Be an Asgardian Expat, Experience Nordic Life

Malekith hadn't been wrong—his family really did raise dogs.

It was just that these dogs were Wild Hunt Hounds.

These monsters stood nearly a meter tall and were less than three meters long. Although Peter was certain he was extremely close to them, he still couldn't make out the face of a single Wild Hunt Hound. He could only barely see their general outlines; he couldn't even be sure they were actually dogs.

Their muzzles were shorter than wolves', and they did resemble certain breeds of dog, like Tibetan Mastiffs. But when those huge mouths opened within their blurred forms, their fangs were terrifyingly large, seeming far too big to fit inside those jaws.

It was as though a layer of wind clung tightly to their bodies, obscuring all attempts to observe them. Peter tried to punch an approaching Wild Hunt Hound, but for some reason, despite both his foresight and his own judgment telling him that his fist had landed, something unexpected happened.

Peter didn't hurt the Wild Hunt Hound at all.

Or rather, he should have hit it, but he hadn't felt the impact. These creatures seemed to turn intangible and become impossible to strike. Then they swiftly pounced back, the Hounds always appearing from unexpected angles before vanishing from where they stood.

"They seem able to switch back and forth between storms and solid forms."

Realizing he couldn't hit these Hounds accurately, Peter stopped thinking and entrusted everything to his body and Spider-Sense. He followed the images predicted by his Spider-Sense, dodging again and again, before spinning around and finally sending one Hound flying with a savage kick as it solidified.

But even more Hounds charged in from trickier angles. The greatest advantage of Wild Hunt Hounds in storm form was their numbers. They attacked Peter without