A golden portal flickered, shredding the very fabric of the dimensional wall.
As two beings stepped through the rift onto the soil of Midgard, their mere presence weighed heavily upon the atmosphere, crushing the surrounding air with sheer pressure.
Níðhöggr, now in his human form, revealed skin so pale it was almost translucent beneath his messy black hair.
With dark circles shadowing his eyes, he radiated a decadent, weary beauty, as if everything in the world was an insufferable chore. When he bit his lip and let out a faint sigh, he exuded a lethal musk—a pheromone so potent it would have made any ordinary woman swoon on the spot.
"Same as ever. This place reeks of stale exhaust."
Níðhöggr complained, cracking his neck from side to side. Beside him stood a massive man, over 200 centimeters tall—Ratatoskr in his human guise. He stood with his arms crossed, face twisted into a permanent scowl.
The brute spat on the ground, his expression darkening.
"Hey, Nid. Look at the state of this air. A one-night stand in a cesspool like this? Your fetishes are something else, you perverted lizard. Having sex in a place like this won't just give you an STD; you'll drop dead of lung disease first!"
"Villains are supposed to enjoy this kind of corrupt atmosphere, you damn rodent. Besides, my body is immortal. Lung disease? Don't be ridiculous," Níðhöggr retorted, looking ahead.
Standing there, watching them with a fan in hand and wearing her signature yellow robes, was the Ancient One. Her eyes were clouded with both vigilance and exhaustion.
"Níðhöggr, the Calamity of Earth. The moment you step onto this ground, the causality of the multiverse fluctuates. In 1945, history almost shattered because of you, and I barely managed to patch it together. What are you planning this time?"
At her overly formal tone, Níðhöggr simply shrugged and smirked. To anyone else, the decadent man’s smile would have been devastating, but to the Ancient One, it was merely the sneer of a cosmic nuisance.
"Hey, Sorceress. I appreciate the etiquette, but that fake formal tone is a bit nauseating. Just be comfortable like you used to. I’m a villain, remember? Being addressed with respect gives me the creeps."
The Ancient One's brow twitched visibly. She snapped her fan shut, her voice turning icy.
"Fine. Your vulgar personality hasn't changed. Then I shall dispense with the pleasantries. Get off this planet immediately, Níðhöggr. Your very existence is a poison to this world."
"Hey! You bald old hag! Why the hell are you talking like that? Our Nid might be a bit of a pushover, but he's a big shot in Yggdrasil! Watch your mouth before I rip you out by the roots!" Ratatoskr bellowed, swinging his fist.
The mere shockwave of his movement made the surrounding space ripple. However, Níðhöggr casually pressed down on Ratatoskr’s shoulder to calm him. He then took a step toward the Ancient One.
"Don’t be so stingy. I really just came here for a bit of tourism this time. I’m just going to play around with some girls and leave quietly. Oh, now that I look at you, Sorceress... you might be bald, but your features are actually my type. How about it? Want to have a hot one-night stand tonight? I can show you exactly what dragon-tier virility looks like."
Níðhöggr’s eyes flashed, and his innate ability, 'Charm,' rippled outward. Most beings would have become his slaves on the spot, stripping off their clothes in a daze, but the Ancient One was the Guardian of the Time Stone.
Intricate magic circles flared around her, deflecting the waves of Charm.
"Shut your mouth, you reptile. If you flap that vulgar tongue one more time, I will envelop this entire planet in the Mirror Dimension and trap you there for eternity."
At her sharp rebuke, Níðhöggr pouted and backed away.
"Tch, no sense of humor. Fine, I get it. I swear, in the name of Yggdrasil: I won't harm this planet as long as I’m not attacked first. I just... want to enjoy myself a bit."
Níðhöggr’s gaze was sincere. He claimed to be a villain, but he had no interest in pointless destruction. He was simply faithful to his 'desires'—eating delicious food and spending time with beautiful women.
