The End of Asgard

Thor was sent flying, his eyes wide as he lay sprawled on the ground as though he had died with unfinished business.

Fortunately, he was not dead—only dazed by the blow.

Staring blankly at Hela as she massacred the crowd, Thor's lips moved as if he wanted to say something. He struggled desperately, trying to get back to his feet.

Before Hela, he was not the Prince of Asgard, nor was he Thor the "God of Thunder" with his dazzling record. At most, he was a slightly more troublesome ant.

In her eyes, he was not worth sparing or even worrying about. She was eager to take his life.

The slaughter continued, and the soldiers and civilians watching from outside gradually turned ashen.

Hela's strength far surpassed their imagination. As if she never tired, she faced thousands of Asgard soldiers alone. Not only did she not fall behind, she instead began to encircle and annihilate them. Dark green lightning streaked across the battlefield, wiping them out bit by bit.

When the casualty rate exceeded seventy percent, the soldiers finally broke.

"I surrender! Don't kill me!"

A soldier threw down his weapon, dropped to his knees, and raised both hands.

"Hm?"

Hela, who had been killing with relish, turned around. She was currently gripping a soldier by the neck, his pupils gradually dilating as the Night Sky Sword pierced through his throat.

Clang! Clatter!

A series of crisp sounds rang out as another group nearby threw away their weapons and armor, then turned and fled.

They were only a small portion of all Asgard's soldiers, but seeing them surrender and flee after having their courage shattered by a single person was still utterly shocking!

On the Rainbow Bridge, Hela looked at the soldier kneeling in surrender, shoved aside the corpse in