Chapter 179 to 186

…

Ordinary people would probably faint on the spot if the Hulk glared at them like this.

Leon, however, didn't take it seriously at all and even stared back. The frightened Hulk shrank back, lowered his head in an aggrieved manner, and quietly ate his food.

Though Hulk is filled with rage most of the time, he instinctively resorts to violence only when he feels extremely insecure. Violence is his way of ensuring psychological safety.

But now, with a large group of friends, Hulk has no reason to act out. Moreover, his beastly instincts detect an unprecedented sense of danger emanating from Leon. Hulk is no fool—he knows better than to provoke the big boss.

"Is this the hell you're talking about, the one I'm thinking of?" Natasha asked, her captivating eyes fixed on Leon.

"Uh-huh. Don't you all know about that place called Hell? I even exchanged greetings with the Demon Lord Mephisto himself."

"Although I said hello, my impression of that meeting wasn't exactly great," Pietro muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

On that fateful trip to Texas, Pietro had met some fascinating companions before running into Mephisto. That encounter turned into an earth-shattering battle he would never forget. Mephisto's immense power still haunted his memories, as vivid as if it had happened yesterday.

If not for Leon, he had no idea how they would've survived that terrifying ordeal.

And now, Leon wanted to lead them back to Hell.

"Let's be clear: Hell is chaotic, but beneath all that chaos lies the perfect place for you at this stage," Leon explained with calm confidence.

"Aha. So, we're going to war with a bunch of demons now? Sounds... thrilling. Thanks a lot, Boss Leon," Sergei remarked with a mix of helplessness and sarcasm. He knew better than to defy Leon's will but still couldn't resist a little complaint.

That said, deep down, Sergei was genuinely excited. For someone like him, who thrived on fighting and the pursuit of strength, the prospect of confronting mysterious and powerful demons was exhilarating.

"You're welcome. Trust me, you'll love this trip," Leon said, laughing unreservedly.

Hell seems mysterious at first glance, but in reality, Leon had already uncovered much of its secrets. Using the coordinates Mephisto had given him and the advanced scanning capabilities of the Sky Blade, he had mapped nearly the entire hell dimension. Except for a few areas shielded by mysterious powers, most of Hell wasn't much different from the rest of the universe.

Hell had its own forces, factions, battles, mercenaries, and even taverns issuing tasks. Some tourist areas even had... less reputable establishments. It was both simple and complex, a paradox in its structure.

But one thing was universally clear about Hell: power ruled. Without sufficient strength, you'd be devoured—literally. On the other hand, those with great power could enjoy privileges and opportunities that were unparalleled, even in Hell.

"That's why," Leon said, addressing the group, "before the journey to Hell begins, you all need to strengthen yourselves. Oh, and by the way—Wanda isn't coming with us."

"What?! How am I supposed to survive without Wanda?!" Pietro wailed dramatically.

He wasn't alone; Sergei and the others joined in, loudly voicing their dissatisfaction.

Leon, however, remained unmoved.

As if. Taking Wanda to Hell in her current state would only spell disaster. With her chaos magic and soul so uniquely attuned to otherworldly energies, she'd undoubtedly draw the attention of some of Hell's most powerful demons. To avoid unnecessary trouble, Leon had firmly decided to leave her out of this expedition.

When Wanda heard the news, she felt a pang of disappointment. But as her gaze swept over the group of men loudly bemoaning her absence, a mischievous smile played on her lips.

"Well," she said sweetly, her tone dripping with mock innocence, "I hope I won't have to collect your bodies when this is over."

Her words sent chills through the group. As expected, they all shivered in fear, much to Wanda's delight. She burst into laughter, her melodic voice filling the air.

The beach was alive with laughter, banter, and a sense of camaraderie. After the barbecue and hours of mingling, the group finally disbanded. Sergei, Pietro, and the others, fueled by a sudden sense of urgency, hurried off to prepare for intense training. They knew they had little time to grow stronger before venturing into Hell.

