Chapter 36 MCE

Luke stood still, he extends both arms forward at a slight upward angle with closed fists. and calmly began to speak—.

"With this system, I summon..."

"Hela of the Marvel world—the ruler of the underworld, eldest daughter of Odin, and the Goddess of Death in Helheim!"

"And the undead army that serves under her command!"

Now that was power.

Boom—!

Luke had barely finished speaking when a bolt of green lightning cracked across the sky above Hell's Edge.

Then, a massive rift tore open the dark skies, bathing the barren land below in a strange, eerie green light.

"Hela?"

Belasco, standing at a distance, heard the name come from Luke's mouth.

 At first, he laughed.

"Hela? Are you serious? 'Everyone' knows Odin locked her away in Helheim! You really think you can summon her?"

"You're wasting your breath, human. Just die already!"

With a roar, Belasco lunged at Luke, his clawed hand reaching out to crush him.

But before he could strike—

A burst of dark green energy shot through the air, slamming directly into Belasco mid-flight.

BOOM—!

The hit sent him crashing backward, his massive body skidding across the scorched ground.

A figure stepped out from the shimmering light of the rift. 

Elegant, deadly, and wrapped in battle armor as dark as the void itself—Hela had arrived.

"Hela!?" Belasco growled as he staggered back up. "Is it really you? Why are you stopping me?!"

Then a thought hit him—one far more terrifying.

"You... you escaped the underworld?!"

He stared at her in disbelief.

Hela didn’t answer. 

She closed her eyes slightly, breathing in the fiery heat of the battlefield like it was perfume.

War. Blood. Death.

'It felt so good to be free again.'

Her lips curled into a slow psychotic smile.

At the same time, Luke's body flickered—then vanished into a trail of shadows.

It was a decoy.

Advanced magic—Images of Ikonn.

The real Luke had never been hit.

 His doppelgänger, a fully physical clone created by his shadow manipulation, had taken his place. 

The spell could replicate a portion of the user’s powers and even use their spells.

Even Luke, who now had a working connection with Hela, didn’t fully trust her yet. 

Even though they did the did...

But! Trust in hell was a luxury.

"Thanks," he said, casually.

Sure, Hela had only saved a clone, but she didn’t know that.

 And Images of Ikonn wasn’t some basic party trick. 

Doctor Strange had used it during the Avengers' war with Thanos, and even the Mad Titan had to rely on the Soul Stone to figure it out.

"You’re making me a little sad, darling," Hela said with a mock pout. "I deserve compensation."

She tilted her head.

"Like… letting me wipe this whole dimension off the map."

Though she claimed to be hurt, her eyes gleamed with pure bloodlust. 

After so long trapped in Helheim, her hunger for conquest was no longer hidden.

The feared Princess of Asgard had returned—and she now served at Luke’s side like a ravenous warhound.

"Do it," Luke said simply. "Limbo’s our first stop."

At his command, the rift above them widened.

And then it happened—

An endless horde of undead Asgardian warriors poured through the sky like a storm.

They were fierce even in death, each one still wielding the strength of an Asgardian god.

Like meteors, they streaked down from the heavens, landing with a ground-shaking force.

The instant they touched down, they charged into battle, ripping through every demon in sight with relentless fury.

They are different from Belasco.

Luke doesn’t need to go through the trouble of constructing a massive legion-grade dimensional portal. 

He just needs to show up. That’s it. The moment he arrives, one word is all it takes

And Hela, along with her undead legion, will descend.

It’s as if he carries an entire army in his back pocket. 

Convenient. Instant. Devastating.

"Hela! You and I have no quarrel!" Belasco shouted as he caught sight of her. "Why are you invading my Limbo?!"

The air exploded as Hela and Belasco clashed.

Both were beings just under the level of Skyfathers. 

The battlefield erupted, shifting from cracked ground to open skies, then plunging into rivers of molten magma.

 With every blow, shockwaves tore through the landscape. 

Mountains split apart, magma geysers burst like fireworks, and the terrain reshaped itself with each impact.

Hela, calm and bloodthirsty, wielded the Necrosword—an Uru-metal blade on par with Mjölnir. 

Every slash unleashed devastating waves of energy, strong enough to cleave entire ridges in half.

"Ants don’t get to argue with boots," she spat as she crashed her blade down again.

"Wow," Luke muttered, floating midair a short distance away. 

Arms folded, eyes gleaming, he watched the chaos unfold like it was a blockbuster movie. 

"Is Thor the adopted one? Loki and Hela seem way more alike—Maybe Odin got them mixed up or something?"

While the two hell-lords battled it out, their armies weren’t standing idle.

From the glowing crack in the sky, Hela’s undead stormed out like a flood.

The battlefield exploded into full-scale war as they clashed with Belasco’s demon horde. 

The ground quaked under the thunder of steel and roars. 

The undead of Asgard and the demons of Hell—neither side made up of ordinary soldiers.

Even the weakest warriors among them were as strong as Captain America or Black Panther.

"Push them back! Don’t let the undead break through!" shouted N'astirh, Luke’s old acquaintance. 

