(Hela's POV)
So there I was, fresh off signing a soul contract with an international terrorist in my literal hellscape house—freshly decorated to welcome her.
After all, I needed to show my majesty and all, although almost everything I showed her was pure illusion.
Something I have to say—and the reason I have hope that mutants exist—is because this universe has a bit of the comics element in it.
I'm one of the Hell-Lords, alongside Mephisto, Satannish, Pluto, Blackheart, and some others who rule various underworlds.
We sometimes war or make peace with one another. Although I can't leave due to Odin and Kamar-Taj's tight projection barrier, I can at least invite souls and humans who are willing to come.
Unfortunately, since being sealed by Odin, the original Hela never received a soul from Earth.
Apparently, that group of greedy bastards wouldn't send her share. Hmph. I would definitely conquer all the other Hell dimensions and wouldn't share with anyone.
But well, before that, I think I should first project my vision onto Hel. Why settle for ruling over a gloomy underworld when I could reshape it?
Create a kingdom that reflects my desires—my vision. A new pantheon, perhaps? The thought is tantalizing.
But first, a proper visit to Earth is in order. My initial trip had been brief, and I hadn't had the chance to truly experience the modern mortal world. And who better to accompany me than my newly acquired mortal associate, Viper?
Viper—sorry, Ophelia—was still staring at her new Super Soldier Serum vial like it was a golden ticket to Willy Wonka's Murder Factory. I snapped my fingers in front of her face. "Earth to Murder Barbie. We've got places to be."
She blinked. "What?"
"The World Cup? Netherlands vs. Brazil? The entire reason I paused my astral sightseeing tour to adopt you?" I floated around her, inspecting her Hydra-chic leather jumpsuit.
Unfortunately, it wasn't the original green suit Viper wears in most of the comics, so... "First order of business: we're upgrading your wardrobe. You look like a rejected Matrix extra."
She crossed her arms. "I'm not here to be your dress-up doll."
"Oh honey, you're here because I said so. But well, there are more pressing matters. I guess we'll do the style makeover later."
I grabbed her shoulder before she could ask any more questions and yanked us both through the astral plane. Huh. The little girl dares to defy me now? Anyway, it was definitely not to admire her shape.
I'm not some horny goddess who hasn't seen a female body in 365 days or hasn't had sex in her 5,000+ years of existence and barely manages to control herself.
Anyway, after I pulled the same move the Ancient One used on Strange, Ophelia was now in her Astral Form. I didn't waste time and directly dragged her deep into the Astral Plane to return to Earth quickly.
Poor girl—she was about to experience something her soul can't naturally support. But with my protection, there shouldn't be any big problems.
...
We popped out mid-air above the Rose Bowl Stadium. Ninety-four thousand screaming fans below, the smell of overpriced nachos and existential dread wafting up. Viper floated beside me—though she was, well, unconscious.
I sighed and snapped my fingers again, stabilizing her essence before her astral body unraveled like cheap ribbon.
"I didn't realize it before, since I had no one to interact with, but it seems Hela's memories and emotions affected me more than I thought. I really just thought, 'Mortals. One taste of the dimensional tour and they faint. Dramatic.' This is definitely not what the original Earthling me would've thought."
Viper stirred beside me, groaning as she blinked her spectral eyes open, which thankfully stopped my overthinking. "What… where… did I die?"
I chuckled at her. Really funny. This is exactly the reason I wanted to leave Hel in the first place—even though I was an introvert.
Well, more like an extrovert forced by the world to become an introvert. I didn't like meeting people because you could feel their hypocrisy from miles away.
Anyway, in our Astral Bodies, no one could see us. Unfortunately, I'm not yet able to use my powers in this form, or I'd have found a way to eat some popcorn while watching the game.
I ignored Viper, who was still confused, and began thinking seriously about my plans. First of all, I need to recruit subordinates.
And when I say subordinates, I don't mean brainwashed people or those under mind control. To be honest—whether as Hela or as myself—I find that repulsive.
That's why I requested Viper's loyalty. I don't want to do anything that could alter her mind, her way of thinking, or her soul to make her completely devoted to me. If I did, she'd feel more like a tool than a living being to me.
Then, I need to consider whether to simply become the heir of Asgard or to create my own pantheon.
That depends on one question I need to ask Odin. His answer will determine everything.
Even then, I need to recruit people because I want to expand my dimension—and conquer Asgard as well. It's my home ground. Even if I create a new pantheon, I can't sacrifice my bonus.
After all, being the rightful heir to Asgard comes with perks. Divine right, ancient artifacts, some nifty bloodline buffs... you know, the usual royal cheat codes. Besides, the thought of wiping that smug look off Thor's face? Delicious.
Ophelia finally stabilized beside me, her astral self floating a little shakily—like a drunk ghost on stilts. "You didn't answer me," she grumbled. "Am I dead?"
"No. But I am losing patience, and that's far more dangerous." I flicked her forehead with a finger laced in divine will, and she jerked upright, her form shimmering back into full coherence.
She scowled, rubbing her brow. "You're enjoying this too much."
"Obviously," I said with a smirk. "Now hush. Watch."
Brazil scored again. The crowd surged. Unfortunately, my face was gloomy—not because I was a Netherlands supporter, but because of something more serious. I wasn't enjoying the game.
I found it boring.
Something I couldn't believe. I'm watching the game while floating just above the goalposts with the best view, a crowd cheering, a good match with everything you'd need. But nonetheless—I found it boring.
It took me a moment to realize why.
It wasn't the game—it was me.
Once upon a time, when I still thought my name was [!!!], I would've screamed for a miracle header or cursed a missed penalty like the rest of the mortals below.
Now, the thrill was gone. I could see the trajectory of the ball before it curved, feel the ripple in the crowd's emotions before they erupted. I had ascended—quite literally—past the point of caring.
It was a very bad discovery. Before, when I was in Hel, this was literally what I craved. Now that it's in front of me, I find it boring.
Why?
Because no matter what—I have 5,000+ years' worth of experience. I'm no longer the mortal me who could enjoy human entertainment. I'm now a god.
How could you enjoy something when you could already predict the results? When the people involved are so far below you in life essence, intelligence, and power?
She blinked. "No. Mostly because I send other people to climb the mountain and shoot anyone waiting at the top."
I gave her a side-eye. "Of course you do. Very on-brand."
But her words stuck with me. Maybe I was thinking about this all wrong.
I didn't need a mortal thrill.
I needed purpose.
The original Hela's purpose was to leave this godforsaken place, take her revenge on Odin, reclaim Asgard, and conquer the worlds. For that, she was willing to endure everything—even the long, lonely centuries.
Although I share her memories and emotions, we aren't the same. The simple fact that I need to talk to Odin before making up my mind already proves that.
But then… what is my goal?
.....
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