CHAPTER 233: CHAPTER 234: SHE STILL OWES ME A REFLECTION ESSAY

"You had better choices, Hela."

"But you chose to throw it all away."

Odin walked slowly toward his daughter, regret heavy in his expression, though tinged with a trace of guilt directed at himself.

"This is what you taught me, wasn’t it?"

Hela let out a carefree laugh. She looked utterly resigned, a blood-red mark blooming at the center of her forehead.

"You’re gambling, Hela. Gambling with your life."

"Exactly," she admitted without hesitation.

"I admit it was a gamble. But unfortunately, I lost."

She shrugged, forcing herself to her feet with visible effort.

Rebellion had never been her intent. All she wanted was to change her father’s mind, to make him abandon the peace treaty with Jotunheim through her actions.

But now... she had no choice but to accept that this was, in truth, rebellion.

She had her pride.

She wouldn’t grovel or plead. She would face death with her head held high.

That much would never change.

Never.

"Hela."

"Don’t look at me like that, Odin. It’s disgusting."

Unable to bear the pity in his eyes, Hela’s expression twisted into something savage.

"You’d better kill me now. Because if you don’t, I’ll escape. And I’ll find the power to destroy you."

To Hela, Odin’s mercy was the ultimate insult.

"I must admit... I failed in your upbringing."

Odin’s voice wavered as he looked upon the face of his daughter, now twisted by hatred and rage. In his hand, the mighty Spear of Heaven trembled, unwilling to fall.

"If you can’t make a decision, allow me to make it for you."

Clang!

The weapon let out a metallic chime as Hela, despite her injuries, bit down on her right index finger. Drops of blood blossomed into glowing, arcane runes beneath a sinister incantation.

Whoosh!

The rune-enchanted blade shot straight toward Odin’s aging skull.

"No!"

From afar, Thor roared in fury, lightning flickering in his eyes beneath the mask. He had seen Hela’s move with frightening clarity.

Now’s my only shot!

Hela never planned to face Odin head-on. But in the fleeting chaos, she launched herself toward the Rainbow Bridge.

Heimdall, for reasons unknown, was injured, and in no shape to stop someone like Hela, who was dead set on fleeing Asgard.

If she could just escape Odin’s pursuit...

Lothar, help me!

I’ve turned against my father. Please, I’m asking you.

Swallowing her pride, the fire of vengeance burning away her restraint, Hela sent a message through a covert channel, reaching the ears of Lothar, far away in the Penal Zone.

More precisely, to the auditory receptors of the intelligent mechanical lifeform Woz.

To her, Lothar was the only one capable of rescuing her from Asgard.

It wasn’t based on logic.

It was faith, in Lothar’s overwhelming strength.

"Prince Lothar, Woz has received a distress signal from Lady Hela."

In the Penal Zone, where there was little to do besides feasting and waiting, Lothar paused mid-bite. Beside him, The Other was stuffing his face with enthusiasm, only to pause and belch.

"Hela sent me a distress signal?"

"She actually asked me for help?"

Lothar almost laughed.

He couldn’t imagine that stubborn woman ever pleading for help, let alone from him.

"Go on, what’s the situation?"

Locked away as he was, Lothar still couldn’t help the amused glint in his eyes. This was, without a doubt, the most entertaining thing he’d heard since his confinement.

"Lady Hela didn’t go into details," Woz reported. "She only said she’s turned against the current King of Asgard, Odin, her biological father, and requests you extract her."

Lothar’s smirk faded. "What did you just say?"

"Woz doesn’t know more than that, Your Highness," the AI replied honestly. "Her transmission simply stated she’s engaged in conflict with Odin and asked for extraction."

"I also received a visual transmission."

A holographic projection appeared before Lothar: Hela, covered in blood and grime, frozen in mid-frame.

Even from a still image, his pupils contracted.

"Prince Lothar, Woz does not recommend accepting Lady Hela’s request," Woz continued dutifully. "Odin’s power is immeasurable. Even Lord Thanos cannot guarantee victory against him."

"If I were to confront Odin directly, what are my odds?"

Lothar asked calmly, dismissing the image with a wave.

"Please hold... Woz is currently constructing a comparative combat model..."

A moment passed.

"Prince Lothar, after meticulous analysis, Woz concludes that with your current power levels, the probability of a successful extraction of Lady Hela from Asgard is... 0.091%."

Lothar blinked. "Not even Super Saiyan 3 is enough?"

"Prince Lothar," Woz explained, "the Mind Stone, which enables you to transform into Super Saiyan 3, is no longer in The Other’s possession, it has been reclaimed by Lord Thanos."

"In other words, using a form as energy-intensive as Super Saiyan 3 against Odin, who possesses both the Destroyer Armor and the Space Stone, is impossible."

"...I see."

There was a long silence.

Then—"Prepare the ship, Woz."

"?!"

The Other choked on a hunk of beast meat. "Cough, cough... Your Highness! Wait, are you—?!"

"Do you have something to say?"

Lothar’s gaze sharpened.

The Other shook his head instantly. "No! I fully support every decision made by Prince Lothar!"

Everything His Highness said was right.

Everything he did was correct.

Everything he wanted, I would never oppose.

The Other, well-versed in the "Obey Lothar Doctrine," didn’t hesitate.

"Prince Lothar, Woz is unable to activate any ships. Lord Thanos has revoked my system privileges."

"...What?"

Lothar’s brow furrowed, unease stirring in his gut.

His father had cut Woz’s access?

"Prince Lothar, Ebony Maw is requesting a communication link."

Before Woz even finished, Ebony Maw’s hologram flickered to life.

"Lothar. Our systems detected Woz requesting access to a ship. Care to explain?"

"What I intend to do is none of your concern, Maw."

Lothar’s tone was cold. Something was clicking into place.

"Remain in the Penal Zone. Do not attempt to leave."

"And what if I say no?"

Zzzzzzt...

Ebony Maw said nothing, he simply waved a hand.

A shimmering field of energy instantly enveloped the entire Penal Zone.

"Corvus Glaive. Proxima Midnight. Cull Obsidian."

"Prince Lothar, we are surrounded by the Black Order," Woz reported immediately.

"You knew Hela would send me a distress call?"

Lothar’s face was expressionless as he stared down Ebony Maw.

"This was Lord Thanos’s decision."

"Besides," Maw added, "from what I understand, your relationship with Hela wasn’t exactly... cordial, was it?"

"...True."

"Our relationship wasn’t what you’d call warm."

But as the thought crossed his mind, golden sparks began to flicker at the tips of Lothar’s hair.

"Lothar!" barked Corvus Glaive, voice hoarse.

"But—" Lothar’s emerald eyes glinted with arrogance and frost, "—she still owes me a reflection essay."

The room fell dead silent.

...What?

Wait, hold on... did she write all your essays or something?

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