Malekith's entire right arm hung limp. The pain of torn flesh made him tremble all over, but what drove him even crazier was that the wish his people had waited five thousand years to fulfill had vanished right before his eyes.
His hands rapidly formed a strange spell gesture, and a mass of thick black mist rose from his body. That cold, sinister force dragged him a good seven or eight meters backward.
"Where did you put it?!"
Malekith shouted at the top of his lungs, glaring so fiercely at Lucian that his eyes nearly burst.
Lucian stood where he was, with no intention of answering. He found it amusing. Was I supposed to kindly tell you that the Aether had just been packed up by the Space Tesseract and sent straight to Kamar-Taj on Earth?
The Ancient One presided over Kamar-Taj, and the place was protected by the wards of the three great Sanctums. Even if the Dark Elves' fleet bombed all of Asgard flat, they could forget about laying a finger on the Reality Stone. Once something was in his pocket, they could forget about him giving it back.
The only answer Malekith received was a fist the size of a sandbag.
Lucian closed in at top speed.
His fist crushed through the air, the wind of its approach making Malekith's scalp tighten. Terrified out of his wits, the old elf ignored the pain of his broken arm and swept his left hand across his chest, drawing on all the black mist around him to force open an energy shield shimmering with dark runes.
Bang!
Lucian's fist slammed squarely into the center of the black shield.
The dull impact shook the floor. The seemingly solid dark shield did not last even half a second before web-like cracks burst