Marvel's Iron Lady

At the end of the Bifrost stood Heimdall, ever vigilant, when he suddenly sensed an indescribable feeling of oppression. Slowly, he withdrew his great sword from the keyhole and stepped toward the edge of the bridge, his brow furrowed as he gazed up at the sky. The golden sword, Hofund, brimming with intricate energy patterns, lay in his hands, now radiating a brilliant golden light.

With a swift motion, Heimdall swung his sword toward the sky, unleashing a golden slash several thousand meters long that sliced through the clouds instantly. The golden energy formed by divine power emitted a jarring, ear-piercing sound in what seemed to be an empty sky.

Moments later, a sleek, pitch-black ship, shaped like a blade, revealed itself, its long, slender form emerging from the air. A long crack appeared along the side of the ship's hull, with golden energy still crackling at the edges.

"Enemies of the realm, daring to invade Asgard—die!" Heimdall roared furiously, his face contorted as he swung his sword again. In an instant, the golden energy surged forward like a tidal wave, crashing toward the black blade-like ship. However, this time, it was blocked by a blood-red energy shield, preventing the attack from penetrating further.

Though they had slumbered for billions of years, the Dark Elves remained a powerful race, one that had long mastered the technology of interdimensional space travel. No one knew for sure if the Dark Elves had a way to locate the Aether, but they had come nonetheless. Without any riots or chaos, in the midst of Asgard's peace, the Dark Elves had stormed their way in.

Heimdall stood frozen, his gaze fixed on the massive black cross-shaped warship now looming over the other side of the Bifrost. The warship's menacing appearance was accentuated by the eerie red glow emanating from its core turbine. Behind this massive black cross-shaped ship floated dozens of smaller black blade-like vessels.

Heimdall had no idea how they had managed to bypass the barrier and enter Asgard's unique spatial plane. Inside the golden palace of Asgard, all eyes were drawn to the dark, elongated warship now visible in the sky.

"So, that's the Dark Elves' mothership, huh… How interesting," Miss Stark mused as she gazed at the cross-shaped warship, her lips curling into a sly smile.

The Dark Elves' homeland had been ravaged by space pirates during their long slumber, and their numbers dwindled with each passing conflict. For a race that had been asleep for billions of years, they now found themselves living on borrowed time. Clearly, the Dark Elves were back for revenge, or something like it.

Asgard's defense system activated, and a bright yellow energy shield covered the entire palace. High on the city's walls, rapid-firing energy cannons engaged in a fierce shootout with the Dark Elves' fleet. However, in Miss Stark's eyes, the quality of those energy cannons was embarrassingly low, more show than substance. They couldn't even take down the escort ships of the Dark Elf mothership—they were essentially useless.

On the other side, the Dark Elves weren't faring much better. Malekith had led his fleet to the Aether's location but hadn't anticipated that it would be in Asgard. The Dark Elves had only ever been attacked by the Nine Realms at their doorstep; they had never ventured to Asgard before. Even though they had managed to slip through the rift between Asgard and the rest of the realms, they found themselves in a rather awkward situation.

After billions of years in stasis, the mothership had no means of replenishing its energy, and only a few blade ships remained combat-ready. If there had been more ships in the fleet, Asgard might have already fallen. Perhaps irritated by the rapid-fire energy cannons, the massive black cross-shaped mothership finally made a move.

A scarlet glow began to gather along the horizontal arms of the cross—a sign that the ship's main cannon was charging. The mothership, over a thousand meters long, was equipped with a main cannon whose diameter exceeded fifty meters. If it hit its target, the damage would be catastrophic—but it would only have one shot.

Even after billions of years of dormancy, the mothership, no matter how powerful, had no way to replenish its basic energy reserves. It could muster enough power for a single shot, but would it have enough left for a second?

After several seconds, the highly condensed blood-red energy coalesced at the giant cannon mounted on the lower section of the cross-shaped ship. With a brilliant flash of crimson light, it fired, slamming into Asgard's palace energy shield with tremendous force.

