. Which means Storm carries Oshtur's divine essence in her veins. That would explain the first blessing.
As for the second? Gaia. In the comics, it was clear that when she was worshipped as a literal goddess in Africa—before she ever rejoined the X-Men—Storm summoned Gaia herself.
After that, Gaia became some kind of patron to Storm—so much so that in some stories, she explicitly calls upon Gaea or the Goddess when using her powers.
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"Worry not," I said, my voice cool and composed, still laced with that formality I'd used when addressing Magneto earlier. "As I mentioned before, discrimination holds no place in my realm. Before me, all stand equal. So long as your people swear their loyalty and don't bring chaos to my kingdom, they shall be under my protection."
Now, I can joke and tease with Jean and Wanda—they're mine, after all—but I'm not about to drop royal decorum in front of potential subjects. There's a line, and I fully intend to keep it drawn in golden ink.
Once I finished speaking, I reached out with my mind for two seconds before finding what I wanted. The barrier I created earlier, separating the Hanging Gardens from Earth, was already gone—dissipated by me, of course.
I focused on Storm's people, those tribes whose history clung to them despite all the work done by the Europeans before. I didn't pry. I simply asked, telepathically, "Who among you is ready to follow me?"
No force, no threats—just an invitation from a goddess. A queen.
Those who were ready answered. Most were, unsurprisingly. It's not every day a divine monarch offers you a seat at her table, after all.
As for the ones still clutching the past, their heritage, or their fears? I understood. Leaving behind everything you've known isn't easy—especially the older you are.
I teleported the willing directly to the Gardens. One moment they were rooted in the dust of Earth, the next, basking in the presence of my divine splendor.
And oh, what a crowd they made. I glanced at the gathering of people and raised a brow. Now, two million strong—give or take. A dazzling sea of life within my domain.
If I had to wait for each one of them to kneel and swear fealty individually? Please. I might as well pencil Ragnarok into my calendar.
...
AN: Okay guys, I'm so done. I stated earlier that I had made up my mind to leave school, and I didn't take the exam—and well, the results are out. I saw a call from my mother earlier. She probably heard some of the news and doesn't know what to do.