Meanwhile, Leon stood alone on the island's cliff, gazing at the setting sun. The fiery hues of dusk painted the horizon, their reflection dancing in his eyes. Dressed casually in a shirt and shorts, he seemed to be waiting for something—or someone.

He didn't have to wait long.

As the sun dipped below the sea's edge, the world seemed to pause. A vast and overwhelming power filled the air, making the very atmosphere tremble. Time slowed to a crawl—hundreds, perhaps thousands, of times slower than usual.

Yet Leon stood unaffected, fully aware in this altered reality. Slowly, he turned to look behind him.

At some point, an old man had appeared. He was clad in regal attire unlike anything from Earth, his right eye shielded by a golden eyepatch. His white hair glistened in the fading sunlight, and his ruddy face radiated both dignity and an intimidating, unshakable authority. The man carried a spear—ornate and exquisite—in his right hand.

"Just as the Ancient One foretold," the old man said, his deep voice carrying a weight that seemed to echo across dimensions. "Your presence has irreversibly altered the course of this universe's future. Tell me, child, who are you?"

"Odin, King of the Gods," Leon greeted, his tone even.

He didn't elaborate further, but his eyes flickered subtly. A profound, vast power—indescribable yet commanding—suddenly surged from within him, restoring the slowed flow of time to normal.

Odin's single golden eye gleamed with a flash of lightning as he sensed this mysterious and potent force.

A faint smile crossed the All-Father's calm and confident face.

"You are truly remarkable. Even I cannot perceive the full extent of what supports you," Odin said, his voice deep and resonant. "It is unlike any greatness I've encountered before—something entirely different, something... mysterious."

Odin took a step forward, his regal stride carrying him to the cliff's edge. He gazed out over the vast, unending ocean, its surface shimmering in the dying light of dusk.

Leon turned as well, moving to stand beside the All-Father. With a small, wry smile, he said, "Should I feel honored?"

"No," Odin replied, shaking his head faintly. "Perhaps it is I who should feel honored. Yet it is a shame—I lack the time to uncover the mystery behind you."

Odin's voice, deep as thunder, carried the weight of his divine majesty. Yet beneath it, there was an unmistakable undercurrent of weariness.

"Or perhaps," Odin mused, "you are the mystery yourself."

Leon chuckled softly, his expression enigmatic. "Who knows?" he replied, neither confirming nor denying the thought.

The two gods stood side by side in contemplative silence, watching as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. The world grew dimmer, the last vestiges of light fading into the vast sea.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Odin broke the silence.

…

"In my younger days, I would have relished a good fight with you," Odin said, his gaze shifting to Leon as he blinked with a rare, almost mischievous expression. It was an oddly endearing contrast to the composed and dignified king he typically presented himself as.

"It's a shame. I've heard some tales of the God King in his prime," Leon replied softly, his tone tinged with subtle regret. "But I'll never truly grasp the majesty of what you were back then."

The image of Odin in his youth loomed large in Leon's mind. The old man seated before him had once been a fiery, arrogant warrior. His impetuousness and bloodlust had far surpassed that of his son, Thor. And Hela, Odin's firstborn and the fearsome Goddess of Death, who had been sealed away for her ambition and cruelty, was undoubtedly shaped by her father's ferocity.

Back in those days, Odin had been nothing short of a tyrant. Riding his eight-legged steed Sleipnir, wielding Gungnir, and carrying the Eternal Flame, he had razed armies, crushed realms, and slaughtered entire races. It was through such brutality that Asgard had risen to dominate the Nine Realms.

There was a time when Odin donned the Destroyer armor, fearlessly facing off against rival pantheons. Even when battles didn't come to blows, his warlike spirit and unmatched valor had been the stuff of legend.

In the brutal reality of the universe, peace between civilizations was scarce. Intrigue, betrayal, and wars to the death over resources or power were the norm. History was written by the victors, and the losers were often erased.

Odin, too, had rewritten history. Once his ambition waned, he sealed Hela and reshaped his narrative. The blood-soaked murals depicting Asgard's violent rise were replaced with polished depictions of peace and prosperity.