The highly concentrated energy carried an immense heat, capable of turning the ground into molten lava. After penetrating the surface, it would eventually erupt, vaporizing everything in the vicinity. However, the golden energy shield protecting the palace, Asgard's final line of defense, held strong, though it dimmed noticeably as its energy was rapidly depleted.

Seeing the shield weaken, Malekith remained silent, his mouth twitching in frustration. "Alright... If that's the case, we'll break it ourselves."

At his command, the Dark Elf mothership adjusted its trajectory and, after a brief charge, dove downward. Its sharp and durable hull tore through the weakened energy shield like a hot knife through butter. With a deafening crash, the colossal cross-shaped warship smashed through half of the palace, causing the entire structure to tremble violently.

Inside the grand golden hall of the palace, the lower deck of the Dark Elf mothership began to open before the eyes of all present. Standing at the forefront was Malekith, the King of the Dark Elves, with countless Dark Elf soldiers behind him.

These Dark Elves, with their white masks and pointed ears, were nothing like the beautiful elves of fairy tales. Armed with a variety of weapons, they surged forward in waves, their collective battle spirit forming an oppressive force that loomed over their opponents.

Despite the overwhelming presence of the Dark Elf army, Miss Stark remained unfazed, watching them with great interest. Meanwhile, the Odinson family of Asgard stood in silent contemplation of the enemies now before them.

For the first time in a millennium, it seemed, such creatures had dared to breach the defenses of Asgard itself.

Thor looked at the Dark Elves, his expression one of bewilderment, as if he still hadn't fully grasped the situation. Standing next to him, Loki smirked disdainfully, taking a few steps back as if unwilling to get involved.

At the front of the group stood Malekith, his amber eyes gleaming with malice, his face etched with murderous intent. He looked down on those before him with disdain, as if regarding them as mere ants beneath his feet.

Odin, on the other hand, remained expressionless, his thoughts unreadable, even as his enemies stormed the palace.

"I can feel the power within you. You carry the strength of Bor. Are you his descendant?" Malekith asked, his brow furrowing as he sensed the familiar power emanating from Odin.

Bor had led the Nine Realms in their campaign to slaughter the Dark Elves, and Malekith was all too familiar with his old adversary's power.

Despite his age, Odin showed no sign of weakness before his enemy, slamming his staff into the ground with authority. "I am Bor's son, the King of the Gods of Asgard, the protector of the Nine Realms."

"Dark Elf, state your name," Odin commanded.

"The protector of the Nine Realms? You think Asgard alone can claim such a title?" Malekith sneered at Thor's words, his voice laced with derision.

During the chaotic dark age when the Nine Realms were at war with one another, Asgard had not yet risen to the power it held today. It wasn't until Bor's death and Odin's ascension, through his overwhelming strength, that Asgard truly became dominant.

Bor had been the architect of Asgard's greatness, but for Malekith, who had been asleep for years, the difference between the Asgard of today and the Asgard of old was incomprehensible. Malekith felt no threat from the aging Odin and dismissed him entirely.

"State your name, Dark Elf. My Eternal Spear does not strike down the nameless," Odin bellowed, his voice booming as his beard and hair bristled with anger. He clutched his golden staff tightly, his face a mask of fury.

The sight of Odin in this state gave Miss Stark a strange sense of déjà vu, reminding her of Gandalf facing the Balrog in The Lord of the Rings.

As for Gungnir, the Eternal Spear—known as the infallible spear forged from the branches of Yggdrasil—its legend was vast. In his youth, Odin had wielded the spear to conquer the Nine Realms, and countless mighty foes had fallen to it.

As his body aged, forcing him to enter periodic slumber, Odin had not wielded the spear in some time. But today, in the face of those who dared to defy Asgard's authority, the spear would once again taste the blood of its enemies.

Seeing Odin's stance, Malekith could sense the surging divine power within him. Though the god looked old, his strength was far from negligible. Recognizing this, Malekith abandoned his earlier arrogance.

"I am Malekith, King of the Dark Elves, and I will destroy you all, destroy Asgard itself," he declared.