Hela, the goddess of death, had been locked away in Hel for thousands of years. In that endless prison of shadows, time itself had blurred, and Midgard became little more than a fading memory. She had not set foot on this realm since an age when men fought with crude steel and torches lit their nights.

The world had been young then, its people sparse, their numbers laughable compared to what she now sensed all around her.

But now…

Her emerald eyes narrowed as she studied the bizarre trio who had just stepped through the ripple in space. A crimson giant of metal towering above her, a sharp-eyed mortal who carried himself far too casually, and… a fat dog?

Her lips curved ever so slightly. "So, Midgard has changed this much. Machines walk like men, and mortals grow bold enough to stare at me as if we are equals."

Her tone carried no awe, only cool detachment, as though she were examining curiosities. In truth, the goddess cared little for such progress. These toys of iron and circuitry meant nothing before her might.

Even Odin at his peak had barely managed to chain her. And he was dead now. With his passing, Hela felt her confidence swelling, unrestrained, like a tide freed from its dam. She no longer sensed the weight of his will pressing against her. She was finally free, free and unchallenged.

As Luke stepped from the portal, he met her gaze without hesitation. And yes, just as he suspected, Hela was even more stunning in person than in the movies he remembered. Her sharp cheekbones, the regal posture, the air of disdain that clung to her every gesture… She radiated power and beauty, dangerous and alluring all at once.

The familiar chime of his system whispered in his head:

[Ding! Congratulations to the host for meeting Hela, a core antagonist of the Marvel world for the first time. 2 Plot Points obtained.]

Luke's lips curved. That brought his total to forty-eight. Only two more until his system leveled up. His mood lifted instantly, and with that, his grin widened.

He gave a little wave, deliberately casual. "Hello, Goddess of Death, Hela."

He spoke her name with deliberate warmth, eyes gleaming with both respect and a flicker of amusement.

The appreciation on his face was unmistakable. It wasn't just for her strength, though he admired that plenty. Nor was it only for her ruthless nature, which he found more refreshing than Thanos's hypocritical speeches. No, he admired her presence, her figure, and the sheer force of will that clung to her.

Then Luke, on impulse, slipped a pair of glasses from his pocket and placed them on his face. He hadn't used them in ages. But now? Why not? He tilted his head, studying her openly through the lenses.

'Mhm. Just as I thought. That figure really is as good as I imagined, even better.'

Hela blinked. His boldness took her aback for a heartbeat. A mortal, daring to greet her like an equal, even admire her openly? Her eyes narrowed. She hadn't been in Midgard for millennia. No mortal should know her name. And yet this one… spoke it so easily.

Her voice was low and sharp. "Who are you? You are no ordinary son of Midgard."

Luke spread his hands in mock innocence. "I'm as Midgardian as they come. But I have met your father… and your two younger brothers."

That stirred something in her. She leaned forward slightly, eyes glinting with curiosity. "Oh? So I have two brothers now?"

Of course, cut off in Hel, she knew nothing of Thor or Loki.

Luke's grin widened. "That's right. Thor and Loki. Fine brothers, both in their own way. Are you planning on killing them?" His tone was light, conversational, as if discussing the weather.

Her brows rose. This mortal was intriguing. He not only knew her name, but her family, and even her nature. He was too informed to be dismissed so easily.

Then, without warning, her voice snapped like a whip. "Kneel."

The command cut through the air like a blade and Luke blinked, caught for half a second by surprise at the sudden shift.

Hela's eyes glittered coldly. "Kneel, mortal. You will be my first servant upon my return. A man who knows as much as you do may yet be useful."

Her voice carried the weight of one accustomed to absolute obedience.

But Luke only chuckled softly. He straightened, his grin sharpening into something dangerous. "I'm afraid we're of the same mind, Hela. Why don't you kneel before me instead? Recognize me as your master, and perhaps I'll forgive your little outburst."

His tone was calm and light, but the arrogance was unmistakable.

For the first time since stepping onto Midgard, Hela's composure cracked. Rage flickered across her face. Her fingers slid back through her black hair, sweeping it from her brow. At her touch, her shadow-black locks lengthened and hardened, shaping into her fearsome horned helm, jagged like a spider's limbs.

With a thought, blades shimmered into existence in her hands, twin swords, their edges glinting like liquid metal, dark and deadly.

But before she could advance, another chime echoed in Luke's mind:

[Ding! Hela, the goddess of death, has shown disrespect to the host. Her magic swords have mutated. For the next thirty minutes, they will be made of plastic.]

Luke smirked. His gaze flicked to her weapons, and sure enough, the steel sheen dulled. The blades grew translucent, cheap, almost toy-like, until they were nothing more than long plastic swords.

Hela's eyes widened for the briefest second as she felt the change in weight. Her grip tightened, knuckles pale. 'What sorcery is this?'

She raised one of the flimsy blades, her voice sharp with disbelief. "What trickery is this?"

Luke's calm reply only twisted the knife. "Nothing you need to worry about. Surrender to me, and your weapons will return to normal."

The audacity of it sent fire through her veins. No one, not Odin, not any warrior across the Nine Realms, had dared mock her so brazenly.

Snarling, Hela flung both swords with deadly force. Even dulled, even made out of plastic, her throws carried immense power.

But then the system spoke again in Luke's mind:

[Ding! Host is under attack. Space before Hela has mutated, connected to the space behind her.]

A ripple of distortion shimmered between them. The two plastic blades vanished into it, and then, an instant later, reappeared behind her.

Thump! Thump!

Both struck true, stabbing squarely into Hela's backside.

Her body stiffened, eyes going wide. The impact didn't harm her, her Asgardian body shrugged off blows that would pulverize mortals, but the sting was sharp enough to be felt.

More than that, it was humiliating.

In front of a mortal, she had just been stabbed in the rear by her own weapons.

Luke's smirk widened, and Doggo let out a strangled bark that suspiciously sounded like laughter.

Hela froze for a moment, her face pale with disbelief, then flushed with seething fury. To be shamed like this, mocked by a mere mortal!

Her teeth clenched as rage poured from her like a storm.

The goddess of death was beyond furious.

…

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