(Okay, I was a little cocky yesterday sorry, here's a 2,2K words chapter)
(So I was consuming caffeine-related products all day to pump out more chapters, but turns out it doesn't really work with ADHD. That's probably why I always feel so sleepyâmy brain's just overcooking, lmao đ¤Ł)
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Hela's POV
Intimidating people is absurdly easy right now. I mean, come onâI've got dominion over souls and mind powers thanks to Jean Grey's X-gene.
I don't even have to try. Just a whisper of dread into their soul, a sprinkle of existential terror in their mind, and voilĂ ! Instant silence, wide eyes, and pants probably ruined.
It's like unlocking a cheat code in a horror game: "Press X to terrify everyone."
But I'm not dumb enough to believe that this display of fear will be enough to keep everyone in line forever. Someone always gets brave after the panic wears off.
Someone always thinks they're the exception to the rule. And then someone ends up very, very dead. I'd prefer to skip that whole song and dance, to be honest.
I did consider going full Michael Bay and blowing up a planet or two for dramatic flairâmaybe even part the oceans like a diva Moses cosplay. Honestly, my internal dialogue went something like: "Should I try pulling out a Meteorite like Madara did but this time, one as big as New York?" But then I was like Nah, not yet the time.
So, no flashy celestial fireworks... yet.
I have my eyes on a better prize. The Space Stone. First rule of being an overpowered death goddess with a system that wants you to provoke everyone as an enemy: always get the teleportation tool before you start picking planetary fights. It's just common sense. Well, transmigrator common sense, anyway.
I'm also well aware that my little power play and speech just now probably pissed off several big-name entitiesâMephisto, Donnmamu and all others Hell-Lords probably. After all, if souls start going to my underworld instead of them? That's a serious hit to their hellish stock portfolio.
And they are not alone. Earth has always been a tug-of-war arena for cosmic players, and I've just walked in, kicked over the chessboard, and claimed half the pieces as mine.
I can't afford to be caught lacking'.
No seriously, I literally can't. One misstep and I'll end up in some eldritch snare, banished to a pocket dimension, or forced into a morally complicated contract.
I turned toward Magneto, who looked like he'd just seen the ghost of Charles Xavier tap-dance across his helmet.
Understandable. He's going to need time. They all are. Humans, mutants, and that one SHIELD agent in the bushes who thinks I haven't noticed him? Yeah, they all need to process.
"I'll give you seven days to think about it," I said smoothly, like I wasn't offering them an existential deal with Death Herself.
Then I turned to the drone floating again.
"The same goes for everyone watching. Anyone who wants to join me, come to this location in seven days. And don't worry about interference from governments or alphabet agenciesâI'll handle them."
By 'handle,' I of course mean intimidate into paralysis, but let's not ruin the surprise.
Then I turned to the X-Men. Poor Cyclops was down for the count, bleeding heavily, a single thread away from joining the kingdom of death, hehe.
I glanced at Jean, still reeling from the whole drama that happened.
"I've got something to do," I said casually, as if I hadn't been caught you know, hiding something. "See you at the X-Mansion."
We've already had our little adventure, and now that she's got some soul separation experience, she'll manage with just her astral form. That's the thing with cosmic entitiesâwe're very... flexible.
Before she could respond, ask questions, I vanished, definitely not because I'm embarrassed.
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Magneto's POV
Have you ever believedâtruly believedâthat you were the center of history? That for once, the world would bear witness to your purpose, your triumph, your moment?
And then, just as the moment begins to shine, someone steps in. Not to challenge you. Not to rise beside you. But to steal the light entirely, as if you were merely a footnote in their story.
That's what this felt like.
The operation was flawless. Simpler than anticipated. Seizing control of the military base was like walking through an open door.
The resistanceâif one can call it thatâwas half-hearted at best. The American government, for all its bravado, sent little more than tin soldiers to defend their precious facility. They still believe guns can stop the future.
And then, there was SHIELD.
Mystique uncovered more than enough. A global network. Hidden budgets. A mandate to "mkprotect the world' from the unknown.
In truth? A handful of well-funded men and women grasping at powers far beyond them. Humans playing chess on a board they don't understandâthinking they are gods because they have satellites and secrets.
But no matter. I expected human interference.
What I did not expect was Charles.
Of course, I should have.
Charles Xavierâalways the idealist, always the voice of peace, forever protected by his wealth and noble upbringing.
The man who inherited a mansion and influence while the rest of us inherited scars and graves. He speaks of harmony, of integration, while never knowing what it is to run, to hide, to bleed for being born different.
He is not like us. Not truly.
The world embraced him because he was gentle, because he made no demands. Because he fit in.
The rest of us? We are feared. Hated. Hunted. We learn early that kindness will not save us. That using our giftsâeven to helpâmakes us monsters in their eyes. I learned that lesson the day I lost everything.
A single act of compassion... and I was branded a threat. My family taken. My life reduced to ashes.
And I am not alone in that pain.
There are othersâmanyâwho suffered far worse. Those who lacked the strength to fight back. Who were taken. Tortured. Turned into test subjects, into experiments. Forgotten by history. They died screaming in silence.
I will not allow it to happen again.
I built the Brotherhood to ensure it wouldn't. We are the next stage of evolution, and evolution does not apologize. If the world denies our freedom, we will take it. If they fear us, let them. Fear is the first step to respect.
So when we struck, it was not terrorism. It was declaration.
We would be seen. We would be heard.
And we were.
Until Jean Grey intervened.
Charles's prize pupil. A girl of good psychic potential. I had heard of her strength, but even I underestimated her. In anger, she disabled Mastermind.