To some, this made Odin a hypocrite—a king who whitewashed his past for the sake of legacy. But to Leon, this was simply reality. On Earth or among the stars, the strong ruled, the weak suffered, and fairness was an illusion.

Leon didn't dwell much on Odin's past. He was wary of the old king, certainly, but there was also a measure of respect and something unspoken in his thoughts.

He understood why Odin had come to him now. The old god's actions were no longer driven by unchecked ambition. In his youth, Odin would have seen someone like Leon—an anomaly capable of altering the sacred timeline—as a threat to be neutralized. He wouldn't have hesitated to kill or imprison him to uncover the source of his power.

But those days were behind him. Age had caught up to Odin, and the immense power he once wielded now weighed too heavily on his aging body. Odin's sleep was no longer a choice but a necessity, a reprieve from the crushing burden of his strength.

The God King knew his time was running out. His life was in its final chapter, and unless Asgard itself faced annihilation, he would no longer unleash his full might. To do so would risk his body failing and sending him prematurely to Valhalla.

Odin had to maintain Asgard's stability until his son, Thor, matured into a worthy king. After all, Odin's violent campaigns in his early years had created countless enemies for himself and his realm. Should he fall before Thor came into his own, those hidden adversaries would undoubtedly seize the opportunity to swarm in and tear Asgard apart.

This was why Odin ultimately decided to meet Leon in person.

Leon understood this well, which was why he wasn't nervous. Even if Odin intended to fight him, he would have to consider Leon's strength and the influence of the Ancient One. The sorcerer, who had long maintained a cordial relationship with Leon—a powerful and mysterious ally—had clearly vouched for him. Aligning with someone like Leon was not a difficult choice for Odin.

As Leon had anticipated, Odin had already made his decision the moment he traveled to Earth and laid eyes on him.

Despite his age and experience, Odin couldn't entirely decipher Leon. There was something about the man that exuded an inexplicable sense of danger. Leon's unique combination of value and threat compelled Odin to choose caution over confrontation.

As the last light of the setting sun faded and darkness blanketed the sky, Odin stood silently, his single eye fixed on the stars that now illuminated the heavens. In one particularly bright star, he seemed to see Asgard itself, and he spoke softly:

"As the Ancient One said, the next Sorcerer Supreme has been chosen..."

"She is a girl of immense talent. Congratulations. I believe that under her leadership, Kamar-Taj will shine even brighter."

Leon nodded. "Thank you. I think this role might suit the son of the God King as well. He is equally remarkable, is he not?"

As expected, Odin followed his words with a sigh. "Thor is indeed the best of my children. But unfortunately, he is still young—too reckless, too proud."

A child over two thousand years old, still considered young.

Leon smirked, his voice laced with dry humor. "For the proud son of heaven, those qualities are to be expected. But what he truly needs is a profoundly transformative stage of growth."

"Yes. Unfortunately, time does not permit him to grow at his own pace. He needs experience, and he needs it quickly."

"I believe Earth will provide him with the lessons he needs," Leon remarked pointedly.

Odin's lips curled into a faint smile, and he nodded knowingly. After a pause, his form began to fade, leaving behind only his words:

"Asgard will always be your ally. I hope that one day, you and those children will visit Asgard as our honored guests."

Leon watched as Odin disappeared, then stretched with a sigh.

"Talking to that old fox is exhausting."

Keisha's voice chimed in his mind. "Captain Leon, during the target detection mission, the King of Asgard, Odin, appears to have knowledge of the Sky Blade."

"How much does he know?"

"He was only aware that Sky Blade has a sufficiently powerful hidden mechanism and that it is capable of interference. However, he couldn't fully comprehend its nature."

"Tsk, that old man is as contradictory as ever. The only way to keep him cautious is to remain mysterious. What about Sky Blade's analysis results on him?"

"The god-level unit that he is, he possess energy comparable to stellar-level power and align closely with the main god-level."

…

"Being the strongest in a single universe is no joke."

Leon had no doubts about the terror Odin could unleash. Though the All-Father now resembled an aging lion, a lion remains a lion. If Odin chose to act, he could still support a war at the scale of a single universe.