The Ancient One stared into his eyes for a moment before sighing and relaxing her stance. She knew better than anyone that trying to drive this stubborn dragon away by force would turn Earth into dust long before he left.
"Very well. Do not forget that oath. If you cross the line, I will personally return you to the abyss in the name of Agamotto."
"Yeah, yeah. Oh, one question. Who’s the richest guy around here? A villain’s gotta enjoy the taste of bleeding a wealthy man dry, right?"
The Ancient One thought for a moment before answering.
"Tony Stark. CEO of Stark Industries. He is a man who symbolizes human technological advancement. However, his luck has run thin recently. He was kidnapped by a Middle Eastern terrorist organization known as the 'Ten Rings,' and his survival remains uncertain."
"Tony Stark? Ooh, the name smells like money already. Thanks, Baldy. Call me if you change your mind. I guarantee a night as hot as my dragon's breath."
"Get out! Now!"
Before the Ancient One could scream again, Níðhöggr waved his hand in the air. A red portal laced with pitch-black darkness opened.
"Hey, Rata! Let’s go. Let's start by raiding that rich guy’s house."
"Good grief, my Lord Níð-pushover. I thought you were finally going to do something villainous, but you're just going to go leech off some rich guy? This is pathetic! Hey! Wait for me!"
Ratatoskr grumbled but threw himself into the portal after Níðhöggr.
Malibu, Tony Stark’s Mansion.
A quiet living room where only the sound of the Pacific waves crashing against the cliffs could be heard. Usually, this place would be filled with Tony’s loud music and the whirring of machinery, but now only a cold silence remained.
A portal opened, and Níðhöggr and Ratatoskr appeared in the middle of the room. Níðhöggr whistled at the sophisticated interior.
"Oh, as expected of a rich guy, this house is top-tier. Hey, Rata. Go to the fridge and get some booze."
"Am I your servant? You crazy lizard bastard, seriously...!"
While cursing him out, Ratatoskr naturally headed toward the kitchen. Just then, the sound of heels clicking came from upstairs. It was Pepper Potts, her face gaunt from dealing with business matters every day since Tony's disappearance. She had come down after hearing the commotion.
"JARVIS? Did someone come in? Is that you, Happy?"
Pepper stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the two strange men in the living room. One was a chillingly handsome man with black hair and a decadent aura, while the other was a bear-like man with a menacing face.
Níðhöggr’s eyes narrowed the moment he saw Pepper.
"Oh... no rich guy, but there's a quite classic beauty here, isn't there?"
His eyes began to glow red. Níðhöggr’s 'Charm' slowly began to envelop Pepper. Ordinarily, she should have felt terror at the sight of the intruders, but the moment her eyes met his, her heart began to beat as if it would explode. Her mind went blank, and the man before her felt like the most irresistible existence in the world.
Níðhöggr approached Pepper with a seductive smile.
"Hello, gorgeous. Where’s the owner of this house? I have some business with him."
Pepper panted, answering him instinctively. "Tony... Tony was kidnapped. Please... who are you?"
Níðhöggr tilted Pepper's chin up slightly and whispered, "Me? I’m a very bad villain who could satisfy your every desire... or tear this world apart."
From the side, Ratatoskr, who was popping open a beer can, made a gagging face at the scene.
"Cut the bullshit, seriously. Hey, Nid! Quit it and unpack! Look at how red her face is. You're practically going to eat her alive, aren't you!"
Ignoring Ratatoskr’s heckling, Níðhöggr stared intently into Pepper's eyes, which were filled with a mix of fear and lust.
"Tony Stark was kidnapped? Hmm, it'll be a problem if my personal wallet disappears. Fine, should I go look for him?"
Níðhöggr’s official settlement on Earth began—starting with finding a missing billionaire. Of course, exactly what kind of 'hot' time he would spend with this beautiful secretary in the process depended entirely on his mood.
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