Meanwhile, in a dim and empty bedchamber.
Hela curled up on the bed, her body writhing, convulsing, and twisting with piercing, bone-chilling pain, as dense cold sweat seeped out, soaking through her robe and the bed beneath, like a beached fish on the sand, no longer possessing the valor to battle two at once as before.
This was the price to pay for commanding the Netherworld.
Through the vanity mirror in front of the bed, Hela saw that the skin and flesh on one side of her body were becoming transparent, exposing the stark white bones within. Panic-stricken, she quickly marshalled the vitality within her body to wildly suppress the uncontrollable death energy.
As life force and death energy clashed inside her, a heartrending pain surged like an avalanche and tsunami, as if it were scraping off her flesh piece by piece, grinding her bones segment by segment, and even pulverizing her spirit inch by inch.
