Marvel: What If Thanos Adopted A Saiyan?-Chapter 171 - 172: Savior from the Rising East

"Prince Lothar, there’s a massive life energy signature up ahead."

Midgard, one of the Nine Realms.

After trailing the gray-cloaked old man for forty-three minutes, Lothar and his group finally arrived at the so-called "tribe" the elder had spoken of.

A large human settlement lay before them.

At the gates, the young guards on duty bowed respectfully to the elder. Thanks to his coaxing, they dutifully welcomed Lothar, Hela, and The Other into the heart of the tribe.

The wide main road was lined with stalls, bustling with people bartering goods, infusing the village with a lively, vibrant atmosphere.

"Mom! I want that one!!"

"Hey! You little rascal, don’t run off!!"

". . ."

The chaotic din made Lothar frown. Only after they entered the elder’s dwelling, an earthen kiln-home carved from stone, did his expression finally ease a bit.

"Are you the leader of this tribe?" Hela asked, her voice cold and direct.

Though she hadn’t spent much time on Midgard, Hela had gathered enough from how others treated the old man to discern his status.

"Yes," the elder replied.

Back in his stone hut, the trembling old man retrieved a stash of dried snacks, saved for his grandson, from under the stone bed and laid them humbly on the table. He bowed low, doing everything in his power to avoid sharing the fate of his unfortunate friend, who’d earlier been struck down by Lothar.

"I’ll head out now to have the new altar prepared. Please, wait here a moment."

Having promised Lothar that he would summon the Outer God without sacrificing a Flerken, the elder hobbled out of the kiln-dwelling, gradually vanishing from sight.

"You really believe him?" Hela asked, turning to Lothar once the elder had disappeared around a corner. Something about this place had felt off since they arrived.

Huh?

Is he... eating already?

Still trying to pinpoint what was wrong, Hela stared at Lothar, who was now casually popping dried fruit into his mouth by the handful. Her eye twitched.

What is he, possessed by a starving ghost?!

"No. Not a single word." Lothar didn’t even look up as he yanked the snack plate toward himself.

Seeing Lothar eat so heartily, the orange tabby perched on his shoulder sniffed the air and reached out with its two dainty paws to beg for food. Lothar ignored it.

"Meow~"

The tabby opened its tiny mouth, tapped Lothar’s shoulder with its right paw, then pointed at the dried fruit with the left, then at its mouth.

"I just want to see what this old man’s hiding. If he dared bring me here, he must think he’s got some kind of backup." Lothar’s eyes narrowed, his tone cold. He welcomed trouble, anything to release the pent-up frustration from being locked in solitary confinement for thirty days.

And maybe get a little stretch in while he was at it.

"Meow!"

Frustrated by being ignored, the tabby leapt off Lothar’s shoulder, aiming straight for the plate.

But as soon as it did, a red tail lashed out, coiled around its body, and hoisted it right back onto Lothar’s shoulder.

"?!?!!?!"

Unable to resist, the cat drooped its head in defeat, staring longingly at the fruit Lothar was now finishing off.

"Besides, what I’m more curious about is that so-called Sorcerer Supreme. What’s his deal?"

Lothar narrowed his eyes as he chewed, the image of a refined man who had introduced himself as Cuba surfacing in his mind.

"I don’t know. I passed the intel to Heimdall, but he hasn’t responded yet," Hela said. When it came to matters affecting the Nine Realms, she reported it immediately.

But nearly fifty minutes had passed with still no word from Heimdall.

CRACK!

Just as Hela finished speaking, a deep fissure split the ground beneath the kiln-dwelling.

"They’re here."

Lothar, having just swallowed the last of the fruit, casually flicked a glowing energy orb at the ceiling, blowing the entire upper half of the stone hut into rubble.

BOOM!!!

Shards of stone blasted outward, tearing through the formation of tribal warriors like shrapnel, turning flesh to pulp and claiming lives in an instant.

"Everyone, prepare for battle!"

"Yes, sir!"

The able-bodied warriors, already on high alert, quickly filled the positions of the fallen. Hands formed seals as they chanted cryptic incantations under their breath.

Dozens of magic circles materialized beneath Lothar, Hela, and The Other.

"Prince Lothar, I’m detecting a high concentration of magical creatures converging on this location," Woz reported, his lens-form interface overlaying data across Lothar’s right eye.

"Magical creatures? Like those four he summoned before?"

Lothar narrowed his eyes, recalling the four bizarre beings the old man had summoned earlier.

KRAKOOOM!!!

Before the thought even finished, grotesque forms began to rise from every magic circle across the tribe.

"Attack!" freёweɓnovel_com

The elder, his beard stained with the blood of his comrades, coughed and raised a hand, barking the command.

SWISH!

SWISH SWISH SWISH!!!

Before Lothar could even move, Hela raised her hand. A storm of spectral weapons hovered behind her and shot forward, impaling every single figure in the area.

"Hmm?"

"What’s going on?"

Before her eyes, the impaled enemies dissolved into crimson sand and, within seconds, reconstituted into new bodies.

"Tch, that annoying regeneration magic again?" Hela scoffed, instantly reminded of unpleasant memories in Svartalfheim, specifically, being trapped in the Artificial Hel by Malekith.

"It’s useless!"

"This power was granted by the God! You could never understand!"

The elder, having once again returned to form from sand, raised his arms. A monster with massive wings burst forth from a magic circle, snow-white feathers cascading from the sky.

It soared with a shriek.

"Step aside." Lothar shoved past Hela, ki condensing in his hand.

"Outer God, begone..."

"Outer God, begone..."

"Outer God, begone..."

Just as Lothar prepared to wipe out the entire area, a commanding voice, booming with vitality, rippled through the tribe like thunder. The rising sun in the east bathed the village in golden light.

From the sunlight surged streams of emerald-green magical energy. As the chant echoed, the tribal fighters collapsed one by one, black mist rising from their bodies.

"We made it in time!"

"Thank goodness!"

"Hey! Are you guys alright?!"

From the eastern side of the village, a man in a silver-gold-trimmed sorcerer’s robe approached. Hanging from his chest was an ornate nameplate, one that bore both Lothar and Hela’s likeness, now glowing under the sunlight.

"Eh?"

"EH?!?!"

The man, hurriedly running forward, froze mid-step the instant he saw Lothar and Hela’s faces.

"S-S-Savior?! You’re the Savior?!"

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