"Only gods like me, who can continuously grow stronger through fear, can maintain strength and physical vitality beyond the power amplification granted by the throne of Asgard!" Kuur sneered as he gazed at Odin, who sat slumped on the ground. His tone was filled with disdain. "If I had ruled Asgard for thousands of years without you overthrowing me, I'd be immeasurably more powerful than I am now! I wouldn't be a frail old man like you. I'd wield the unmatched strength of a truly aged Asgardian God-King and rise to become the King of All Gods, the Supreme King!"
"By the way," Kuur continued, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "even that little girl with the Death Godhead has more potential to be the rightful God-King of Asgard than you—or your son, the so-called God of Thunder. At least she's better qualified than either of you!"
"Because of your illegitimate ascension to the throne, you never understood the true secret of being Asgard's God-King. It's laughable that you've made the same mistake twice! If that so-called Goddess of Death had taken the throne, her age and divine domain would have already elevated her power far beyond yours."
"Sure, part of Asgard might have become a land of the dead, and people might have had to deal with the undead daily. But at least that Asgard would have been stronger and more prosperous than the shadow of its former self that exists now! Odin, you've destroyed Asgard's future—twice!"
"Look at what Asgard has become under your rule. Do you remember how many quasi-God-Kings served under me? How many Major Gods did I have? How vast was my army? And now, what do you have left? Do you even deserve to call yourself a God-King with such a pitiful legacy?" Kuur's voice thundered through the hall as he unleashed question after question, hammering Odin's psyche with brutal accusations.
At this moment, Kuur seemed more interested in breaking Odin's spirit than physically attacking him or freeing himself from Gungnir's hold. His goal was clear: to crush Odin's will completely, making him realize that his entire life's work was a failure. Kuur wanted Odin to see himself as the architect of Asgard's downfall from the very moment he had dared to claim the throne.
"That's because the war between us caused catastrophic losses!" Odin countered, his voice still strong despite his aged body. "Even now, I don't regret my decision. The fault lies with you, Kuur, not me!"
"You've been sealed away for so long, you have no idea what Asgard has endured! Under my rule, Asgard conquered the Nine Realms and became one of the most feared powers in the universe!"
Odin wanted to say more—to blame Kuur, Darkseid, the Celestials, the Heaven Dimension, Hela, Clark, and Robert for Asgard's current state. But before he could continue, Hela cut him off with a sneer.
"Conquered the Nine Realms under your rule?" Hela mocked, her laughter sharp and cold. "I'm still here, Father. You're taking credit for my accomplishments? Have you lied about it so much that you've started to believe your own fiction?"
Hela, too, wasn't in a hurry to attack. She could see that Odin was nearly out of strength. The best outcome for her would be for Odin to completely exhaust Kuur's power, leaving her with only Thor as an opponent.
As Kuur had pointed out, Hela was indeed the better candidate for the throne of Asgard. Armed with the knowledge of the throne's deeper secrets, Hela was more confident than ever that she could be the one to lead Asgard into a new golden age. She envisioned a future where Asgard once again conquered the cosmos, its name inspiring fear and reverence among all races—a supreme and glorious divine empire.
While this royal family drama unfolded in Asgard, trouble was brewing on Earth.
Before Kuur left Earth, he had intended to use his eight hammers to control individuals and spread chaos, thereby sowing fear and restoring his strength. Though Robert had intercepted the hammers, Kuur had still managed to remotely activate two fear-energy-infused artifacts in Gotham City.
Specifically, Kuur had taken control of two yellow power rings from the Sinestro Corps. One of these rings had found its way to Bruce Wayne, while the other had settled on an unlikely host within Arkham Asylum: Jonathan Crane, better known as the Scarecrow.
Jonathan Crane had once been a psychology professor with expertise in chemistry, dedicating his life to studying the emotion of fear. His research led him to develop "fear gas," a chemical compound capable of forcing victims to hallucinate their worst fears.
