After sensing Hela's location, Daisy took a single step and arrived in Hela's camp.
Naturally, Hela was not like an NPC who sat around doing nothing, waiting for someone to trigger her quest. She was busy practicing her swordsmanship—or rather, venting the gloom in her heart.
The problem of Asgard had stumped her as well. Advance? She could not defeat Daisy. Retreat? She was unwilling to accept that, and worried about losing face.
She had originally believed Asgard's blessing would allow her to defeat her enemy, but today's battle had left her deeply frustrated. She had died twice in succession, yet improved only marginally. It was as though a ceiling stood in her way; relying on this external blessing, she simply could not break through her shackles.
With her heart full of frustration, she could only vent elsewhere.
She was wildly tormenting a Hill Giant as though cruelly killing a small animal. The pitch-black Sword of the Night Sky was covered in blood, while chunks of flesh and gore littered the ground. The Hill Giant had not failed to struggle, but his counterattacks were simply far too feeble before Hela.
Fenrir's Son, covered in silver-gray fur, lay at the other end of the camp. The ten-meter-long giant wolf stared intently at the bloody flesh, ready to pounce and tear the Hill Giant apart once its master grew tired of playing. This had been its main entertainment for the past two days.
Daisy silently glanced at the imposing Fenrir's Son. Comparing Hela's pet to the stupid lion at home, she sighed. There was simply no comparison.
This was only Fenrir's Son, not Fenrir, who had been sealed by Asgard. Judging purely by combat power, this little wolf cub would be a major boss if tossed onto Earth.
Seeing the scraps of