Reborn as a Saiyan in marvel

With Thor's completely unconscious body slung over his shoulder, William surveyed the devastated cityscape, the golden halls of Asgard now reduced to smoldering ruins. The once proud capital of the gods lay in ruin, its grandeur eclipsed by the aftermath of a cosmic battle beyond mortal comprehension.

Amidst the destruction, Jean Grey took an uneasy step forward, her emerald eyes darting across the wreckage. Confusion marred her delicate features as she turned toward William.

"Uhm, William… where are we?" Her voice was laced with nervous hesitation, her mind struggling to process the sheer level of devastation surrounding her.

William exhaled, shifting Thor's weight slightly as he scratched the back of his head. He could already sense the guilt creeping into her mind, even before she had fully grasped the situation. She thought she was responsible for this, he needed to put that notion to rest immediately.

"You weren't truly responsible," he reassured her, his voice firm yet gentle. He nodded toward the distance, where the colossal ashen skull of Surtr lay, its empty eye sockets still burning with embers of its former might.

Jean's breath hitched. Her eyes widened at the sight of the giant's remains, and for a brief moment, she instinctively took a step back, startled by the sheer scale of the monstrous being. But she quickly collected herself, straightening her posture as she turned back to William, waiting for his full answer.

As she gazed at him, her piercing green eyes seemed to peer through him, as if searching his very soul for the truth.

For a fleeting moment, William found himself lost in those eyes.

"Beautiful…" The thought escaped him before he could stop it.

Jean's face instantly flushed a deep red, her lips parting slightly in surprise before she turned her head away, trying to hide her embarrassment.

Deep within her soul, the Phoenix stirred. Though a force of cosmic destruction, it felt something, something warm, something unfamiliar. Jean placed a hand on her chest, feeling the strange, fluttering sensation that had forced its way into her heart.

William, momentarily confused by her reaction, quickly shook off his thoughts and finally answered her original question.

"We're in the grand city of Asgard," he said, casting a glance at the ruins surrounding them. "Or, at least… what's left of it."

Jean's brows furrowed.

"Asgard?" she repeated, the name foreign on her tongue. She searched her memory, trying to place it among Earth's history, but came up blank. "I don't believe I've ever heard of such a place on Earth."

A low chuckle escaped William's lips.

"Who said we're on Earth?"

The moment the words left his mouth, silence fell between them.

Jean froze.

Her heart skipped a beat as realization dawned on her. Slowly, she turned her gaze skyward, scanning the heavens above.

She had been too distracted by the battle, by the fire, by the overwhelming rush of power and chaos to notice before. But now, now she looked.

And she saw.

The stars were wrong.

Not a single constellation she recognized. No Orion. No Ursa Major. No North Star guiding her way home.

Nothing.

A cold shiver ran down her spine. She was standing on alien soil.

She wasn't on Earth anymore.

Before William could ask what was wrong, Jean suddenly surged forward, gripping his arm with both hands. A surge of excitement burned away the initial shock, her emerald eyes now ablaze with wonder.

"Do you mean…" Her voice trembled, but not with fear. "Do you mean we're on another planet?"

Her entire being radiated with energy, an untamed thrill coursing through her as if the very idea ignited something deep within her soul.

William chuckled at her reaction, nodding in affirmation.

Jean barely registered his response before she whirled around, taking in the alien city with new eyes. The ruins, the strange architecture, the remnants of divine power still crackling in the air, it was all real. She was standing on another world.

William, amused by her childlike wonder, finally gestured toward the unconscious figure slung over his shoulder.

"Meet Thor. God of Thunder… and King of Asgard."

Jean turned back to him, opening her mouth to respond, but then she felt it.

The thoughts. The remnants of divine consciousness flickered in Thor's mind. The surface thoughts of a being who truly believed in his godhood.

Her breath caught in her throat as her expression shifted from excitement to pure, unfiltered astonishment.

There was no trick. No illusion.

This was real.

And she was standing among gods.

Jean quickly retracted her power from Thor's mind, realizing that prying any further might offend the deity before her. Though curiosity burned within her, she knew better than to risk the wrath of a god. Instead, she shifted her attention to William, her emerald eyes flickering with intrigue as she studied him from the corner of her gaze. She found herself oddly captivated by his presence.

Very handsome... The thought surfaced in her mind unbidden, and she felt her face heat up. She quickly averted her gaze, but the Phoenix within her stirred once more, as if teasing her for her moment of admiration.

"AWOOOO!"

The sudden, bone-chilling howl shattered the moment, sending a shiver down Jean's spine. She instinctively took a step back before gripping onto William's arm, peering over his shoulder with wide eyes. "What the hell is that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The shadows ahead rippled and twisted like living tendrils before parting to reveal the massive form of Fenrir. Its glowing eyes locked onto them, brimming with a primal intensity that made Jean's breath hitch. The monstrous wolf prowled forward, each step deliberate and powerful, until the goddess riding upon its back came into full view.

Hela sat upon her steed with an effortless grace, her long, horned helm casting an imposing silhouette against the ruinous backdrop of Asgard. In her grasp, Mjolnir, once a beacon of divine thunder, now appeared utterly drained of its power. The once-vibrant runes along its surface were dim and lifeless, stripped of their usual brilliance.

