Chapter 1423: The Return of Old Days (22)_1

The Netherworld Helheim, among the Nine Major Kingdoms, had been extremely quiet for thousands of years. It was not entirely dark here. A moon hidden in the clouds occasionally emerged, and when its light shone on the desolate land, it accentuated the desolation.

A male figure wearing a jacket and a mask stepped out from the portal. Instantly, he smelled the dense Power of Death he had been longing for in the surrounding air.

His eyes glowed red, his long pointed ears and the drool constantly flowing from his mouth that maintained an evil smile, all indicated that he had turned into a lunatic monster. He chuckled, looking at his furry little companion on his shoulder.

"Rocket... Rocket! Soon, we will be able to bestow upon the superheroes of this world the greatest gift of immortality! The problem about you that that idiot Iron Man couldn't solve will definitely be solved!"

The Rocket Raccoon standing on his shoulder could barely be recognized as a raccoon anymore. The mechanical structure of half of his body was exposed, covered in patches of rust and uncleared blood. His head drooped weakly to one side, fixed to the other shoulder with crude and rudimentary wires.

However, Star Lord seemed oblivious as he gently touched his little buddy's head, his eyes gleaming with a darker evil smile. "I know, the experiments we wanted to conduct on you have caused you great pain. But it's okay, Rocket, soon we will be able to share the great knowledge together, and that day— is close!"

The fur around Rocket Raccoon's right eye had completely fallen off, leaving just the metallic structure of the eye socket encapsulating a dull glowing eye. The light in the eye flickered, but he said nothing.

After falling into the hands of these madness-infested monsters, he became their subject for researching weaknesses of mechanical life.

Initially, these monsters wanted to let madness infect robots, but later they discovered that the pure logical creatures made of data and information couldn't absorb this madness. Hence, robots became the enemies to be eliminated.

In this universe, after 99% of intelligent beings were infected, mechanical life naturally had nowhere to escape. Rocket Raccoon was almost the last surviving mechanical life in the Cancer universe, and the reason why he desperately lingered on was a faint hope that still existed in his heart.

Star Lord, grinning to reveal his fangs, placed the now immobile Rocket Raccoon on his back. He looked around, seemingly very satisfied with this desolate land.

The wind blew over the surface with no warmth, causing withered roots and stems to bend. The dry and loose surface of the earth moved subtly, with gravel and pebbles rolling down the slope.

With a "shrust" sound, a bony hand broke through the soil, followed by an equally terrifying white elbow and scapula. As the muddy skull emerged, Soul Fire burned fiercely in the eye sockets.

"What the hell is that?!"

Star Lord stared at the skeleton warrior that crawled out from the ground. He tightened his grip on the pistol in his hand, raised it, aimed, and pulled the trigger. A series of attack movements were executed swiftly, and the skeleton fell to the ground.

Star Lord showed a contemptuous smile, looking at the increasingly large portal and countless superheroes flying out of it. He flicked the pistol and said, "That's all you mortals can do!"

"Crack, crack, crack."

More and more strange noises came from under the ground. Star Lord turned and saw more and more pallid hands breaking through the earth.

He clenched the pistol in his hand, turning around on the spot futilely and shooting, but the scattered skeleton was restored in less than a second.

With a "clang", a shield was tossed high into the air and fell back down. This skeleton that had just emerged from the ground was stronger than the others. He picked up the shield, let out a silent roar, followed by a Swordsman Skeleton wielding a large sword, a Mage Skeleton in tattered robes, packs of Bloodthirsty Hounds, and giant Shadow Bone Wolves...

Finally, accompanied by a distant storm, an enormous Bone Dragon rose to the sky, its furious shadow breath burning the remaining plant remains.

The first thing the monster superheroes who came out of the portal saw was the figure standing on top of the Bone Dragon—the legendary Crown Princess of Asgard, after a thousand years, had once again donned her silver armor. The longsword in her hand had once roamed the cosmos, and it was thirsty for blood again.

The sword left its sheath, the horn sounded, and the endless Undead Army advanced. The eerie and mysterious sound of the friction of joints and bones, as well as the unique slow and swaying steps of the undead creatures, seemed like an eerie sacrificial dance.

"Exterminate them!" A scream came from the superhero group. Star Lord recognized it as possibly Natasha's voice, but it was particularly piercing at this moment, making him feel irritable.

The Rocket Raccoon on his back knew that after being infected with madness, these monsters had become extremely violent.

But the situation at this moment was unusual — they should have rushed to the promised land in their dreams, to satisfy their long-accumulated bloodthirsty desires, and committed a massacre against all living things in front of them —

But there were no living creatures here.

Superheroes clashed with the undead army. Amid the grey and red, where it was like a wave hitting rocks, a thin line distinctly divided the battlefield. Yet, it lacked the typical vigor of a traditional unit charge into a meat grinder.