Even in his current state, if Odin pushed himself, it wouldn't be impossible for him to engage in combat at that level. The problem lay in his body's inability to endure the energy he wielded. Odin's power was no longer something he could fully control—it grew uncontrollably day by day. After countless years, no one truly knew how much energy the old king now harbored.

And no one wanted to find out.

Within the Nine Realms, many powerful forces dreamt of rebelling against Asgard. Yet, as long as Odin remained alive and watchful, no one dared to rise. Those who did were simply insignificant threats, barely worth mentioning.

Even the Frost Giants, bold as they once were, had only dared to invade because Loki—a traitor from within—had confirmed that Odin had fallen into Odin's Sleep. Without such assurance, not even the Frost Giant King would have dared step foot in Asgard while the All-Father was awake.

Odin was like a ticking time bomb—one with immeasurable destructive power. No one wanted to risk lighting the fuse. Anyone reckless enough to provoke him would not only face annihilation but might even inadvertently give Odin another tale of conquest to add to his legacy.

But Odin's decline was inevitable, and with his downfall, Asgard's strength would wane as well. Too many enemies lurked in the shadows, coveting Asgard's treasures, and Leon couldn't deny that he, too, was envious of what Asgard had to offer.

First, there was the Odinson lineage—the inheritance of Odin's power itself.

Then came the runic magic system, the various treasures in Odin's vault, rare metals, and, most importantly, the dwarves. Leon greatly valued them. These master craftsmen, with their unparalleled heritage and skill, could forge god-level artifacts unlike anything else in the universe.

Artifacts like the eternal spear Gungnir, Thor's hammer Mjolnir, and the Destroyer armor were among their creations—treasures just waiting for someone like Leon to claim.

Leon had long set his sights on Asgard, and now Odin had presented him with the perfect opportunity. It wasn't one he intended to waste.

Recalling his unspoken agreement with Odin, Leon smiled to himself. Soon enough, the thousand-year-old "child" would descend to Earth for his trials.

And Asgard awaited.

As one of the most prominent powers in the universe, Asgard boasts countless grand, interconnected buildings spread across its vast continent. These structures are not only monumental in size but also masterpieces of artistic design. At the heart of Asgard lies the Immortal Palace, a structure so magnificent that it surpasses even the grandeur of the rest of the realm.

Inside the main hall of the palace, Asgardian guards stood solemnly at their posts, an unbroken line of vigilance. The hall was silent, save for the occasional faint rustle of armor, until the sound of footsteps broke the stillness. Odin's figure emerged, his old and weathered face betraying exhaustion despite his stoic demeanor.

Step by heavy step, he ascended the throne's dais. Once seated, he closed his single eye and appeared to fall into a deep, contemplative slumber.

Time seemed to pass unnoticed until soft, gentle footsteps echoed through the hall. A soothing female voice broke the silence, addressing him tenderly.

"How are you, Odin?"

A pair of delicate hands rested on his temples, rubbing them gently in a familiar gesture. Odin did not open his eyes, but his voice carried a heavy sigh.

"I went to see that child."

"You seem troubled."

Frigga, dressed in simple yet elegant garments, spoke softly. As Odin's wife, she knew him better than anyone. She had never seen him in this state—so uncertain, so conflicted.

"I am indeed troubled," Odin admitted, finally opening his eye. "You see, Frigga, the power of Odin tells me that this child is more important than anyone else."

Frigga's expression shifted to one of surprise.

The power of Odin was no ordinary force—it was the very essence of the Odinson lineage. A universal inheritance of unparalleled strength, wisdom, and insight. It had guided Odin, as well as his father and grandfather, to obtain knowledge and abilities far beyond mortal comprehension.

For this power to single out someone in such a manner was unprecedented.

No wonder Odin felt so conflicted.

After a moment of thought, Frigga said softly, "It seems the secrets surrounding him are far greater than we imagined. What do you think of him?"

"He is young, but his wisdom far surpasses his years. He has already seen through my intentions and understands much about the future. He knows more about me and Asgard than he should."

Frigga smiled faintly, her voice tinged with humor. "Ah, so he is a wizard."

