The Grandmaster's palace was less of a palace and more like a top-tier nightclub that never closed.
Heavy bass thumped against the chest with every beat. The air was thick with the mixed scents of hundreds of alien spices, alcohol, and sweat—so pungent it made your head ache. Levi leaned against a glowing energy pillar, holding a glass of blue liquid that he hadn't touched once.
Here, he didn't trust anything he hadn't taken out himself.
All of his attention was on his own body.
The place where Hela had pierced his ribs still throbbed faintly. That wasn't an ordinary wound—it was a nail forged from the Law of Death, driven into his flesh and bone like a black plant constantly feeding on his life force.
The Law of the Body could barely maintain a fragile balance, preventing the wound from worsening, but that cold, sinister energy refused to leave.
The Grandmaster lounged on his floating couch, surrounded by several alluring green-skinned attendants who were feeding him purple fruits.
He looked like he wasn't paying attention to Levi, but Levi knew better—the old monster's peripheral vision hadn't left him for a second.
The creature had lived far too long. His nose for power was sharper than a hunting dog's.
Sure enough, before long the Grandmaster floated over, swaying slightly with a glass of wine in hand, a merchant's fake smile plastered across his face.
"How is it, my new friend?" He raised his glass. "Do you like my party? The best party in the universe—no competition."
Levi ignored the pleasantries and asked directly,
"How do I leave this planet?"
The Grandmaster burst into exaggerated laughter, his body shaking on the sofa.
"Leave? My friend, why would you want to leave paradise?" he said theatrically. "Here, with strength, you can have everything! Look at my arena—every day the most spectacular battles in the universe take place! The losers become dust in history, and the winners become eternal legends!"
He leaned closer, lowering his voice, eyes glittering.
"Your ability is very… special. My people described it to me. Erasing matter directly—now that's a first. What are you? A lost god? Or the ultimate weapon of some civilization?"
"Just passing through," Levi replied briefly.
He had no interest in playing word games with this slippery old fox.
Enduring it like this wasn't an option. Hela's Law of Death was far too domineering, constantly draining his energy.
He thought of the power he had copied from the Reality Stone—the Law of Reality.
Using one law… to counter another.
It was a crazy idea.
The power of the Reality Stone was full of corruption and distortion. One misstep, and he might be assimilated by its madness.
But he had no choice.
Closing his eyes, he separated a sliver of his consciousness and plunged it into that chaotic crimson ocean.
With a buzz, countless disordered thoughts, mad whispers, and inverted logic flooded into his mind. He felt like he was about to be torn apart.
[Willpower Barrier] activated at full power.
He clung desperately to a single thought:
This wound… does not exist.
Not healing.
Not expelling.
But denying the wound's existence entirely—at the conceptual level, at the very root of reality.
Levi's body trembled violently. He let out a muffled grunt, his face turning several shades paler.
He could feel the black death energy lodged in his body release a silent scream the moment it touched the red energy.
But the power of the Reality Stone didn't care about logic.
It simply rewrote the rules.
The black energy vanished from his body like pencil marks erased by a rubber.
Gone without a trace.
It worked.
Levi slowly exhaled a long breath. His back was already soaked with cold sweat. He felt he had gained another dangerously deeper understanding of how to use the Law of Reality.
Just then, a commotion erupted at the palace entrance.
Two guards over three meters tall, clad in heavy armor, dragged someone inside like a dead dog.
The man's head hung low. His blond hair was a messy tangle, hacked unevenly like it had been chewed by a dog. He wore ragged gladiator clothing.
But Levi recognized him instantly.
Thor.
Following behind was a wrinkled human old man wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt. In his hand was a strange pair of scissors still crackling with electric sparks. He muttered complaints under his breath as if grumbling about how troublesome the job had been.
The moment the Grandmaster saw Thor, his eyes lit up and he sat up straight on his couch.
"Aha! Look who it is! The little prince of Asgard! Looks like the Valkyrie did well this time—brought me back a proper toy."
As the barber passed by Levi, he suddenly stopped.
He leaned closer and sniffed him hard, his nose nearly pressing against Levi's clothes.
"Strange…" A trace of confusion flickered in his cloudy eyes. Staring at Levi, he muttered in a voice barely audible, "People who fall from the sky usually smell like lightning… or fire… or desperation gone sour. But you… I don't remember this smell."
Levi's heart skipped a beat.
Isn't that Stan Lee's cameo from the movie? Could he actually know who I am?
The Grandmaster waved his hand impatiently.
"Old man, what nonsense are you muttering now?"
The old man shook his head and stopped looking at Levi.
"Nothing," he said as he walked away. "Just feels like among this batch of new arrivals… someone might've been labeled wrong."
Levi watched his retreating back and asked the Grandmaster,
"Who's that barber?"
"Him?" The Grandmaster replied carelessly. "Oh, that's Stan. Just a crazy old man. When I arrived here, he was already around—older than most of the junk on this planet. Ignore him. The radiation here fried his brain long ago."
The Grandmaster's attention quickly returned to Thor. He floated over and circled him twice, poking Thor's solid arm with a thin finger.
"The God of Thunder?" the Grandmaster dragged out the words mockingly. "I've heard of you. Prince of Asgard… can you really make thunder?"
Laughter erupted from the surrounding guests.
Thor's face flushed red. He suddenly struggled and roared at the Grandmaster,
"Let me go! You monster! You'll pay for this insult!"
"I love paying the price!" the Grandmaster laughed even harder, clapping his hands. "Angry gladiators sell better tickets! The audience loves watching arrogant warriors like you look utterly hopeless when my champion tears you to pieces!"
Just then, Loki's illusion silently appeared beside the Grandmaster's couch.
Holding a glass of wine, he bowed gracefully.
"My honored friend," he said to the Grandmaster, though his eyes flicked toward Levi, "I should warn you—my brother may not be very bright, but he can fight. You'd best give him a sufficiently sturdy opponent… lest the entertainment disappoint."
"Relax!" the Grandmaster waved a hand. "My champion has never lost! He'll tear apart this Asgardian chicken bone by bone!"
He snapped his fingers.
A holographic projection lit up in the center of the palace.
A five-meter-tall stone monster appeared in the image. It had four massive arms, and flames burned from the joints.
In the footage, it grabbed a gigantic alien beast and tore it into four pieces before stuffing the chunks into its rocky mouth.
The guests exploded into frenzied cheers and screams.
For the first time, Thor's anger was replaced with a trace of gravity. Without his hammer, facing a pure brute-force monster like that, he had no confidence at all.
The Grandmaster was very satisfied with Thor's reaction. Pointing at him, he ordered:
"Take him away! Clean him up and put him in proper gladiator gear! My champion can't wait to taste some roasted Asgardian chicken!"
The guards dragged away Thor, who was still shouting curses, disappearing into the corridor.
The Grandmaster floated back beside Levi, wrapping an arm around his shoulder like an old friend and pointing toward a balcony with the best view.
"Come, my most mysterious guest! The show is about to begin—I've saved the best seat for you!"
Levi glanced in the direction Thor had been taken, then at Loki watching the spectacle from the corner.
His expression remained calm, without the slightest ripple.
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