Marvel: Xenomorphs

Duncan let go of the hammer, losing interest in it, and instead focused on the intense battle between the Abomination Xenomorph and the Deviant Leader.

"This thing… it's the same Deviant that absorbed Juggernaut. Just as I expected, it has become incredibly powerful, though not to an uncontrollable level—certainly not at a Prime Sky Father tier," Duncan observed carefully.

Even though the Abomination Xenomorph carried Hulk's genes, making it far stronger than Abomination and giving it much greater growth potential, it was still not Hulk himself.

As the battle progressed, the Abomination Xenomorph struggled to gain the upper hand, taking more and more hits.

The Deviant Leader was highly intelligent. After adapting to the Abomination Xenomorph's strength, it launched targeted counterattacks. It increased its own size significantly and, combined with the indestructible power it had inherited from the Juggernaut, was able to withstand the Abomination Xenomorph's assaults.

Although it was not as physically strong as the Abomination Xenomorph and couldn't defeat it in the short term, over time, victory was inevitable.

"One isn't enough? Then let's gang up on it."

At Duncan's command, several powerful Xenomorphs swarmed in from all directions, pouncing on the Deviant Leader.

The Deviant Leader was furious. What enraged it even more was the realization that the creatures attacking it were also Deviants—its own kind.

It let out an enraged screech. With its intelligence, it had already figured out what was happening. It turned its glowing red eyes toward Duncan.

"That's right, it was me," Duncan said calmly, standing beside Thor. "I woke your people up. I'm the reason they were captured again and again."

Under normal circumstances, these Deviants would only have awakened when the Celestial embedded in Earth's core stirred, triggering global earthquakes that shattered the ice covering an Alaskan lake.

But thanks to Duncan, they had appeared ahead of schedule.

Duncan had no intention of negotiating with these creatures that fed on humans. Capturing them alive would be ideal, but if that wasn't possible, extermination was the best solution.

Furious, the Deviant Leader let out a piercing scream.

"You think I don't know you've stationed more of your kind around us?" Duncan said, his tone unwavering. "They've already met their opponents. Who wins and who loses remains to be seen."

Abandoning its battle with the Abomination Xenomorph and ignoring Thor, the Deviant Leader charged at Duncan, intent on killing him. But the Abomination Xenomorph and the attacking Xenomorphs surrounded it, blocking its path.

Every time the Deviant Leader tried to act, over a dozen Xenomorphs launched relentless attacks. The sheer frequency and intensity of their strikes created an impenetrable onslaught, though they had yet to break through its defenses.

From a distance, a Spitter Xenomorph sprayed its acidic blood at the Deviant Leader. The liquid sizzled upon contact with its skin, but thanks to the Juggernaut's resilience, the damage was minimal.

Under the heavy storm clouds, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled.

The newly awakened Deviants were immediately met with the Xenomorphs' ferocious assault. The two species clashed in the open wasteland.

With incredible speed and an uncanny instinct for battle, they moved like phantoms through the storm, using the rough terrain to their advantage. Sometimes they fought one-on-one; other times, when repelled, they immediately turned to ambush another opponent.

From the very start, tactical maneuvers reached their peak in this battlefield.

Only the sounds of flesh being torn apart and agonized screeches revealed the brutal nature of the fight.

From a purely tactical standpoint, both species were formidable. However, the Xenomorphs were superior—they were living weapons, a fusion of pure violence and deadly beauty.

The Deviants fell short in comparison. Lacking the Xenomorphs' hardened exoskeletons, inner jaws, and razor-sharp tails, they relied more on energy absorption. But against armored enemies like the Xenomorphs, they often struggled to land effective attacks.

To absorb energy, the Deviants had to break through the Xenomorphs' tough outer shells first.

Xenomorphs were living war machines, born clad in armor. Their every movement was made for combat—to fight and kill until death. They showed absolute obedience, absolute coordination. No retreat. No fear.

Occasionally, lightning illuminated the battlefield, revealing a terrifying sight.

The Xenomorphs stood or crawled, moving with military precision, their silence as cold as steel. Each attack was a lethal strike, ruthlessly tearing apart the Deviants.

Some unfortunate Deviants found themselves surrounded, screeching for help as they backed away. But by the time their allies tried to intervene, the victims had already been overwhelmed, ripped apart into countless pieces.

Regeneration? It didn't matter. The Xenomorphs ensured their enemies were shredded beyond recovery.

Of course, even against Deviants, the Xenomorphs suffered casualties—especially the weaker Blood Xenomorphs. But even in death, they made sure their acidic blood splattered everywhere, maximizing their final act of destruction.

Deviants attempted to break through to Duncan, but each time, the Xenomorphs intercepted them with precise efficiency.

Thanks to Duncan's psychic link, the defensive lines remained flawless. Every Xenomorph was an extension of his vision, making it impossible for the Deviants to approach undetected.

This eerie and calculated combat strategy left a deep impression on everyone watching.

Everywhere one looked, the biomechanical horror of the Xenomorphs burned itself into their minds.

"Midgardian, are these your warriors? What species are they?" Thor asked, captivated by the cold efficiency of the creatures.

Aside from the Spitters, most Xenomorphs could stand on two legs. To the untrained eye, they could almost be mistaken for an alien intelligent race.

And in a way, they were. Xenomorphs possessed high intelligence—not in technology, but in genetic evolution.

It was Thor's first time encountering such beings.

"Xenomorphs. My Xenomorphs are working hard to take down these impolite Deviants," Duncan replied. "But I'd prefer to capture them alive."

Perhaps it was the intensity of battle stirring something in Thor's blood—a primal desire for conquest and destruction—but his voice rose with excitement.

"No need for prisoners! If they are our enemies, then we must crush them completely on the battlefield!"

His eyes then locked onto the Abomination Xenomorph. A brutal war machine—it was exactly his kind of aesthetic.

"That big one is strong. I've fought many who looked tough but were worthless in battle. He's not one of them. You're lucky to have warriors like these. Have you won their loyalty?"

"Of course. But shouldn't you be picking up your hammer, God of Thunder?"

"I can do that anytime I want."

Thor was eager for battle, wanting to show these Midgardians the true power of a god—especially in front of creatures designed solely for war.

With a sharp clap, Thor reached for his hammer—but it didn't budge.

"What?!"

His face twisted in disbelief. He tried again, using all his strength. Nothing.

A look of despair crossed his face as he let out a hollow laugh.

"So this is my punishment, Father?"

The brewing storm finally broke, rain pouring down in sheets, almost as if the heavens were answering him.

Thor realized then—Odin wasn't joking. He was truly mortal now. No divine power. No godly strength.

How was he supposed to fight the Deviants like this?

"Don't worry about it."

Duncan clapped him on the shoulder. "You're just not strong enough yet. But I can give you what you need."

His eyes gleamed.

"Young Thor, do you desire power?"

...

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