Then several of my men. Her power was raw, unfocusedâyet devastating. The humans didn't even have to fight. She did their work for them.
I was not angry at the girl. I was angry at him. At Charlesâfor shaping a weapon while preaching peace. For raising a lioness and expecting her to purr.
I stepped in. I had no choice. She met me with power that should not exist in one so young. Her telekinesis stopped all the things towards the soldiers that I attacked which was incredible.
If I had trained her⌠If she had chosen my pathâŚ
No matter. Fate turned when the laser-eyed boyâScottâwas injured. Jean's focus shattered. She hesitated. I did not.
The battle shifted. I regained control. And JeanâŚ
She began speaking to no one.
I hovered, wary, uncertain. At first, I thought she had snapped. Too much power. Too little guidance. I almost pitied her.
Then she changed.
It was not physical. But her very presence shifted. Gone was the frightened girl. In her place stood something elseâmadness, crazy, lethal. Her eyes no longer looked at me. They looked through me.
And then she cried out a name.
Odin.
My blood chilled.
I am not a man given to myths. But even I know the weight that name carries. Asgard. The gods of old. Stories told to children.
Yet... when she spoke it, the sky answered.
The clouds tore open, and a figure descendedâgolden, radiant, terrible. And I, who had faced down armies and survived Auschwitz, felt some kind of uncertainty.
They did not introduce themselves. They did not acknowledge me. Not even a glance.
And thenâbecause apparently this theatre was not finishedâa bald woman arrived through a portal. No sound. No spectacle. Simply appeared.
And the godsâthe godsâgave her respect.
It was not lost on me.
So I asked, with the measured dignity one must keep in madness:
"Excuse me. But who are you?"
A simple question. Not of power, but of identity. I do not fear opponents. I study them.
Though I heard the names exchangedâOdin, she called him, and he answered with Helaâthat wasn't what interested me.
Names are just labels. What I wanted was something far deeper: the truth of what I was witnessing. The nature of the power before me.
It was the bald woman who answered meânot with clarity, but with what I can only describe as amused teasing (from his POV). The kind you give a student asking questions well beyond his level. I did not act. I've learned not to lash out blindly.
Fortunately, I was spared the indignity of replying, because 'Jean'âor what Jean had become, Helaâspoke up.
She mentioned some kind of deal between her and Jean. Then, as if to punctuate how meaningless I was to this cosmic conversation, she casually remarked that I was 'lucky.' Lucky, because she can't remove le yet because she have something more important to deal with.
As if I were some minor character in her story, to be kept around for atmosphere.
I was not particularly fond of that.
I opened my mouth to speak, to remind her that I am no one's afterthoughtâbut before I could utter a single syllable, she glanced in my direction. And just like that, every mutant presentâexcept Mystique, Juggernaut, and myselfâfell unconscious.
No sound. No dramatic flash. Just silence.
And the terrifying understanding that she had chosen who remained awake.
And no only that, in that moment, she raised a swordânot summoned from a sheath, not drawn from some ancient relic. No. It appeared in her hand, conjured from nothingness since the beginning.
And it wasn't made of metal.
I tested it, instinctively, the way you breathe without thinking. No response. No iron, no steel. No connection to the element I command.
Worse still, there was something else to it. A sensation that crawled beneath my skin, that made the air feel thick and wrong.
The blade pulsedânot with heat, not with light, but with something more fundamental. It was as though it reached inside me⌠and reminded me that I still possess fear.
It's not a feeling I often encounter. But in her presence, I felt it again. Not terror. Not panic.
But the ancient fear of annihilation. The kind I haven't known since I stood behind electrified fences as a boy.
She said nothing to me after that. Just turned, as though I no longer warranted attention, and resumed her conversation with the manâher father, apparently.
Yes. That was when the true scope of this madness revealed itself.
They spoke of 2,500 years the way one might recall a decade. Calmly. Without grandeur. Just⌠time passed.
He had imprisoned her, long ago, for her ideology. And now, freed, her first act had not been celebrationâbut a vow to destroy Asgard itself.
And somehow, this didn't seem like posturing.
She spoke of building a kingdom. Not for conquest. Not for vengeance. For order. For power. Andâmost surprisinglyâfor mutants.
She extended an offer. A place for our kind. No persecution. No prejudice. No more hiding beneath human society, waiting for the next purge.
I listened.
Of course I did.
But doubt lingered. She called it a kingdomâbut what kind? Was it a nation of the living? Or⌠of the dead?
Would her sanctuary demand our deaths as the price of entry?
Still⌠to hear someone of such power speak of mutants without contempt⌠it was rare. Rare enough to pause and consider.
And what struck me most was that she did not press the issue.
She simply said we could think about it.
Then she disappearedâjust like that. Gone, leaving the weight of her presence behind.
As for me, I remained standing. Alone again with the silence, Mystique at my side, Juggernaut still wide-eyed and unsure.
I'd come to this place intending to make a statement. To remind the world that mutants would no longer be ignored.
Instead, I learned something far more humbling.
There are powers in this world that do not care if we are mutant or man.
And some of them are watching.
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Hey, I wanted to write this from Fury's POVâwatching all this chaos unfold and deciding who wants the smoke with him. Or maybe Thor, with his memories sealed, having a crush on Hela. There are so many funny POVs I could do, but I realized they're a bit irrelevant to the main story. So, I'll turn them into side stories that show everyone's reactions instead.
Also, did I portray Magneto well? I feel like this is the kind of person he'd be.
Finally, thank you, everyone! We made it to third place on the all-time ranking. I really appreciate it. I hope we're not just a short-lived hitâand that I don't mess things up moving forward.