As a descendant of witches herself, Frigga understood such individuals well. Wizards and witches are often blessed by the universe with extraordinary talents, deep knowledge, and even glimpses of the future.

Odin allowed a small smile to touch his lips, though it was tinged with regret. "It's a shame this child does not carry the blood of the Odinson family. Compared to him, Thor is still immature."

Despite his words, Odin did not doubt his son's potential.

But great power demands great character. Thor, unfortunately, is too impulsive, proud, and conceited. Though he possesses a mighty bloodline, he lacks the temperament to match it. For Asgard's future, a mature and wise king is needed—not an arrogant and reckless ruler.

Leon, on the other hand, is not even twenty years old, yet he displays a maturity and wisdom far beyond his years. He can engage with Odin as an equal, effortlessly seeing through his intentions and conversing naturally.

In this regard, Thor falls far short of Leon.

"He holds extraordinary significance in this universe," Frigga said softly. "It means that one day, he will become a vital and remarkable figure. I'm truly curious to see what he will be like when that time comes."

She paused before continuing, "But I also believe that Thor will eventually grow into his potential. I wonder if he and Thor might become friends."

"He reminds me of myself," Odin admitted without hesitation. "But unlike me, he seems to have an even clearer understanding of the nature of the universe."

…

"It's really curious. I'm looking forward to meeting him."

"Uh-huh."

Odin didn't respond further. After a moment of silence, his gaze shifted, and he raised his head to look toward the end of the hall.

Frigga seemed to sense something amiss and followed Odin's line of sight.

From their perspective, the grand hall's luxurious decorations faded away, replaced by another vision—another world. That world was the Kingdom of Jotunheim, the land of the Frost Giants.

Historically, during a great battle with Asgard, the Frost Giants were nearly annihilated. Their clan was crippled, and Jotunheim fell under Asgard's rule. To maintain peace, a non-aggression treaty was signed.

But at this very moment, Thor, Loki, Sif, and the three warriors of Asgard were fighting in Jotunheim. They were stirring up chaos and being relentlessly pursued by the Frost Giants.

Odin shook his head at the sight. Though he had foreseen this reckless act long ago, it still filled him with frustration.

"Thor shows no sign of maturity after all these years," Odin said, his tone heavy with disappointment.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Frigga sighed helplessly. "Thor is indeed too impulsive."

"There is no time for him to grow up slowly, Frigga," Odin replied.

He stood, gripping the eternal spear Gungnir, and knocked it firmly against the ground. A flash of lightning illuminated his single eye, and thunder echoed through the hall.

A beam of light enveloped him, and with the rumble of thunder, Odin vanished, leaving Frigga to silently watch her husband depart for Jotunheim. She sighed softly and turned to leave the hall.

In Jotunheim, the land was perpetually harsh and unforgiving. The bitter cold and relentless frost made the world bleak and sunless. Raging winds carried heavy snow, shrouding the land in gloom. Towering glaciers stretched endlessly across dangerous terrain.

Yet, in this merciless environment, the Frost Giants thrived. They were enormous, physically resilient beings immune to the cold and skilled in frost magic.

Their king, Laufey, was a figure of unparalleled power, wielding the Casket of Ancient Winters, an artifact capable of freezing entire planets. Once, Laufey and his people had clashed with Odin's forces in a devastating war for resources and territory.

Countless Asgardian warriors fell in that war. Ultimately, Odin triumphed, claiming the Casket as a trophy and leaving Laufey grievously injured, his power diminished. With Jotunheim under Asgardian rule, the Frost Giants had retreated, nursing their wounds and plotting revenge.

For centuries, no one dared to trespass into their icy realm. But today, a group of Asgardians had crossed the line, reigniting their fury.

On a snow-covered expanse, with thick flakes swirling from the sky, Thor, clad in gleaming armor and a red cape, led his companions in a desperate retreat. With him were his younger brother Loki, Sif, and the three warriors of Asgard.

Behind them, a horde of towering Frost Giants pursued relentlessly. In their icy homeland, the Frost Giants had a natural advantage—they never tired, especially when driven by the prospect of vengeance against Asgardians.

