Previously, when Gene used the dimensional shuttle to reach Vanaheim, he had left an anchor point on Earth. It was this very anchor that had been used to send Dr. Foster back to Earth—and one that Gene himself could use to return home anytime.
But now, a minor mishap had occurred. He'd been unexpectedly "transported" to Jotunheim instead. Fortunately, the Earth-based anchor was still active. All he needed to do was recalibrate the navigation system inside his armor, use the anchor point to pinpoint Earth's coordinates, and he could make his way back home.
The wind and snow had grown more intense, engulfing all of Jotunheim in a freezing white storm. It was an environment that seemed tailor-made for the race that dwelled here—the Frost Giants. Only these thick-skinned, heavily built beings could survive such hostile conditions.
Seven massive figures slowly emerged from the snowstorm. Their bodies were cloaked in a blanket of white fur. Their muscles were hard as granite, and in their glowing crimson eyes, a menacing glint flickered.
Frost Giants—the native inhabitants of Jotunheim. Arch-enemies of the Asgardians. It was the leader of these giants, Laufey, who had once taken Odin's eye. Long ago, the Frost Giants had fought a cataclysmic war with the people of Asgard.
The seven giants surrounded Gene, forming a tight circle. They held crude but deadly weapons, their breath misting the air. Clearly, they saw Gene as prey—and had no intention of letting him go unharmed.
That suited Gene just fine.
Brilliant blue energy burst forth from his armor, followed by the hum of ionized plasma. In a dazzling flash of light, two of the Frost Giants vanished—gone without a trace. Thin wisps of smoke rose from where they had stood, as if to prove that something—or someone—had just been annihilated.
The remaining five giants exchanged glances. No words were needed; instinct kicked in. They silently retreated, disappearing back into the blizzard.
At least they weren't completely brainless.
Gene lowered his arm and turned his focus back to his previous task: recalibrating the internal positioning system in his armor. But just as he was about to continue, the life-sensor module inside his suit lit up again, detecting signs of nearby biological activity.
He activated enhanced vision. Through infrared detection, he picked up four heat signatures not far from his position. Judging by their radiation levels and body size, they were clearly not Frost Giants. These were humanoid—possibly Asgardians.
Gene paused and looked up. His sharp gaze cut through the storm from behind his V-shaped visor, locking onto the four figures.
He recognized them instantly.
Fandral. Sif. And two others known as the "Warriors Three." Among the most valiant warriors in all of Asgard, this trio had fought countless battles at Thor's side. The last of the four was Sif—the only woman among them, whose relationship with Thor had always been... complicated.
They were Thor's most loyal allies. In the first Thor movie, when Thor defied Odin's orders and was cast down to Earth, it was these four who stood by him the entire way.
"You're quite perceptive," Sif said, eyeing Gene's black armor. "Clearly, you're not a Frost Giant… but you're not from Asgard either. So where are you from?"
"Earth," Gene replied flatly. "Just passing through."
"Midgard?" The four exchanged confused looks. None of them had ever seen a Midgardian this powerful. With a single attack, he had vaporized two Frost Giants.
"Your strength is remarkable, warrior from Midgard," Fandral said, stepping forward. "We're currently shorthanded. Would you consider joining us?"
"Thanks," Gene said calmly, "but I have my own mission."
"You're alone in Jotunheim?" Hogun raised a thick eyebrow. "You're a human—you don't understand how dangerous this realm is. It's a land of endless frost and death. Giants roam freely here. We should leave, all of us."
"If you're referring to the giants," Gene's visor gleamed faintly, "I've already encountered them. I don't consider them a threat."
"Hey, buddy," Volstagg stepped in. "The giants we're talking about are not just ordinary brutes. There's something far more terrifying out here—something beyond imagination. If it finds us—"
Volstagg suddenly stopped talking.
The others also turned their heads, eyes narrowing through the snowstorm.
A gigantic shadow was approaching.
Each step it took sent shockwaves through the ice beneath their feet. The sound echoed like war drums, thundering in their chests.
The creature came to a halt before them.
Towering and colossal, the giant stood like a mountain. In its hand, it held a massive cleaver seemingly carved from solid frost—its crystal-clear blade shimmered with deathly beauty. The stench of blood clung to it, thick and heavy.
The four Asgardian warriors tensed immediately, treating the newcomer like one of the deadliest beings in the Nine Realms.
"I'm guessing," Gene said calmly, shifting his gaze from the Frost Giant to the others, "that's the terrifying thing you were talking about."
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