After adopting the persona of the Scarecrow, Crane had made it his mission to spread terror, deriving pleasure from breaking his victims psychologically. His fear gas was nearly impossible to defend against, allowing him to carve out a terrifying reputation. However, his success was short-lived. Fear was Bruce Wayne's domain, and the Dark Knight's immunity to Crane's tactics ultimately led to the Scarecrow's capture and imprisonment in Arkham Asylum.
Even within Arkham, Crane's abilities were limited. While his fear gas was effective against ordinary people, most of Arkham's inmates were too mentally unstable to be manipulated in the usual way. Moreover, some inmates, like the Joker, were outright immune to his fear gas, much to Crane's frustration. The Joker's madness and indomitable will were beyond Crane's comprehension—proof that not everyone was susceptible to fear.
Crane dreamed of creating a more potent version of his fear gas, one capable of overwhelming even those with the strongest wills. However, before he could realize this ambition, fate intervened: a yellow power ring descended upon him.
At first, Crane didn't understand the significance of the ring. Though he recognized its supernatural power, his disdain for anything unrelated to fear led him to dismiss it. But soon, Crane felt the ring's energy resonate with him—a pure, terrifying power that even he couldn't fully resist.
For the first time, the Scarecrow experienced genuine fear. His initial reaction was to don his iconic mask, hoping it would protect him from the ring's influence. But it was futile; the ring's fear energy was too overwhelming. Yet this very sensation of fear—raw and uncontrollable—ignited a spark of excitement in Crane's mind. If he, the master of fear, couldn't resist the ring's power, who else could?
Driven by curiosity and ambition, Crane accepted the yellow power ring, which immediately began to reshape him. Yellow Lanterns are not devoid of fear; rather, they learn to harness and control it. Crane, while not as adept as Bruce Wayne, managed to achieve enough control to become a functional Yellow Lantern.
But before Crane could unleash his newfound power on Gotham, Kuur's distant influence activated the ring. A blinding yellow light engulfed the Scarecrow, amplifying his latent fears and madness while transforming his body.
Within moments, Crane was no longer human. He became a towering figure of straw, wielding a scythe and rake like tools of harvest. He resembled a living scarecrow—a grotesque embodiment of terror.
"Fear!"
With a single leap, the monstrous Scarecrow emerged from Arkham Asylum, his body radiating waves of fear energy and emitting thick clouds of terror-inducing gas. Within seconds, the asylum's inmates were overwhelmed by fear, their screams echoing through its halls.
Chaos erupted as inmates succumbed to terror, some turning violent while others ended their own lives. Death spread like a plague, each death amplifying the fear energy that Kuur drew upon from afar.
The Scarecrow didn't stop. With a mighty jump, he crossed the gap between Arkham and Gotham City, landing in the heart of the metropolis. He was a god of fear and death, his presence spreading panic as he wielded his scythe and rake to claim countless lives.
The Scarecrow's ultimate goal wasn't merely to instill fear—it was to drive people to their deaths in terror, maximizing the fear energy they released for Kuur's benefit.
Meanwhile, in the Batcave, Bruce Wayne faced a similar crisis. The yellow power ring he wore had also been activated by Kuur, unleashing a surge of fear energy. But unlike Crane, Bruce wasn't entirely consumed.
Bruce's body, already altered by the influence of the Dark Dimension, had achieved an uneasy balance with the ring's power. While this prevented him from transforming into a monster like the Scarecrow, it also made him a dangerous wildcard. If Bruce lost control, he could become something far more terrifying.
"Sir..." Alfred entered the Batcave, his face a mix of concern and wariness. He froze momentarily at the sight of Bruce, whose body glowed with alternating yellow and black energy.
Without waiting for Bruce to explain, Alfred contacted the Avengers for backup. At the same time, his hand hovered over a concealed button, ready to activate a failsafe if the situation spiraled out of control.
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