Chapter 235 236: Outmatched

Ikaris had not yet made a move; he stood at the edge of the battlefield, watching his teammates grapple with Mavuika and her three companions, his expression calm, yet his eyes calculating rapidly.

He saw Gilgamesh and Thor locked in an evenly matched fight, Tina being toyed with by Loki's illusions, Kingo and Phastos' ranged attacks proving ineffective against Mavuika, Druig still recovering after being repelled, Sprite's illusions being seen through by Loki, and Makkari's speed gaining no advantage against Hela.

His teammates could not defeat those four; he had to intervene.

Ikaris moved.

He did not charge at Mavuika, but instead rushed toward Thor, for he had observed that Thor was the relatively weaker one among the four, and also the one currently entangled with Gilgamesh, momentarily caught off guard.

His speed was fast, though not the extreme speed of Makkari, but rather a more direct, more violent kind of fast.

Like a cannonball, he appeared instantly before Thor, his right fist enveloped in Cosmic Energy, smashing toward Thor's chest.

Thor had no time to dodge and could only raise Mjolnir to block.

The fist struck the hammer head, erupting with a deafening boom; Thor was sent flying, hammer and all, crashing through the wooden house behind him and burying him in the ruins.

Gilgamesh looked at Ikaris, gratitude in his eyes. "Thanks."

Ikaris did not look at him; his gaze had already shifted to Hela.

Hela felt that gaze; she turned her head, looking at Ikaris, the corners of her mouth curling up slightly.

Ikaris said nothing. He raised both hands, the Cosmic Energy in his palms condensing into two golden spheres of light, which grew brighter and brighter, like two small Suns.

Hela also raised her hand, black-green Death Energy condensing around her, transforming into countless black swords that hovered in the air, their tips pointed at Ikaris.

The two stared at each other for a second.

Then they struck simultaneously.

Ikaris pushed the two spheres of light forward; they trailed golden streaks like two meteors, heading straight for Hela.

Hela's black swords also shot out, dozens of them pouring toward Ikaris like a rainstorm.

The golden spheres and the black swords collided in mid-air; the spheres exploded, the black swords shattered, and the Impact spread outward, overturning a layer of the ground as gravel, dirt, and dust filled the air.

Hela stood her ground, not retreating, and Ikaris also stood his ground, not retreating.

The two looked at each other, their eyes both becoming serious.

Hela raised her hand, condensing dozens more black swords.

Ikaris did not speak, but his hands lit up with golden light once again.

The battle erupted once more.

This time, the distance between them was closer, the attacks more intense; Hela's black swords thrust toward Ikaris from every angle, while Ikaris condensed a shield using Cosmic Energy to block all the black swords.

The black swords shattered against the shield, the fragments scattering, only to re-condense under Hela's will and thrust again.

Ikaris's shield began to show cracks—not because he was weak, but because Hela's black swords were endless, each one heavier, faster, and sharper than the last.

Ikaris gritted his teeth, increasing the energy output to the shield; the cracks were filled, and the shield became solid once again.

But Hela upped the ante; her black swords increased from dozens to hundreds, dense and packed, obscuring the sky like a dark cloud.

They hovered above Ikaris's head, tips pointed downward, ready to fall at any moment.

Ikaris's pupils contracted slightly.

He suddenly retracted his shield and leaped up, charging toward Hela; he no longer defended, choosing instead to attack—the most direct, most dangerous kind of attack.

Hela watched him dive down from the air, the curve of her mouth widening.

She abandoned the black swords and charged upward as well.

The two collided in mid-air. Ikaris's fist carried Cosmic Energy, while Hela's fist carried the power of Death.

Fist met fist, erupting with a world-shaking boom; the Impact uprooted the surrounding trees and blew the gravel on the ground hundreds of meters away.

The two exchanged dozens of blows in the air, neither gaining an advantage; Ikaris's Cosmic Energy was thick and enduring, while Hela's power of Death was sharp and eerie.

The two were like two planets colliding, every contact sparking dazzling flashes.

Sersi stood at the edge of the battlefield, watching it all, her hands trembling; she did not want to fight, she did not want to fight the Asgardians, she wanted to uncover the truth and know who had really killed Ajak.

She looked at Mavuika, who was standing in the center of the battlefield, entangled by Kingo and Phastos, yet handling it with ease.

Her flames easily neutralized Kingo's energy blasts and Phastos's weapon attacks, her demeanor as composed as if she were out for a stroll.

Sersi gritted her teeth, raised her hand, and pressed it against the ground; the ground began to change, turning from hard granite into soft swamp.

Mavuika felt the change beneath her feet, looked down, and then laughed softly.

She lifted her foot; the swamp turned into rock beneath her, and the rock shattered under her feet.

The ability of matter transmutation was ineffective against her—not because she could resist the transmutation, but because her power was too strong; the transmuted matter could not withstand her strength and collapsed automatically.

Sersi's expression changed. "How is this possible..."

Mavuika glanced at her. "Your ability is strong, but you need a stronger will to wield it."

Kingo seized the opportunity and rushed up, his fist enveloped in energy, smashing toward Mavuika's side.

Mavuika did not look back, merely shifting slightly to the side; Kingo's fist grazed her clothes, missing its mark.

He stumbled, nearly falling.

Mavuika reached out and patted his shoulder gently.

Kingo's face flushed red, not from pain, but from shame; he had been fighting for thousands of years and had never been "comforted" like this by anyone.

Phastos crawled up from the ruins, picked up the scattered parts, and quickly assembled a new weapon—an energy bow.

He drew the bow and nocked an arrow, the tip aimed at Mavuika.

He released the string, the energy arrow shot out, tracing a golden trajectory through the air, heading straight for Mavuika's heart.

Mavuika raised her hand and caught the arrow between two fingers; the energy arrow struggled in her hand, then extinguished.

Phastos was stunned.

Mavuika tossed away the remains of the arrow and looked at him.

"You are no match for us; stand down."

Phastos was silent for a moment, then lowered the energy bow and stepped back a few paces.

Kingo also stopped his attack, standing there, panting heavily. He looked at Mavuika, his eyes filled with both unwillingness and awe.

Sprite's illusions had been completely broken by Loki; she sat on the ground, clutching the wound on her shoulder with both hands, tears welling up in her eyes—she had lived for thousands of years, yet her appearance remained that of a Damselette.

Druig stood beside her, his face pale; his emotion manipulation was ineffective against Mavuika—not because he was weak, but because Mavuika's will was too strong, and his energy could not penetrate it at all.