Chapter 103: Hela Got Allen "Pregnant"
"Sis, he's your admirer. Likes to dress up like you and get bent over."
Allen pulled out the skull he'd been keeping under his arm.
The skull's soul flame had already gone out—it was playing dead and didn't respond.
You really can't trust the mentally unstable. He exposed Allen's embarrassing secret the moment they met.
With a casual wave of her hand, Hela sent the skull flying with divine power—and repaired its body while she was at it.
She looked like she'd seen this sort of thing countless times before.
Considering the death goddess's breathtaking beauty, it was only natural for her subordinates to develop improper thoughts.
"Come on, let's catch up."
Hela took Allen straight into the Underworld.
The moment they crossed the spatial barrier, the atmosphere instantly turned gloomy.
"Why does the Underworld look so dead? Can't someone just open a window?"
Allen looked up at the dim, overcast sky, as though it were forever shrouded in storm clouds.
Below, the earth was a dark brown, as if black was the only color left in existence.
"Nobody maintains the outskirts of the Underworld, so yeah—it looks pretty desolate."
Hela replied offhandedly, while secretly ordering her undead army to withdraw.
Without her presence on the battlefield, invading Hell was impossible. And holding it temporarily meant nothing.
"By the way, you're not even dead. Why are you in Hell?" Hela asked, puzzled.
Fallen souls sent to Hell were always the most vile and wicked.
And Allen… well, she knew what kind of person he was. He wasn't that type.
"It's a long story, so I won't get into it," Allen replied with a mischievous grin.
"Alright then."
Hela smiled faintly, not pressing further—knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to resist explaining anyway.
Allen froze for a second, then flashed a sly smile and probed, "You really don't want to know? It's a twisted and thrilling tale."
"Nope."
"Hsss…"
Allen sucked in a sharp breath, finally realizing he'd met his match. Desperate, he blurted, "You have to hear it—I'll tell you everything right now!"
"I'm not listening, I'm not listening—"
Hela covered her ears and started muttering nonsense.
"What's with you acting like that? You will listen to me!" Allen was suffering, practically yanking his own hair out.
Meanwhile, the undead army on the ground just stared blankly at their lord.
It was their first time seeing the death goddess acting so playful.
She was usually all majesty and solemnity—just seeing this made their soul flames almost overflow.
"Beg me. Call me 'Mommy,'" Hela said proudly.
"Mommy, I'm begging you." Allen called out without a moment's hesitation.
"…"
Hela hadn't expected him to actually say it and stared at him in disbelief. "I underestimated how shameless you are."
Allen replied solemnly, "Limits exist to be broken."
Fair point—he really was capable of anything.
In Hela's memory, Allen had always been a brazen, thick-skinned scoundrel.
"Alright, tell me then. I'm listening."
She gestured for him to explain how he ended up like this.
Allen stroked his chin, bashfully saying, "Well… how do I put it… it's both simple and complicated. You could say it's complicated, but also kind of simple. If you think it's simple, it's actually really complicated…"
"If you keep spewing nonsense literature, I'll curse you mute," Hela interrupted with a raised eyebrow, her aura of death stirring restlessly.
"A woman confessed to me. I turned her down on the spot. Out of spite, she tossed me into Hell. If she couldn't have me, no one could."
Allen spoke dramatically: "Do you know who I am? I'm the Supreme Combat Corps Commander of the Iron Temporal Dimension Iron Guard, Odwu-Muirvilven-Enyel-Tuwen-Viwunmuben-Ossas! Our motto is: 'Play strings, not hearts!' How could I let petty romance disrupt my rhythm?"
"…"
What kind of title is that?
You shouldn't be called Allen at all.
Hela zeroed in on the important detail. "So it was you who provoked her, and she tossed you into Hell?"
"I did not! Don't spread lies—I'll sue you for defamation!" Allen turned and shouted at the undead below, "Your lady is slandering me! Slandering!"
"Who was it?" Hela ignored his tantrum and got straight to the point.
"Secret Guest."
"Who?"
"Illyana Rasputin."
"Oh, her!"
Recognition flashed in Hela's eyes. "We've met a few times—not well-acquainted, but her story is pretty legendary."
"Ohh!"
Allen's interest was piqued. "My waifu's that awesome? Tell me more!"
"Your wife?"
Hela gave him a sly look. "Didn't you reject her?"
"I just accepted her," Allen replied matter-of-factly, with no trace of shame.
"When she was seven, the Hell Lord Belasco kidnapped her, drawn by her magical potential. He wanted to train her into a powerful sorceress and steal her powers to strengthen himself…"
Halfway through her story, Allen interrupted. "Despicable! Trying to turn my waifu into a cultivation cauldron! Take me to that damn 'Clam Belamisu' and I'll make him vanish with the Iron Guard's Battle Anthem!"
