The lightning went out faster than expected.
Ye Mo watched helplessly as the lightning net unleashed by Thor's hammer shattered one by one like a burnt-out filament. The lingering smell of burning hadn't even dissipated before the surroundings were swallowed up by deathly silence once more. He leaned against a broken stone pillar, blood seeping from the wound on his left arm. The muscles, weakened by the atrophy of his Steel Bone, felt as if they had been slashed with a dull knife; every breath he took aggravated his ribs. That coordinated attack had been brilliant, but it had also drained him of his last ounce of strength.
Emma Frost sat cross-legged with her eyes closed, her fingers trembling slightly, her forehead covered in cold sweat. She didn't collapse, but Ye Mo knew that she could barely lift her eyelids. Thor stood in front, Mjolnir planted on the ground, his cloak fluttering in the residual air currents, but his thunderous aura was no longer as overwhelming as before—he was tired too.
On the high platform, Malekith knelt on one knee, blood still gushing from the gash in his abdomen. His black robe was tattered, and he looked as if he had just crawled out of a fire. But he was neither dead nor unconscious. He lowered his head, his left hand supporting him on the scorched earth, his knuckles white, and his breathing heavy but regular.
No one moved.
All three of them stared at him, waiting for him to completely collapse, beg for mercy, or simply die. But this guy just wouldn't follow the script.
He slowly raised his hand and wiped the blood from his face, the movement as slow as if he were wiping his glasses. Then, he smiled.
He twitched his lips, revealing a mouthful of bloodstained teeth, his eyes so sinister they seemed to drip ink.
"Ha..." His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper grinding iron, "Three ants, really think... they can cut through the night?"
Ye Mo's heart skipped a beat. He knew those lines all too well; it was the villain's usual dying act, and he was pretty sure he was going to pull off a comeback. He wanted to remind Thor not to stand there, but his throat was too dry to speak.
Malekith slowly clasped his hands together, palms facing upwards, and the black mist condensed again. It wasn't an attack, nor a defense, but rather compressed into a tiny ball of dark energy, its surface rippling with high-frequency vibrations, like a signal tower emitting pulses.
"Damn it," Ye Mo cursed under his breath.
The black light shot out suddenly, heading straight for the damaged dome of the spaceship, piercing through it instantly, and disappearing into the depths of space.
A few seconds later, the sky in the distance shimmered slightly.
A black dot appears.
Then there are two more.
Three.
A dozen or so.
Countless dark shadows approached from deep space, silent and stealthy, like a swarm of bats returning to their nest. Their spaceships were bizarrely shaped, with wings spread like bat wings, completely black, without any light source, and gliding almost without a sound. One after another, they emerged from the cracks and silently surrounded the wreckage area.
Ye Mo looked up at the sky, his heart suddenly stretched to its limit.
"I mean... wouldn't you say that we just won a round, and then the bookmaker immediately called in thugs to beat us up?" His voice was hoarse, and he was trying to joke, but even he could hear the weakness in his tone.
No one responded.
Thor gripped the hammer handle tightly, and lightning crackled across his body again, but this time the current was much weaker, like a light bulb about to run out of power. He remained in the same position, still blocking Ye Mo and Emma Frost, but his steps were noticeably heavier.
Emma Frost opened her eyes, her pupils contracting sharply. She sensed it—not just the number, but also the aura of the Dark Elves. They were no ordinary warriors; each one's mental fluctuations carried a suppressed killing intent, like well-trained hunting dogs, waiting only for a command to pounce and tear their prey apart.
"One hundred and twenty-seven." Her voice was so soft it was almost inaudible. "Thirty on the outer perimeter occupy commanding heights, seventy on the ground advance in a semi-circle, and the remaining twenty-seven are on standby in the air, not yet engaged, but forming ranks."
Ye Mo grinned. "Pretty professional, even the encirclement is done with tactical formations."
He wanted to move, but his right leg was completely useless, and his left arm was barely functional. If he stood up now, he would probably have to kneel down after taking only a few steps. He could only lean against the stone pillar and adjust his posture little by little, so that he could at least look like he could still fight.
On the high platform, Malekith finally managed to stand up. His left shoulder was sunken, and the wound in his abdomen was so deep that bone was visible. He walked with a limp, but his imposing manner had returned. He stood on the high ground, looking down at the three of them, a cold smile on his lips.
"You interrupted my fusion." His voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly throughout the entire area. "Then let me... use your blood to restart the ritual."
As soon as he finished speaking, the hatches of the surrounding spaceships opened one after another.
The black-armored warriors leaped down, landing silently and quickly dispersing. They wielded dual blades, were tall and slender, with skin that gleamed with a grayish-black sheen, and eyes that were a deep purple, like fireflies in the night. They took their positions one by one, neither attacking nor speaking, but simply standing quietly, surrounding the three in the center.
