Judgment of the Endless (MarvelxDC)

The golden halls of Asgard trembled with the sound of battle. The Rainbow Bridge, which led to the mighty Bifrost, was consumed in a furious struggle. Lightning crackled, swords clashed, and the sound of war cries filled the air.

At the center of it all stood Heimdall, the ever-vigilant Guardian of the Bifrost, his golden eyes burning with determination. His massive sword, Hofund, gleamed as he held it firmly before him, barring the way.

Opposing him were Lady Sif, Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun—the Warriors Three and the most loyal allies of Thor, the God of Thunder.

Sif's blade was already drawn, her crimson cloak billowing behind her as she glared at Heimdall. "You cannot do this, Heimdall! We must go to Thor!"

Heimdall stood his ground. His voice, deep and unwavering, echoed through the golden chamber.

"My duty is to protect Asgard. The Allfather has given no command to intervene in the affairs of Earth."

Fandral scoffed, flipping his rapier in frustration. "And yet Asgard has long defended the realms from such threats! You know what Thor would do."

"Thor is not here!" Heimdall barked, his patience thinning. "He fights his own battles. Earth is not without its champions!"

Volstagg, gripping his mighty axe, stepped forward. "You think Midgard's champions can stand against both Darkseid and Thanos? You've seen the visions, Heimdall! You know what's coming!"

Silence.

Heimdall's golden eyes flickered, betraying a brief hesitation. He had seen the visions. He had seen the horror unfolding on Earth.

But his duty was clear—Asgard could not interfere without Odin's decree.

Hogun tightened his grip on his weapon. "Then we will force our way through."

Without another word, the battle resumed.

Sif was the first to lunge, her blade clashing against Heimdall's with a shower of sparks. Lightning surged through the chamber as Fandral and Hogun attacked from the flanks, their weapons flashing in quick succession.

Heimdall moved with supernatural speed, parrying three blades at once before delivering a punishing kick that sent Hogun sliding across the floor.

Volstagg roared and swung his axe down, aiming to break through Heimdall's guard. But Heimdall dodged at the last second, his sword slicing across Volstagg's armor, leaving a deep gash.

Still, the massive warrior refused to go down.

"For Thor!" Volstagg bellowed, charging forward once more.

Sif spun around Heimdall, feinting high before aiming for his exposed ribs. Heimdall barely managed to deflect the strike, but Fandral was already upon him, delivering a rapid series of strikes.

For the first time in a long while, Heimdall was struggling.

The warriors of Asgard were relentless.

But Heimdall was still Asgard's mightiest sentinel.

Summoning all his strength, Heimdall unleashed a wave of golden energy, sending the warriors flying backward. Their weapons scattered, their bodies aching from the impact.

Breathing heavily, Heimdall lifted his sword once more.

"Stand down."

Sif wiped the blood from her lip, eyes burning with defiance. "We will not."

Suddenly—

A deafening BOOM echoed through the halls.

The very air hummed with divine power.

A shadow loomed over the battlefield.

The warriors turned—and there he stood.

Odin Borson, the Allfather. (Bor-son...Son of the late King Bor

Clad in his full war armor, the ruler of Asgard radiated divine power. His golden breastplate gleamed, etched with runes of old.

His battle-worn crimson cape billowed as he strode forward, his mighty spear, Gungnir, crackling with energy.

The room fell into a stunned silence.

Odin's one remaining eye swept over the scene, taking in his warriors' defiance, the injuries they had sustained, and the resolute stance of Heimdall.

Then—his gaze hardened.

"Enough."

His voice was not loud, yet it shook the foundations of Asgard itself.

The warriors immediately knelt.

Heimdall straightened, his face unreadable. "Allfather."

Odin strode forward, stopping before Heimdall.

"You have served me well, old friend," Odin said, his voice calm yet firm. "But I have watched long enough."

He turned his gaze to Sif and the others.

"Thor fights for Midgard. And where my son fights, Asgard will follow."

Sif's eyes gleamed with hope.

Odin raised Gungnir high.

"Heimdall," he commanded, "open the Bifrost. Let them through."

