The Witcher: The Journey to Transcendence from Marvel...

Chapter 441 Slaying Through (Happy New Year)

Hela moved like a ghost among the soldiers, easily piercing through the entire ranks.

The outcome of the battle was never in doubt from the start; it was a one-sided massacre.

The sword in her hand seemed to be imbued with endless magic; with a casual swing, a flash of cold light could take the lives of several soldiers.

Those originally sturdy armors and thick shields became as fragile as paper under Hela's attacks, offering no protection whatsoever.

In just a few seconds, the battlefield was littered with corpses.

Blood gushed forth, gathering into dark red streams that meandered across the land of Asgard.

In that instant, hundreds of Asgardian soldiers lost their precious lives.

Hela stood amidst a mountain of corpses, not a drop of blood on her body. Her hair flew wildly in disarray, and the sword in her hand continued to drip blood, each drop falling to the ground with a dull thud.

Her eyes were cold and crazed, like a demon crawling out of the abyss of hell, exuding a chilling aura.

The soldiers around them were stunned by the scene, their legs trembling uncontrollably, and their weapons slipping from their hands in fear.

No one dared to take another step closer. Hela's power had exceeded their comprehension. At this moment, the shadow of death loomed over everyone, and fear overwhelmed them like a tidal wave.

"I smell fear on you."

Hela walked slowly toward the soldiers with elegant yet overwhelmingly imposing steps.

Every step she took seemed to tread on everyone's hearts, causing them to tremble violently.

The soldiers were forced to retreat again and again by this powerful sense of oppression, their eyes filled with fear and helplessness.

They gripped their weapons tightly, yet seemed to have lost the courage to fight.

"That's all you've got. You can't even warm me up."

Hela laughed contemptuously, a smile as sharp as a blade that slashed through the soldiers' last shred of dignity.

Finally, one soldier could no longer bear the insult. With a roar, he charged toward Hela, trying to prove the bravery of Asgardian warriors with his actions.

However, in the next second, a flash of cold light appeared, and the soldier's head flew high into the air, hot blood gushing out from his neck like a fountain.

His body remained in a charging posture, but he was already lifeless and fell heavily to the ground.

Just at this critical moment, a whooshing sound suddenly came from the sky.

Heimdall, wielding a giant sword in both hands, descended from the sky like a meteor, unleashing an unstoppable momentum as he slashed fiercely at Hela.

This sword strike contained all of Heimdall's power, and a hissing sound could be heard in the air as it was torn apart by this power.

Hela remained calm, extending one hand upwards to steadily catch the thunderous blow.

With a loud "boom," the ground sank a bit, and spiderweb-like cracks appeared around Hela.

"Not bad strength."

Hela's lips curled up slightly, and she even had the leisure to offer a compliment.

Just then, she caught a glimpse of a cold glint out of the corner of her eye.

Almost instinctively, she tilted her head slightly, narrowly avoiding the attack.

It was Sif; she seized the opportunity while Hela and Heimdall were locked in a stalemate and swiftly thrust out her sword.

Unfortunately, Hela managed to dodge this carefully prepared fatal blow.

"My beauty, you're too slow."

After easily dodging the attack, Hela even had the energy to tease Sif.

At this moment, Heimdall was pressing down with all his might, trying to break through Hela's defense.

But Hela's right hand was like a towering mountain, incredibly stable and unmoving.

Hela smirked and with a slight effort of her right arm, flung Heimdall away as if throwing a feather.

Heimdall tumbled rapidly in the air, his face deathly pale. Relying on his years of combat experience, he desperately adjusted his posture in mid-air, trying to dissipate the powerful impact.

With great difficulty, he landed steadily on his feet, kicking up a cloud of dust, and barely managed to stand.

When he stood up, he found that the gods were already standing beside him, their eyes firm and without fear.

They knew Hela's power, yet none of them flinched, for they were the gods of Asgard, and it was their mission to protect this land and its people.

"For Asgard!"

Tyr, the God of War, roared first, his voice resounding like a great bell, as if to convey his fighting spirit and determination to everyone.

"For the honor of the Northern God!!"

Not a single mistake, not a single poem, not a single post, not a single piece of content, not a single look!

The other gods echoed their call, their voices converging like rolling thunder, causing the surrounding air to tremble.

Armed with their own weapons, they charged toward Hela without hesitation.

At this moment, Frigga, enduring her pain, stood on high ground and loudly directed the soldiers and the remaining civilians to retreat quickly.

His voice, though somewhat hoarse, remained firm and powerful; every word seemed to inject a shot of adrenaline into the panicked crowd.

The soldiers helped their wounded comrades and guided the civilians toward safety.

Weiss also quickly opened a world portal.

"I never said you were allowed to escape."

Hela's face instantly turned grim, her eyes revealing endless killing intent.

She was serious; after all, her title was Goddess of Death, and she was skilled in using the laws of death to take other people's lives.

A strange black light emanated from her body, within which countless wronged souls seemed to wail, expressing their fear of death.

The twin swords in her hands became even darker, with wisps of death energy swirling around their blades, as if they could drag everything in the world into an endless abyss of darkness.

Hela moves freely among the gods.

In a single exchange, her twin swords flashed like black lightning, and several gods, unable to dodge in time, were instantly beheaded.

Hot blood gushed out and splashed onto the land of Asgard, turning this once glorious land crimson.

Faced with Hela's terrifying power, not a single god could last three rounds against her.

In every confrontation, the gods' all-out attacks seemed like child's play to Hela, easily neutralized by her, followed by a fierce counterattack.

"Hurry, hurry!"

Frigga was extremely anxious; she had never been so worried before.

Her eyes were fixed on the retreating troops, her gaze filled with worry and urgency.

She waved her scepter incessantly, shouting loudly to try to make her voice carry further and urge everyone to quicken their pace.

Urged on by her, the retreating people hurried along, their expressions panicked.

The last civilian left Asgard.

At that moment, Frigga's tense nerves finally relaxed a little, but she knew that the crisis was far from over.

(End of this chapter)