280

Sakaar

Forseti stirred and woke from unconsciousness. His ears filled with a cacophony of voices and clamorous shouts, reminiscent of a bustling city.

"He's awake!" someone shouted.

Footsteps approached in a hurried shuffle, mingling with hushed discussions.

"We might get a good price for him..."

"Selling him here is foolish. Greedy Carlo won't pay enough; he might even try to snatch him. Varg caught a powerful one and sold him to Carlo for five million."

"Five million? That much!"

"Balderdash! Waglyn sold the obedience disk alone for nearly five million. It was practically a giveaway."

Forseti shook his head, his vision clearing slowly. He found himself surrounded by humanoid figures in masks, staring at him like he was some exotic beast.

"Haha, welcome to your new home, trash," grinned a masked man.

Forseti frowned, scanning his surroundings. There was no sign of Hela or Beta Ray Bill. The Flame Gloves, Rivendell Sword, and even the box housing Venom were all gone—likely taken. Fortunately, the Holy Deed remained unnoticed; its unassuming appearance and blank pages offered no temptation.

However, the Holy Light pointer oscillated, indicating many around him were tainted by sin.

Besides losing his gear, weakness washed over him in waves, hunger and thirst gnawing as if he hadn't eaten or drunk in days.

"Where am I?" Forseti muttered.

"This is Sakaar," replied the grinning masked man. "Didn't they tell you the name when they banished you here?"

"Sakaar!" Forseti exclaimed.

Passing through the wormhole had landed him on Sakaar, the junkyard planet Thor found himself stranded on in Thor: Ragnarok.

"That's right, Sakaar," the masked man continued. "It's the universe's dumping ground, housing criminals, outcasts, and garbage. You're now part of the refuse here." He gestured to himself. "You can call me Red Ghost."

Red Ghost leaned closer. "What's your name?"

"And where's my sword?" Forseti asked without answering.

"Is this what you're looking for?" Red Ghost produced the Rivendell Sword. "I might return it, but first, you'll help me in battle—help me clear our enemies."

"Aside from the arena champion, you're the strongest I've seen. It shouldn't be too difficult for you."

Forseti eyed him. "And what about the rest of my belongings?"

"Your sword, gloves, and that unopenable box," Red Ghost replied.

The silver box housing Venom was of Asgardian origin, its mechanism stubbornly resistant to most attempts to open it. These masked figures, frail as they seemed, were no exception, Forseti noted.

Acknowledging this, Forseti nodded. Suddenly, he lunged, striking out left and right, knocking two masked figures to the ground.

"Boom!"

The others recoiled.

Forseti prepared to strike again but was gripped by a sudden, intense numbness at his neck—as if a hand had clutched his heart, draining his strength.

His body spasmed, eyes wide with pain as he collapsed.

Red Ghost held a remote control, its blinking light signaling control.

"Rebelling is foolish," he remarked. "No one defies the ' obedience disk,' not even a champion."

He pressed the remote again, and the numbness gradually receded.

Though brief, the ordeal left Forseti sweating and gasping for breath, taking time to recover his senses.

Touching his neck, he found a small disk embedded in his flesh.

This was undoubtedly the same 'submission disk' Valkyrie used to subdue Thor—a device he never imagined would be used on him.

"Don't try removing it," Red Ghost warned. "It'll kill you. I acquired this disk, and if you destroy it, I'll ensure you suffer."

Forseti gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching.

Powerless to remove the disk now, weakened as he was, Forseti decided to focus on recovery rather than escape. The time wasn't right to resist, especially if Red Ghost had no intention of killing him.

"If you expect my help in battle, provide me with food," Forseti demanded.

"Get him food," Red Ghost ordered. A masked figure brought over a metal basin.

Inside were chopped lumps, likely mushrooms, sprinkled with various powders and sauces—crudely seasoned.

As a god of barbecue, Forseti found the dish distasteful and coarse.

But he had no other option. He began eating, devouring several bowls to sate his hunger.

Sitting back against the wall, Forseti closed his eyes, allowing his depleted mana to slowly regenerate over the next two hours.

Amidst the dim, foul-smelling room, he listened to the masked figures' conversations.

"Check this out," a masked man pulled out the Rivendell Sword. "Tsk tsk, such a sharp weapon. Only the High Lords and that new scavenger Legion in north have these."

"Boss! Boss!" A voice interrupted from outside.

"What's happening?" Red Ghost demanded.

"It's Wag; he's brought someone to attack us!" the masked man exclaimed.

"Damn it," Red Ghost cursed, retrieving a gun and turning to Forseti.

"I forgot we had a big guy now! Hey, big guy, if you don't want another encounter with the submission disk, help me deal with these intruders. I'll reward you with more than just mushrooms."

Forseti remained calm, emerging from the shadows. "I'll need weapons."