Ye Mo counted them; there were at least fifty people just in the circle in front of him. Not to mention the dozens more floating in the sky, ready to swoop down at any moment.
"Now we're really doomed as dumpling filling," he muttered.
Thor finally spoke, "Enough talk, prepare for battle."
"I'd like to prepare, but look at our condition," Ye Mo said with a wry smile. "You're almost out of energy, I'm crippled by the end of my arms and leg, and Emma Frost's brain is about to explode—the three of us combined probably aren't even as strong as an average high school student."
"Then let's say you're three exceptionally resilient high school students." Thor glanced at him, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Anyway, you've always been good at winning with fewer troops, haven't you?"
"That was because the system helped before," Ye Mo said, pursing his lips. "Now it's like it's crashed; it's completely unresponsive."
After he finished speaking, he subconsciously touched the Vibranium shard in his pocket. He had made the right gamble with the ice control technique that time, but he didn't know if his body could withstand using it again this time. And even if he could freeze a few, there were still hundreds waiting to be frozen outside.
The encirclement continued to tighten.
The Dark Elves warriors moved in unison, landing silently, each step causing a slight tremor in the ground. They didn't shout slogans or give signals, yet the oppressive feeling they exuded was more real than any shout. It was as if the air had been sucked away, making it difficult to breathe.
Emma Frost hugged her knees, her fingertips digging into her palms, forcing herself to stay awake. She couldn't launch another mental attack; the previous one had already made her head throb and her temples pulsate. But she couldn't fall; as long as she remained seated, she could monitor the enemy's brainwave changes and warn Ye Mo and Thor.
"The left passage is blocked," she suddenly said. "Six will attack from above in three seconds."
"Received," Thor whispered, the tip of his hammer slightly raised.
Ye Mo gritted his teeth, trying to activate his Steel Bone, but as soon as he exerted force with his left arm, the wound tore open, and blood dripped down his fingertips. He had no choice but to give up and instead took out a piece of reflective film fragment and held it in his right hand—although it had been swept away by the thunderstorm last time, he still had a few spares on him, which might be useful as smoke bombs.
The Dark Elves in the sky began to move.
Six dark figures swooped down from above at incredible speed, their blades crossed, aiming straight for the three people's heads.
Thor moved.
He leaped into the air, Mjolnir sweeping out, a thin but precise arc of electricity striking the first enemy who charged down. The man screamed, his body convulsing as he plummeted from mid-air. The other five immediately scattered, attacking from different angles.
Ye Mo tossed out the reflective membrane; the fragment tumbled in the air, reflecting a faint light. One of the Dark Elves misjudged the distance and was caught off guard by Thor, who struck him in the face with the handle of his hammer, knocking him unconscious on the spot.
But this is just a drop in the ocean.
More enemies surged forward. The ground troops began to advance, their steps steady and their formation tight. They did not rush to attack, but instead used numbers and rhythm to apply pressure, forcing the three to retreat continuously, their space for maneuver becoming increasingly smaller.
"The gap on the right!" Emma Frost suddenly shouted.
Ye Mo turned his head and saw two Dark Elves flanking him from the side. Their movements were swift, clearly those of elite troops. He wanted to warn Thor, but before he could speak, he heard a strange noise behind him.
Malekith raised his hand from the direction of the platform.
He didn't give any more signals, but instead waved his hand gently, as if conducting a silent symphony.
In an instant, all the Dark Elves stopped moving.
The entire battlefield was eerily quiet.
Even the wind has stopped.
The warriors surrounding the three men took a half-step back in unison, reforming their ranks as if the previous attack had been merely a probe. They returned to their original positions, standing silently like statues.
Ye Mo, panting, leaned against a stone pillar, his heart pounding as if it would burst from his chest. He didn't understand what was going on; logically, they were already surrounded, so why didn't they all rush in?
"They're waiting," Emma Frost said, her voice strained, "Waiting for orders, or... waiting for more reinforcements."
Thor landed slowly, his hammer tip touching the ground, his gaze sweeping around. He knew the real battle hadn't even begun. That previous exchange was just a warm-up; now, his opponent was truly showing his fangs.
On the high platform, Malekith stood in a pool of blood, looking up at the starry sky.
The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile again.
In the distance, new black dots are approaching.
Not just one ship, but an entire fleet.
They sailed from the depths of space, enormous and entirely black, like moving tombstones. The lead ship had a huge night totem carved on its prow, exuding a suffocating sense of oppression.
Ye Mo stared at the fleet, his throat going dry.
"I mean... did we mess with the wrong people?" he whispered. "This isn't reinforcements, it's like they've moved in."