The Valkyries' power was precise and lethal; every strike claimed an enemy.
They tore a massive gap in the black tide, like a golden blade cutting through a piece of black fabric.
The Undead Legion moved as well; those ancient warriors charged in silence—no shouts, no battle cries, only the heavy sound of footsteps and the clashing of armor.
They charged into the formation of the Outriders, using swords, spears, and fists to strike down the black monsters one by one.
Fenrir charged at the very front; his size made the Outriders appear as small as ants.
He opened his jaws, crushing a dozen Outriders in a single bite, then tossed them away, slamming them into a transport ship in the distance and leaving deep dents.
His claws swept by, slicing a row of Outriders in half, and black blood gushed out like a fountain. His roar echoed across the battlefield, causing even the Outriders, creatures devoid of fear, to hesitate for an instant before him.
Hela stood on the city wall, watching the battlefield.
Her expression was calm, as if she were watching a performance that had nothing to do with her.
But her hands did not stop; every few seconds, she fired off black swords, precisely striking the Outriders attempting to bypass the defensive line.
Her gaze turned toward the sky; the largest transport ship was hovering beneath the rift, its bow tilted slightly as if it were observing the battlefield.
She could sense two powerful entities on that ship.
Corvus Glaive and Proxima Midnight.
The curve of Hela's lips deepened. "Still not willing to show yourself?"
She leaped off the wall and landed on the battlefield, Death Energy exploding around her and blasting the surrounding Outriders dozens of meters away.
She walked forward slowly, leaving a deep footprint on the ground with every step, and with every step, more Outriders fell around her.
"Come out." Hela's voice echoed across the battlefield. "Hiding and skulking is not Thanos's style."
The hatch of that transport ship opened.
Two figures stepped out from the hatch, treading directly onto the golden land of Asgard without the aid of any flight equipment.
The moment they landed, the ground shook violently, and the surrounding Outriders automatically parted to create a path, like subjects welcoming their monarch.
Corvus Glaive wore black armor and a long, spiked helmet, gripping a massive double-edged glaive in his hand.
That glaive was his weapon and also his soul; as long as the glaive remained unbroken, he would not die.
His eyes were cold and cruel, like a Beast that would never be satisfied.
Proxima Midnight stood beside him, wearing purple armor, her figure slender and full of power, holding a black spear in her hand.
That spear was a weapon bestowed upon her by Thanos himself, containing Cosmic Energy, and it could pierce through any material.
Her gaze was even calmer than Corvus Glaive's, like a blade that had waited too long in its sheath.
Corvus Glaive looked at Hela, his mouth slowly cracking into a smile.
"The Goddess of Death of Asgard, Odin's daughter, My Lord Thanos says you are dangerous."
Hela looked at him, her deep green eyes devoid of ripples.
"He is right."
Proxima Midnight did not speak; she raised her spear, its tip glowing with purple light, and pointed it at Hela.
Hela raised her hand, and a black sword condensed in her palm.
"Then come and try."
Corvus Glaive moved first; his glaive was as fast as lightning, leaving a black afterimage in the air as he slashed straight at Hela's neck.
Hela dodged to the side, her black sword catching the side of the glaive, and she followed through by slashing downward at Corvus Glaive's fingers. He pulled back to defend, spinning the glaive half a turn, and slashed again toward Hela's waist.
Proxima Midnight attacked simultaneously, her spear thrusting from the side at a tricky angle, aiming straight for Hela's heart.
Hela parried with another black sword. The two weapons collided, sparks flying everywhere. Proxima Midnight's strength was greater than anticipated, and Hela was jolted back half a step.
Corvus Glaive's glaive was as fast as lightning, each swing leaving black afterimages in the air.
He needed no technique; his glaive was the technique. It would find the enemy's weaknesses on its own, adjust its angle on its own, and choose the most lethal attack path on its own.
Hela's black sword collided with it dozens of times, sparking brilliantly with every strike.
Proxima Midnight's spear was even more dangerous; in her hands, it seemed alive—thrusting, parrying, sweeping, and slashing, each attack precisely targeting Hela's lethal points.
Her speed was extreme, so fast that it didn't seem possible for a living being, appearing more like some kind of precisely calculated machine.
The two coordinated seamlessly—one high and one low, one left and one right—sandwiching Hela in the middle.
Every swing of Corvus Glaive's glaive carried a lethal chill, and every thrust of Proxima Midnight's spear precisely targeted Hela's openings.
Their attack rhythm was dense and synchronized, as if they had coordinated thousands of times.
Hela was forced back a dozen steps, but she was not injured.
Her black swords spun in front of her like a shield, blocking all attacks.
Her eyes remained calm, even showing a hint of interest; these two were indeed much more interesting than those Outriders.
Corvus Glaive's glaive slashed at Hela's neck; Hela dodged to the side, her black sword grazing the blade of the glaive and sparking a string of fire.
Proxima Midnight thrust her spear from the side; Hela raised her leg and kicked the shaft of the spear, deflecting its trajectory, then backhanded a sword strike toward Proxima Midnight's face.
Proxima Midnight stepped back half a step, dodging the sword, but her helmet was cracked by the wake of the black sword.
The two pulled back, surrounding Hela in a pincer formation.
Hela looked at them, the corners of her mouth curling up slightly.
"Thanos sent you, and this is all the skill you brought?"
Corvus Glaive's eyes turned gloomy.
"You will regret saying that."
He charged up again.
Hela did not retreat; she also charged forward. The black sword in her hand transformed into a giant blade, colliding with Corvus Glaive's glaive and emitting a thunderous boom.
The Impact sent the surrounding Outriders flying dozens of meters away, and the ground cracked and sank beneath their feet.
Proxima Midnight's spear thrust again; Hela grabbed the spear tip with her other hand, barehanded.
Proxima Midnight was stunned. She tried hard to pull the spear back, but Hela's hand gripped the spear tip like an iron pincer, unmoved.
With her other hand, she punched Proxima Midnight in the chest. Proxima Midnight was sent flying, slamming into the transport ship behind her and creating a deep dent before sliding down, blood at the corner of her mouth.
Corvus Glaive's glaive slashed again; Hela leaned back to dodge and backhanded, grabbing his wrist.
Her strength far exceeded Corvus Glaive's expectations; he was dragged forward, stumbling two steps. Hela kneed him in the abdomen, and he let out a muffled grunt, his glaive nearly slipping from his hand.
"You—" A hint of emotional fluctuation finally appeared in Corvus Glaive's voice.
Hela looked at him, her eyes cold.
"Did Thanos not tell you not to provoke Asgard easily?"
She exerted force and snapped it; Corvus Glaive's wrist broke, and the glaive flew from his hand, sticking into the battlefield in the distance.