King's Coming in Marvel

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Sif was already some distance away, staring at Michael within the flames, wide-eyed.

Malekith had been calm initially, not taking Michael seriously. But as the temperature of the flames intensified, his composure began to crack, replaced by surprise and even a hint of fear.

Being a dark elf, he despised both light and fire, especially this level of heat, which felt like a supernova, quickly draining his strength.

Run!

He needed to escape; he couldn't withstand this temperature.

"Trying to run? Not so tough, are you, insect…"

Seeing Malekith turn to flee, Michael sneered and launched forward.

Engulfed in flames, Michael swung his fist, striking Malekith directly. Malekith screamed as his body was hurled through the air, smashing into a wall before flying out of sight.

In an instant, he had been knocked away, vanishing from view!

"Stop! Stop now!"

Sif's voice rang out, her tone filled with panic as she felt the palace walls trembling from the intense heat.

Michael didn't respond. Flames surged around him as he quickly took to the air.

Soaring above, he zeroed in on the dark elf fighters, extending his hands as high-temperature flames flared around him. Before he even touched the fighters, they exploded one by one, disintegrating into ashes on impact.

Bang! Bang!

One, two...

The sound of explosions echoed across Asgard, catching the attention of everyone below. They watched in awe as the dark elves' fighters were obliterated. In moments, the entire dark elf fleet had been reduced to nothing.

"Victory!" Came the jubilant cries from below, celebrating the triumph.

Gradually, Michael lowered the temperature of his flames, allowing the air to cool before descending back to Sif's side. As he landed, the flames surrounding him faded away.

"Remember the bet—you owe me a date." He said, flashing a smile at Sif before staggering forward.

Sif quickly caught him, relieved to find he had simply fainted from exhaustion. Cradling him, she blushed, her eyes softening with admiration.

---

"Are you awake?"

Michael slowly opened his eyes, hearing a gentle voice nearby. He turned and saw Sif sitting next to him, watching him with a look of concern.

"Where am I?"

He sat up, memories returning—he'd used his fiery powers to drive Malekith away, showing him who the real threat was, before finally collapsing from the effort.

"This is my home." Sif replied softly.

"Your home?"

Michael glanced around, noting the simplicity of the surroundings. It didn't quite look like a typical woman's room, but considering Sif's warrior lifestyle, it made sense.

"After you defeated Malekith, you collapsed from exhaustion, so I brought you here. I hadn't expected you to be so powerful. Even without the Aether, you're formidable. It's just…a pity Malekith managed to escape." She added, shaking her head in disappointment.

Only then did Michael notice the gentleness in her tone—a warmth that had replaced her usual stoicism.

"He got away?" Michael asked, surprised. He'd thought Malekith was finished.

The dark elf leader truly was resilient. But if Michael could defeat him once, he could certainly do it again. Once he fully harnessed the power of the Aether, Malekith would no longer pose a threat.

"What's the situation outside?" Michael asked.

"It's dire." Sif replied, her expression grim, "The dark elves launched a large-scale attack, and Asgard suffered heavy losses. But Odin has rallied forces to retaliate and make the dark elves pay."

"Figures… Odin wouldn't take this lying down." Michael mused. Malekith would return eventually, especially with the Aether's allure.

But that wasn't Michael's concern. He just had to wait until the Nine Realms aligned. When that happened, Malekith's ambitions would be thwarted, and Michael would be ready.

"You're not backing out of our bet, are you?" Michael suddenly asked, looking at Sif with a mischievous smile.

Sif paused, her cheeks coloring. She met his gaze without flinching, then nodded, "Of course not. You've proven yourself a true warrior. I'll keep my word—I'll date you."

"You know, you're practically a hero of Asgard now. You killed the Cursed warriors, wounded Malekith, and repelled the dark elves' attack. I'm sure there are many women here who'd want to date you." She added with a smile.

Watching her smile, Michael was momentarily dazed. Grasping her hand, he said, "Your smile is beautiful. You should smile more often—I love seeing it. But…save that smile just for me."

Sif said nothing, but nodded shyly.

Michael suddenly asked, "I heard you only like warriors. There must be plenty of warriors in Asgard, right? What if you meet someone stronger than me?"

Sif's smile faded, and she spoke firmly, "Who do you take me for? Yes, I admire strong warriors, as only those stronger than me are worthy of my respect and affection. But once I make a decision, I stick to it. Maybe there will be others stronger than you, but as long as you keep growing, you'll surpass them, won't you?"

Michael laughed, feeling reassured, "With you saying that, I feel even more determined. Just give me some time. Believe me, I'll become the strongest person in the universe!"

Sif rolled her eyes, lightly smacking him, "Getting cocky, are we? I only agreed to date you; I didn't say anything beyond that!"

"Well, I'm at least the first man to date you, and I intend to be the last. There may not be more…yet. But there's time. So, Goddess Sif, when do we start this date?"

Sif's cheeks flushed as she pulled her hand away, "Let go of my hand first!"

Michael only tightened his hold, "On a date, we're supposed to hold hands, aren't we?"

"Are we really?" Sif asked uncertainly, her life having revolved around training and battle rather than romance.

"Absolutely. Do you have plans today? With everyone busy recovering outside, there's no point in going out. Why don't we stay in and have a private date, just the two of us?"

"But…what do we do at home?" Sif asked, clearly puzzled.

Michael chuckled, "Oh, there's plenty we can do. Even if we do nothing, being alone with you is more than enough."

Sif rolled her eyes playfully, her expression softening with a hint of coyness, "You smooth talker."