He led a tightly packed squad of elite demons, trying to hold the line against the Asgardian dead.

Limbo had never fully recovered from the last failed invasion of Earth. 

Its forces were stretched thin.

 Only a handful of elite demons remained to slow the Asgardian onslaught.

And when they met the real warriors—those who had followed Hela across the Nine Realms centuries ago—it was like paper hitting a blade. 

Complete collapse.

"Kill!"

"Crush them!"

"Wipe out the demons!"

The battlefield rang with the war cries of the undead.

 They surged forward, armored in ancient Asgardian steel, wielding weapons forged for gods. 

They didn't hesitate—they leapt into the fray and tore through demons like wind through leaves.

Some had died millennia ago. 

Veterans of realms now lost to time. Their strength hadn’t faded in death.

"We're the demon?!"

"You're the real demons, you bastards!"

Panic surged through Belasco’s forces. 

One after another, hell's soldiers broke and fled. 

Even the ferocious ones, screaming and bloodied, began to sob as they ran.

The front line shattered like glass, setting off a chain reaction. 

Rear-line troops, seeing the collapse, abandoned their posts.

Demons, for all their fire and fury, were the same deep down—cunning, ruthless, but always quick to run when they smelled defeat.

High above it all, Luke hovered with calm detachment.

His eyes swept across the battlefield below as the demon army fell apart.

"Just as I thought," he muttered. "Last time, I missed something. I didn’t examine the demonic power left behind in these things."

He noticed something odd—whenever a powerful elite demon died, their demonic energy would quickly dissipate.

 If no one absorbed it, the energy would just vanish, snapping back to this dimension like a rubber band. In and out. 

Like it never left.

Still, Luke wasn’t about to fly around sucking up stray energy like some desperate vacuum cleaner. 

That was just sad.

And unnecessary.

After all, he will become the master of this place after the defeat Belasco. 

Even if it was a cracked, broken little realm, being its lord meant he could draw energy from every creature inside it—like a sacrifice offered straight to him.

“But demonic power can only take me so far,” he muttered. “Unless... the quantity is ridiculous.”

Luke’s gaze dropped to Belasco.

The once-proud hell-lord looked battered and beaten. 

His massive body was covered in deep wounds, his enormous flesh wings full of gaping holes—each one left behind by Hela’s Necroword.

“Hela!” Belasco roared, his voice trembling with fury and desperation. “Do you really want to fight to the death?!”

He burned with rage, grief, and disbelief. 

If that cursed human hadn’t stolen his weapon, how could Hela have him completely on the ropes like this?

“If I still had my Flame Sword, you’d be the one on the ground right now!”

From a distance, Luke’s voice cut through the chaos like a knife.

“Yo! Belasco! You mean this kitchen knife?”

Luke pulled out the Flame Sword with a smug grin, flipping it casually in his hand like it was a toy. 

Then he twirled it for good measure, flashing it right at Belasco.

Low blow? Sure. But effective.

“YOU HUMAN SCUM!!!” Belasco shrieked.

Blinded by rage, he forgot Hela entirely and lunged straight at Luke.

Luke didn’t even blink.

“Dramatic much?” he said, already opening a Mirror Dimension portal.

Belasco’s charge met nothing but air as Luke slipped away. 

And that was all the opening Hela needed.

Her blade sliced through the air—clean and deadly.

She severed Belasco’s left wing in one strike.

The demon lord screamed as he tumbled from the sky. 

His blood, hot as lava, sprayed like a fountain, raining down and splashing into the magma river below. 

The severed wing crashed into the molten surface, sending up waves of fire and steam.

“My sweet darling was right,” Hela teased as she descended gracefully after him. “You really are in a rush, Belasco. And now you’re leaking everywhere~”

Landing softly beside him, she spun her sword once. 

The blade split into two identical copies—one for each hand.

Unlike Mjölnir, the Necroword wasn’t bound by weight or worthiness. 

Its greatest trick? It could clone itself endlessly. 

Perfect for dual wielding. Or hurling at enemies like spears.

Boom!

Luke landed beside her.

“How about a deal, Belasco?” he said, voice smooth but sharp. “Give me all your power, and I’ll let you live. I’ll even take Hela and her army out of Limbo.”

“You can go back to being the lord of this realm. Rest, recover. Your strength will return in time.”

He wore a genuine smile—one that made it look like he was doing Belasco a favor.

Belasco didn’t answer at first. 

He just stared, blood dripping, fury shaking through him.

Once, he had been a proud and terrifying ruler. 

Now? He was a wreck. A burned-out husk with one wing and no pride.

His broken wing had already started healing, the demonic energy trying to stitch it back together.

 But that didn’t change the facts.

He had lost.

Trapped. Cornered.

He clenched his teeth.

“Hela,” he said quietly, “is he serious? Will you really leave Limbo with your army if I give him what he wants?”

Even on the edge of ruin, Belasco couldn’t bring himself to believe a human had the right to negotiate with him.

But Hela… Hela was another matter.

She smiled and stepped behind Luke, hugging him from behind.

Luke: ''...''

“I listen to my Darling,” she said sweetly.

Her answer couldn’t have been clearer.