The undead that spread all over the hills were bloodless, fleshless. They were smashed apart by physical attacks then restored. And if they were hit by energy attacks, they would only turn to ashes.

There was no warmth from hot blood spurting on their faces as the enemy's chest was torn open, no pleasure welling up from the heart at the screams heard when limbs were torn off. The overly fragile frames of the skeletons even lacked meaningful feedback when hit.

The battle was as easy as cutting through melon and vegetables, yet it seemed endless. It was like repetitive labor day in and day out, inspiring no madness, only endless tedium.

In his broken and immobile state, all Rocket Raccoon could do was be carried on Star-Lord's back, watching him futilely shoot his pistol at skeletons, again and again.

The explosion from energy bullets barely shattered a swordsman skeleton. With a flash of green light, it restored itself, running off on a skeleton horse that nearly impaled Star-Lord with its long spear.

With a "puff", the restored sword-wielding skeleton chopped off one of Star-Lord's arms. Star-Lord screamed as he recoiled, clutching his arm wound. All Rocket Raccoon could do was sigh inwardly—these creatures might not die, but they certainly could feel pain.

Star-Lord was not a superhero particularly versed in close-range fights. Even if he excelled at such, the hulking figure with a shield was too close. Rocket Raccoon watched as the edge of the sharp shield traced from Star-Lord's jawline to above his far ear, slicing off half of his head.

Brain matter splattered, blood spilled in torrents. The few remaining heat sensors on Rocket Raccoon alerted him that a piece of Star-Lord's brain had splashed onto his back.

The man in a jacket sprawled on the ground, trampled under countless skeletons. And when he resurrected, he remained in place, subjected to unending close-quarters attacks, utterly trapped.

Good job, thought Rocket Raccoon. The cosmos must have been blessed with shit luck for a portal to open right into the Netherworld. It had to be said though, the seemingly endless undead army did make for a good counter against the undying superhero monsters. Only the undying can combat the undying.

Although it was unsure how long the resurrection energy would last, until it ran out, these skeletons were far more useful than the superheroes.

For starters, the undead outnumbered the superheroes who arrived in the initial wave by hundreds. The portal was limited in size and widening it was time-consuming. Many superheroes couldn't fly and had to walk, which slowed troop transportation. But the number of skeletons seemed infinite, and nobody had any idea just how many bodies were buried under the desolate land.

Secondly, the superheroes rarely coordinated with each other, and if they did, it was usually just within their small teams. But the skeletal army operated in unit formations, backed by an exceptionally skilled commander in large-scale warfare.

Odin had nurtured a commander skilled in interstellar group combat from the countless races spread across the cosmos. As adept as Asgard was in blitzkrieg and guerilla warfare, so was Hela in defending against such tactics.

Anyone with a decent understanding of military strategy should know that in large-scale clashes on the battlefield, the mobility of your forces is decisive.

The superheroes who rushed out of the portal in disarray didn't even have a proper team leader, while the skeletons not only outnumbered their opponents by hundreds but were also well-trained and swift, dropping their response time to a minimum.

The battlefield only revealed who had more health in a large-scale confrontation. Powerful offensive pump units on the frontal battlefield were merely small fragments ruthlessly crushed by the meat grinder. In no time, the superheroes' front line was cut to pieces and they all ended up fighting independently, drowning in the sea of enemies.

As their lines continually rearranged and reports flowed back to command, the units specifically designed to exploit the weaknesses of the superhero monsters were brought in.

Iron Man was shelled, while the Skeleton Mage defended ordinary skeletal warriors with shields that allowed them to get close. Captain America could throw his shield but was immediately knocked over and trampled by skeleton horses. The instant he got back up, another team of cavalry charged at him. Spider-Man was incredibly strong, but skeleton birds that grew wings behind them could simply grab his shoulder and drop him from the sky.

As for Natasha and Hawkeye—who were normal individuals with training—it only took a small team of skeletons to keep killing them off.

Standing atop the skeleton bone dragon, Hela quietly observed the flow of the battlefield, marshalling her forces using the power of the Lord of the Undead. The enjoyment at the edges of her stoic features and her slightly raised lips was clear. To a war enthusiast, there was nothing greater than a battle that never ends.

From the frequency at which Hela commanded her forces, it could be seen she was hardly under any pressure. In truth, leading the undead army was a lot easier than leading Asgard into battle. After all, skeletal frames wouldn't get drunk the night before and rush into the enemy's forces wielding axes.

Since receiving the official ennoblement of a prince and divine powers, Hela had grown comfortable in her control over the Power of the Undead. After all the years of seeking war and destruction, Hela didn't enjoy this kind of one-sided crushing.

And so, the dark-haired princess deftly flicked her precious sword, sending a message to the base hidden in the clouds.

"Enlarge the portal; keep raising the stakes!"