Heimdall hesitated only for a moment before bowing his head.

"As you command, Allfather."

He turned and drove Hofund into the central pedestal.

The Bifrost roared to life.

A swirling vortex of light and cosmic energy erupted, forming the bridge to Midgard.

Sif, Fandral, Volstagg, and Hogun stepped forward, ready for war.

Then—

Odin stepped up beside them.

"Allfather?" Sif asked in shock.

Odin's grip on Gungnir tightened.

"This war is not for mortals alone," Odin declared. "It is time the gods remind the universe why Asgard is feared."

And with that—

They stepped into the light.

Their destination: Earth.

-

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[Elsewhere]

In a secluded chamber high above the palace, Loki, the God of Mischief, stood by a grand arched window. His emerald-green cape billowed gently as he gazed down at the shimmering Rainbow Bridge, watching as the final traces of the Bifrost's cosmic energy faded.

Odin was gone.

The mighty Allfather—the one force in Asgard that Loki had never been able to fully deceive, manipulate, or best—had left for Midgard with his most loyal warriors.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Loki's lips.

"Finally."

His fingers tightened around a withered, ancient scroll, its edges cracked and darkened by age. It was a relic so old, so deeply hidden, that even Odin's most trusted scribes had long forgotten it.

But Loki?

Loki had an insatiable curiosity for forbidden things.

And this scroll? It held the truth.

The Forgotten History of Asgard

Loki turned his back on the window, striding toward a massive stone table where several other arcane artifacts lay scattered. A single candle burned low, casting dancing shadows across the walls.

He unfurled the scroll, his sharp green eyes scanning its contents once more.

There, in the faded Asgardian runes, it was written:

"Before Thor, there was another. A daughter of Odin. A being of war and conquest."

Loki's smirk faded as he reread the words, just as fascinated as the first time he had laid eyes on them. Thor was not the eldest child.

Hela was.

Hela, the Goddess of Death.

Odin's firstborn. His true heir before Thor was even a thought.

Loki's fingers traced the inked lines, where the scroll detailed the conquests of Odin and Hela in the early days of Asgard's expansion. Together, they had razed empires, torn down civilizations, and bent entire realms to their will. The Nine Realms had once trembled before Odin's wrath—and at his side stood Hela, the executioner of his will.

But then, something changed.

Odin had grown weary of war. He saw the need for peace.

Hela, however, did not.

She wished for conquest, for endless battle, for Asgard's rule to extend beyond the Nine Realms. She desired dominion over all existence.

Father and daughter clashed.

It was not a mere disagreement. It was a war that shook the very foundations of Asgard itself.

And in the end, Odin, despite all his power, could not kill her.

So he sealed her away. Banished her to a prison that no mortal, no god, no being in the Nine Realms could reach.

The hidden realm of Hel.

Loki exhaled, rolling up the scroll as his thoughts spun like a thousand threads weaving into a grand tapestry.

Odin had left for Midgard.

Thor was absent.

Asgard was leaderless.

And Hela was still out there.

His grin returned. It was time to strike.

Loki moved swiftly through the palace, his footsteps silent against the marble floors. He knew better than to be seen. If Heimdall caught wind of his plan, it would be over before it began.

But Heimdall was focused on Midgard now.

Loki reached a secluded chamber deep beneath the palace—his private sanctum. Dozens of stolen relics, spellbooks, and enchanted artifacts lined the shelves. At the center of the room stood an ornate black mirror, shimmering with dark energy.

It was not just any mirror.

It was a gateway.

One that could take him to Hel.

Loki had found it centuries ago, hidden in the vaults of the Palace. He had never dared to use it—until now.

He raised a single hand, his fingers tracing runes in the air as he began to speak the ancient incantation.

The mirror shuddered, its surface rippling like disturbed water.

Then—

A voice.

Dark. Cold.

A whisper that slithered through his mind like a serpent.

"You seek me, little brother?"

Loki's breath hitched. The connection had been made.

From the depths of the mirror, two emerald eyes—cold, merciless, and filled with ancient rage—snapped open.

Hela was awake.

And she was waiting.

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