Death was one of the most terrifying forces in the world, one no one could resist. Entangled in the power of death, Loki felt his vitality steadily draining away as a profound weakness crept over him.
Just then, Hela's voice came from outside. "Stop struggling. No matter how hard you try, it's pointless. If you have any last words, you'd better say them while you still have time."
The corners of Hela's lips curled upward, her expression making it clear she thought she had Loki in the bag.
After hearing her words, Loki gave her an icy look without speaking, but a flicker of resolve flashed through his eyes.
Unlike the other members of the Dark Alliance, Loki was a god, and his knowledge far surpassed theirs.
From the very beginning, he had vaguely sensed that something was wrong with the darkness force in the territory.
It seemed to contain some sort of consciousness, along with a powerful, evil force. So although Loki had stayed in the Dark Territory, he had always kept its darkness force at bay and had never let it corrupt him.
Had this not happened, there was no telling how long it would have taken Loki to absorb the darkness force. He might never have absorbed it at all.
But now, he had nowhere left to turn. Absorbing the darkness force to strengthen himself had become his only option.
Taking a deep breath, Loki sat cross-legged in the Dimension Space and quickly entered a meditative state.
As he began to meditate, the once-calm darkness force in the Dark Territory suddenly surged toward him.
In the blink of an eye, the Dimension Space where Loki sat was engulfed in black mist.
With Loki actively drawing it in, the black mist rushed into him at an astonishing rate.