The Dark Elves' homeworld mothership, the Shadow King.
A tall figure with his hands clasped behind his back stood alone upon the dimly lit, empty bridge.
With the cold detachment of one looking down upon all living things, he watched the countless squadrons of shipborne fighters outside the viewport as they engaged the massive fleet in fierce battle after fierce battle.
Every brilliant burst of fire blooming in the depths of the icy void represented an ancient compatriot or friend forever lost by the already dwindling Dark Elves.
Yet Malekith, the sole leader and last king of the Dark Elves, did not seem particularly concerned.
He merely let out an occasional long sigh or muttered a few indistinct, low whispers.
Thud, thud, thud—
At that moment, a Dark Elf with snow-pale exposed skin hurried into the empty bridge, completely shattering the darkness and silence that had endured for so long.
"Malekith, what exactly are you trying to do?!"
"We clearly agreed that we would only use the carefully cultivated terror plague to try to destroy Asgard, not personally risk ourselves in this meaningless war!"
"Have you already forgotten how difficult our situation is now? Do you know that every whim of yours costs hundreds or thousands of our brethren their precious lives?!"
"Besides, the blood debts we have accumulated in the depths of the universe have already drawn the Mad Titan's attention. It may be tracking our trail right now..."
"Shut up, Algrim! I don't want to hear that bastard's name!"
Unfortunately, Dark Elf Algrim had not even finished speaking.
Malekith's sudden outburst completely cut off the rest of his words.
The next second, Malekith, whose entire body faintly exuded wisps of green mist, slowly turned his tall frame around.
Yet what emerged in the dim light was a bizarre