"Stop!" Ashborn didn't hesitate for even a second upon seeing the notification. A cold sweat ran down his back—he had already drawn the Oblivion's attention, and now it seemed something even greater was watching. He didn't want to push his luck and ended up facing the shadow of the creator of the Marvel universe itself.
"Kill them all—we don't have time to waste. Leave Jean Grey and Galactus in a half-dead state." His voice was steady, but his unease was clear.
Energy Master wasted no time. With a simple gesture, he drained the zombies of their life force, leaving behind nothing but bones.
Ashborn stepped forward, using [Shadow Extraction], bringing forth a new legion of shadows from the remains of the fallen.
Spider-Man, Iron Man, Ant-Man, Luke Cage, and Wolverine were the only ones Ashborn chose to resurrect as shadows. With a simple command, [Shadow Extraction] was activated, and one by one, they rose once more, their forms now cloaked in darkness, kneeling silently before their new master.
Ashborn floated off the dragon, using [Ruler's Authority] to glide effortlessly toward Thor's lifeless body. He paused, eyes settling on Mjolnir, the legendary hammer resting beside its former wielder. For a moment, he simply stared at it before reaching out.
Unlike the common misconception, one didn't need a pure heart to lift the hammer. Worthiness was not about morality—it was about power, about destruction, about the unyielding will to impose one's force upon the world.
Ashborn wrapped his fingers around Mjolnir's handle.
"To be worthy of the hammer is to break, to smash, to destroy…" he muttered, gripping the weapon tightly. His voice was calm, yet it carried a weight that seemed to stir something deep within the ancient artifact.
"So tell me, hammer… will you join me in battle?" For a moment, nothing happened. Then, Mjolnir shuddered in his grasp. A storm brewed above, dark clouds twisting unnaturally as crackling lightning illuminated the battlefield.
"I don't care for Thor's power," Ashborn continued, his voice barely above a whisper, yet carried by the rising winds. "I care for the God Tempest. The mother of all storms. The true force behind you."
The hammer trembled violently now.
"Has it been fun?" he asked, tilting his head. "This rotten universe? Serving an owner who never even realized his true potential? A god who had to rely on you for the most basic of things?"
Mjolnir roared. The storm above exploded into chaos, lightning flashing wildly.
"You were once a storm greater than any galaxy known to man," Ashborn continued, his voice unwavering as he gripped Mjolnir. "So powerful that Odin himself had to seal you away. But look around you—this universe is dying. Soon, it will be devoid of all life, leaving you to rage in solitude."
The hammer trembled violently in his grasp, bolts of electricity arcing off its surface, crackling with unrestrained fury.
"But that's a sad fate, isn't it?" Ashborn mused, his golden eyes locked onto the hammer. "So why don't you follow me instead? With me, you'll never be caged again."
As if in response, the comic storm clouds above erupted, a bolt of pure, divine lightning tearing through the sky and striking them both.
The world shook. Susan gasped, instinctively raising her hands to form a forcefield around Ashborn, but before she could act, Mega Mind raised a hand.
"Don't worry," he said calmly, watching the unfolding event. His voice carried certainty, even as the storm raged around them.
This wasn't a rejection. It was a baptism.
[Sensing the host has picked up Mjolnir, unlocking both the power of Thor and the Mother Storm trapped within it… Detecting a new ore, Uru.
Absorbing the Runes inscribed on the hammer—transmuting their enchantments into raw fuel for the host's power…
Conversion complete.
Congratulations, the host's power has reached its peak. The only path for the [Shadow Monarch] strength to grow further is through increased mastery of [Umbrakinesis].
The Mother Storm has been fully absorbed into the newly evolved [Shadow Monarch's Ore], now reforged with Uru.
As a result, the host's armor has undergone an unprecedented transformation, granting an exponential increase in power.]
As the system's notification faded, Ashborn exhaled slowly, feeling the raw, crackling power coursing through him. The very fabric of reality seemed to ripple under the pressure of his mere presence. His newly forged armor no longer just emanated darkness—it now howled with an eternal storm, flickering between pure shadow and divine lightning.
Mjolnir, once an artifact that decided the worth of its wielder, now was fused wiith his [Shadow Monarch Gear], strengthening not only him but both the Primroidal storm, and his shadow soldiers to greater heights.
'The stronger I get, the stronger my shadow soldiers become… but at this rate, I'll never surpass my heavy hitters,' Ashborn thought, comparing his own strength to that of his most formidable shadows.
"Arise!" His voice echoed through the void of space, a command that sent ripples across reality itself. Black lightning crackled violently, shooting from his body in chaotic arcs. The moment the energy surged forth, it struck the remains of the fallen zombies—Thor, Thanos, Gladiator, Firelord.
Space itself twisted under the weight of the summoning. A massive shadow tornado erupted into the abyss, devouring the corpses in a swirling vortex of pure darkness. The pull of its energy was so immense that it bent the very fabric of spacetime, distorting the surrounding area like a collapsing star.
Then, in the midst of the storm, four towering figures emerged. Gladiator, his form wreathed in shadow, eyes blazing with unwavering supremacy.
Firelord, his cosmic flames now a black inferno, seething with unnatural power.
Thanos, exuding an even greater aura of inevitability, his very existence a paradox of death and rebirth.
And finally, Thor, the God of Thunder, his new form now infused with the very storm Ashborn had claimed.
They stepped forward in unison, their power crackling through the void, before falling to one knee.
"Let's go to Asgard," Ashborn commanded as his shadow shifted, forming a swirling portal. Without hesitation, he stepped through, emerging onto the golden realm of the gods.
The moment he arrived, Odin was already there, waiting.
Ashborn expected this. The moment he absorbed the Runes from Mjolnir, Odin would have sensed the shift. The All-Father stood tall, his one remaining eye burning with divine fury. He wasn't alone. Behind him, a sea of zombified Asgardians stretched across the horizon—warriors, gods, and legends, all twisted into grotesque mockeries of their former selves.
Ashborn barely spared them a glance. His attention was on Odin.
"Franklin," he said, a faint smirk on his lips. "Let's see how much damage 1% of your power can do."
At those words, Franklin shot forward, an unstoppable force against the decaying might of Zombie Odin—a clash of cosmic power against divine wrath.
"Charge!" Heimdall's voice roared through the battlefield, and the undead forces of Asgard surged forward.
Ashborn exhaled, then raised his hand… and brought it down. In an instant, the ground trembled as a shadow tsunami exploded forth, billions of shadow soldiers materializing at his command. The battlefield drowned in darkness as Asgard's forces were met with an overwhelming flood of shadows.