When Malekith saw the Aether effortlessly devour that qilin, a smug smile crept onto his lips.
But the next instant, his expression froze, because Aaron was nowhere to be seen in front of the Aether.
Then a flash of silver suddenly streaked past his eyes, followed by a fierce gust of wind from an incoming punch.
Aaron leaped up to Malekith's upper side and struck him squarely in the face with a full-force punch. On his hand was a silver-white Knuckle Duster made of Azban Iron.
Caught completely off guard, Malekith's face was knocked sideways. His body spiraled uncontrollably toward the ground, teeth and black blood spraying through the air.
Aaron gave him no chance to react. Malekith, having absorbed the Aether, could certainly be called tough-skinned and durable. He had no intention of fighting a drawn-out battle like Thrór.
Almost the instant Malekith hit the ground, Aaron rushed in. His right fist, clad in the Knuckle Duster, blurred into afterimages as it continuously hammered Malekith's head.
The ground trembled as Malekith's body slowly sank into the soil.
The intense pain gradually blurred his consciousness. The Aether's erosion of the Nine Realms stopped as well, and the darkness began to fade.
Far away in Asgard, Loki could not help drawing a sharp breath.
He had been watching Thrór and Malekith's fierce battle with great interest, and he had already eaten half the fruit platter.
The other half had been saved for the second half, but once Aaron officially entered the fight, things seemed to change. Forget the lack of sportsmanship—his way of beating people directly awakened Loki's psychological trauma.
"That's too brutal. Truly too brutal," Loki said with an unnatural expression. "It reminds me of Thrór's monster friend."
"Malekith is still too useless. Even after absorbing the Aether, he cannot