William tensed as her gaze flickered toward Thor's unconscious body in his grasp. There was no malice in her expression, only a quiet, calculating understanding. Then, she gave a small nod of approval.

"A good king willingly sacrifices his power to save his people," she mused, her voice carrying a strange mixture of respect and amusement. With an effortless flick of her wrist, she tossed Mjolnir to the ground at William's feet.

He hesitated before reaching down and grasping the legendary hammer. The moment his fingers curled around the cold metal, he felt an odd sense of weightlessness, as if something that should have been impossible had become trivial. Confusion flickered across his face.

"How... am I able to lift this?" he murmured, turning to Hela for an explanation.

A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Don't get cocky, kid. Mjolnir is in a dormant state. The power it once held was overcharged to its limits, it's essentially nothing more than a glorified slab of Uru metal right now." She shrugged her slender shoulders. "At this point, anyone could lift it."

Jean released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, her grip on William's arm slowly loosening. The revelation didn't seem to lessen the awe she felt toward the hammer, though now, her fascination extended to William as well. How much power does he truly hold?

Hela turned away from them with a casual air, as if all of Asgard's destruction were little more than an afterthought to her. With a graceful swipe of her fingers, she carved a jagged rift into the very fabric of reality, revealing a swirling portal to the realm that bore her name. Before stepping through, she cast a final glance over her shoulder, her piercing gaze locking onto William's.

A knowing smirk played on her lips. "Try not to miss me too much." She winked, and in the blink of an eye, the portal snapped shut, leaving nothing but silence in her wake.

William and Jean exchanged a quiet, weary sigh, their gazes sweeping over the devastation that surrounded them. The air was thick with the acrid scent of smoke and the weight of shattered stone. "This is going to take years," William muttered, his voice heavy with the gravity of the task ahead. He exhaled sharply, watching as dust swirled in the wake of his breath, the magnitude of the destruction almost too much to comprehend.

From the remnants of the Palace, Frigga's form emerged, the regal energy of her magic coiling around her as she lifted debris with an elegance that defied the chaos. She moved with purpose, her delicate fingers outstretched, guiding massive blocks of stone away from her path. With a soft grunt, she hoisted a colossal column above her head, sending it crashing to the side with the force of a thunderclap. Her movements were deliberate, but there was a subtle weariness in her gaze, as if even her boundless strength couldn't fully mask the exhaustion of the battle.

Frigga reached the surface, her husband, Odin, cradled tenderly in her arms. He was unconscious, his once-mighty form now a shadow of its former self. The sight of him, battered and still, seemed to weigh on her, the lines of her face darkening momentarily. Shadows flickered across her expression, giving her a fleeting, almost otherworldly appearance, an ethereal darkness. But in a heartbeat, her features softened, returning to the warmth and maternal grace that had always defined her.

Her eyes scanned the battlefield, taking in the sight of William holding Thor's limp form in his arms. By his side stood a woman, her presence commanding, with an aura of strength that resonated beyond that of mere gods. Her red hair gleamed like fire in the dim light, her power undeniable. Frigga's breath caught in her chest, a shudder of recognition seizing her. "The Mother of Creation..." she whispered to herself, the realization sending a tremor through her heart, the weight of the knowledge profound and unsettling.

With quiet resolve, Frigga approached the group, her steps measured, each one echoing in the silence of the ruined Palace. She touched Thor's forehead gently, her fingers warm and steady, and a sense of relief washed over her when she realized his injuries were not as dire as she had feared. She released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her mind shifting back to the immediate task at hand.

Looking up at William, she met his gaze, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. "Do you know where Loki has gone?" she asked softly, the tension in her voice betraying the weight of her words. William glanced over his shoulder and nodded, his face shadowed with a quiet, bitter understanding. He pointed toward a collapsed structure in the distance, where Loki's crumpled form still lay amid the debris. A faint wheeze of pain escaped his lips, a reminder that even the trickster was not immune to the consequences of his actions.

Frigga's heart clenched as she absorbed the scene. She was a mother, after all, and no matter how far her sons strayed, they would always remain hers.

A heavy silence settled over the ruinous battlefield. William raised a hand, signaling for the ship to lower its ramp. The faint hum of its engines was the only sound for a moment before the heavy metallic doors groaned open, revealing the survivors within.

One by one, the Asgardians who had been fortunate enough to escape the carnage began to descend. They hesitated at first, their eyes wide with a mixture of awe and sheer terror. The once proud city of Asgard, their home, now lay in ruins, its towering structures crumbled, its streets shattered. The very land seemed to mourn, its beauty scorched and broken.

The survivors stepped into the stillness, their faces painted with shock, disbelief, and grief. Women clutched their children to their chests, their expressions hollow, as though the weight of the loss had already hollowed out their spirits. The older warriors, those who had fought, bled, and died defending Asgard, stood with their shoulders slumped, their bodies weary. Their eyes scanned the horizon, but there was no comfort to be found. What had once been their glorious home now looked like a graveyard, a place where their hopes had been buried beneath mountains of stone.

In the still air, the cries of women and children rang out, sharp and sorrowful, breaking the silence like jagged glass. Each wail carried the weight of a thousand untold stories, of lost mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters. The sound wove itself into the quiet like a shadow, thick with the sting of tragedy. It was an atmosphere of unrelenting melancholy, a mourning of both the living and the dead, for in this broken land, all seemed to have lost something.