"It's Belasco. He's already dead," Hela added. "He got cocky. Illyana awakened her psychic powers at fifteen and forged a soul-cleaving sword that killed him."
"Good. Serves him right. Otherwise I'd have hit him with a ballad so tragic it'd make him regret ever being born," Allen growled.
By now, they'd arrived at Hela's domain.
Towering black skyscrapers filled the city—like something straight out of a fantasy epic.
Undead of all shapes and sizes inhabited the city, already forming a functioning cycle of life.
Hela, raised in Asgard, had received a refined education. Naturally, she didn't want her territory to resemble a graveyard. Bit by bit, she shaped it into what it was now.
The sentient undead and alchemy-wielding liches played a key role in its construction.
At the center stood the Lord's Castle—a grand palace built in dark green, trimmed with gold. It was both solemn and majestic, radiating power and authority.
Allen gawked. "Asgard?"
"It's modeled after it," Hela said candidly. "I replicated the style. Since I live alone, I scaled it down. Besides, undead aesthetics… are pretty questionable."
They landed smoothly. Allen looked around, clearly impressed. "So grand!"
"Come in. Let's eat and talk."
Inside the great hall, two rows of female undead awaited them.
They wore wedding dresses, with skeletal arms visible through their lace gloves.
"They're zombie brides—not many of them. They often serve as my attendants," Hela explained.
"The Underworld is awesome. Can I come visit more often?"
Then it hit Allen. Something felt off about his wording. He muttered, "Wait, how would I get here again? Kill myself?"
"Don't do anything stupid. If you end up in someone else's territory, I might not be able to pull you out."
The old-school reaper lords of the Underworld could easily beat Odin himself into the ground—Hela wasn't about to start trouble without reason.
"Here. Try some of our local specialty."
She poured him a black drink, bubbling in the cup.
"Dark Cola."
Allen downed it without hesitation—completely unwary.
Hela shook her head with a sigh. Still as careless as ever.
Burp…
Allen burped contentedly.
[Beep! Host has received a dark divine blessing. Soul strength permanently increased by 50%.]
Mmm…
He grabbed the pitcher and started chugging straight from it.
Gulp gulp gulp… He kept pouring it down his throat.
His belly started to visibly swell.
"Ugh… I'm full. Can't drink anymore… bleh…"
Allen rolled his eyes like he was trying not to vomit.
No matter how much he drank, the water never ran out. The pitcher seemed bottomless.
Hela watched it all with a bright smile, never once stopping him. Seeing him suffer only made her grin wider.
She explained sweetly, "That's a spatial flask. It holds the spring source of the River of the Dead—about the size of a river. Also, only the first sip works."
"You could've said so earlier…"
Allen thought he could get more boosts if he drank more. But no matter how much he chugged, the system gave no more rewards. Rubbing his bloated stomach, he whined, "Wicked woman! You made me 'pregnant.' You better take responsibility."
"Just pee it out."
There was a feast laid out before him, but Allen had no appetite. He lay sprawled on Hela's personal recliner, rubbing his belly like he'd lost all will to live.
Hela calmly sampled some unidentifiable meat, looking both amused and exasperated.
"Kelp Sis, what are you doing in the Underworld anyway?" Allen asked curiously.
After all, the goddess of death was Asgard's top warrior, a divine being of destruction. Her role was conquest.
"If I hadn't fled here, I'd probably be rotting in a cage right now," Hela said, setting down her knife and fork. "Odin's too tyrannical. He won't allow anyone to challenge his authority. I'd become a threat to his reign."
In the movies, she was powerful enough to make Odin retreat to Earth.
"That one-eyed geezer let you escape?" Allen asked. Odin should've been in peak form. How could he let Hela not only escape but also build her own realm?
Hela explained calmly, "That's thanks to the Guardians of the Galaxy you formed back then. They broke into Asgard and rescued me. Death also granted me refuge in the Underworld."
Guardians of the Galaxy?
Death?
That was a lot to take in.
What kind of powerhouse team dares to invade Asgard? They must be cosmic-level monsters.
"You mentioned Death… Does that mean Thanos is part of the team too?" Allen's eyes widened.
There are only two people most closely tied to Death herself—
Deadpool, who's always on the brink of dying,
And Thanos, who practically lives in her shadow.
"You'll have to find that out for yourself."
Hela smiled without answering, clearly holding back the truth.
History that's already set in stone can't be changed. If Allen went crazy and tried to interfere, it might alter the entire timeline.
When it comes to causal law, the deeper the involvement, the more dangerous it gets—especially for high-ranking divine beings who can perceive its flow directly.