Banquet and Newcomers

The wind wailed, sweeping up the last traces of ash from the ground.

They were the only proof that the Dark Elf army had ever existed.

There were no mangled corpses, no twisted wreckage of warships—only these insignificant motes of dust, slowly drifting away beneath the eternal golden light.

Watching this bizarre scene, the Asgardian army exchanged bewildered looks.

The swords and battle-axes in their hands still bore their enemies' blood, their muscles taut from the fierce battle. Yet their enemies—foes whose equipment and martial prowess had been no less formidable than their own—had simply vanished.

And in a way they could neither understand nor even imagine.

It was simply too strange.

At last, a roar laced with wild delight tore through the frozen air.

"Harry—!!!"

Thor shot into the sky from a pile of warship wreckage, a radiant smile unlike any he had ever worn spread across his face.

He raised Mjolnir high and waved it vigorously at the silent black giant, grinning like a child showing off his favorite toy.

"Did you see that?! That's my friend! Harry Osborn from Midgard!"

He shouted at the soldiers behind him, who were still stunned and confused, "Cheer for our victory! Cheer for our hero!"

His voice was like thunder, instantly rousing everyone.

"An ally?"

"That's the prince's friend?"

After a brief moment of stunned silence, the pent-up emotions erupted like a flood bursting through a dam.

The soldiers realized that the terrifying power capable of rewriting reality was not a new enemy, but reinforcements.

The ecstasy of war's end and their awe at such overwhelming power intertwined, turning into cheers that soared into the heavens.

"For Asgard!"

"For Mr. Osborn!"

Countless warriors raised their weapons high. They no longer pointed them at the enemy, but toward the sky, toward that