After running for what felt like an eternity, Thor and his companions found themselves at a dead end. They had reached the edge of a towering cliff.

Behind them, the Frost Giants closed in, their enormous frames blocking any escape. Their ferocious eyes glinted with murderous intent, their hands itching to tear the intruders limb from limb and display their severed heads on Jotunheim's icy peaks as trophies of vengeance.

But they held back.

Their king, Laufey, stepped forward. His imposing figure and cold, calculating gaze froze even the most foolhardy Asgardian in place.

Compared to the other towering Frost Giants, Laufey appeared smaller, standing only two meters tall. His dark gray skin seemed to absorb the dim light, and his narrow eyes burned with scarlet pupils that radiated cold malice.

Laufey stood at the forefront of the Frost Giants, his imposing presence commanding silence. He gazed coldly at Thor and the others, surrounded and seemingly out of options. His voice, low and emotionless, echoed across the icy expanse.

"Asgardians, you have violated the agreement. You ignored my warnings and have provoked this war. For that, you will pay the price."

A thunderous roar erupted from the edge of the cliff. From below, a massive Frost Beast leapt into view, its terrifying form cutting off any hope of retreat. The creature's icy breath misted the air as it hungrily eyed the intruders.

Young Thor glanced back at the beast, then turned his gaze to his companions and his visibly uneasy brother. Despite the precarious situation, Thor failed to recognize the gravity of his actions. In his mind, this was merely a minor misstep, one that could be corrected by brute force.

Reckless as ever, Thor raised his hammer, preparing to charge at the Frost Giant King. But before he could act, Loki reached out and grabbed his arm, hissing urgently, "That's enough, Thor! We can't bear the responsibility for starting an ancient war without authorization."

Loki then turned to Laufey, his tone sharp yet diplomatic. "We are willing to accept your forgiveness."

Laufey's expression remained impassive, but his voice carried an edge of disdain. "It is too late. You have trespassed into Jotunheim, violated our agreement, and disregarded my warnings, Asgardians."

Forgiveness was not an option. Even in Jotunheim's weakened state, Laufey could not allow this affront to stand. For the Frost Giants, this was more than an intrusion; it was a humiliation, an open mockery of their honor and sovereignty. Laufey would not let it go unpunished.

With a sweeping motion of his hand, Laufey signaled his warriors forward. The Frost Giants stepped up, their massive forms looming over Thor and his companions, ready to rip them apart.

Realizing there would be no peaceful resolution, Thor and his group abandoned all hope of negotiation. They prepared to fight to the bitter end, their weapons raised in defiance.

But just as the clash seemed inevitable—

Boom!!

From the sky, a brilliant, multicolored beam of light pierced through the thick clouds, crashing into the icy terrain behind Thor and the others. The air crackled with energy as the ground trembled beneath their feet.

A deep, commanding voice resounded across Jotunheim: "Enough!!!"

As the dazzling light faded, Odin emerged. Clad in golden armor, wielding the eternal spear Gungnir, and astride his eight-legged steed Sleipnir, the All-Father's presence was both regal and terrifying. His single eye locked onto Laufey with an intensity that silenced the Frost Giant King's defiance.

…

Odin's arrival silenced the battlefield.

The overwhelming presence of the King of the Gods swept across Jotunheim like a tidal wave, commanding the attention of every being. Countless eyes turned toward him, their gazes filled with a mixture of fear and awe.

Laufey's narrow, scarlet eyes locked onto Odin. His voice was low and menacing as he drawled, "Odin~~~"

Seeing his father's arrival, Thor raised Mjolnir high and exclaimed eagerly, "Father! Let's destroy them together!"

But Odin, astride Sleipnir, glared at his son with piercing intensity and growled, "Shut up."

Thor's excited expression froze instantly. Confusion and disbelief replaced his enthusiasm as he stared at his father, stunned into silence.

Laufey moved without walking. The ice beneath his feet surged, carrying him until he was level with Odin. Standing face-to-face with the All-Father, Laufey's expression was unreadable as he spoke in a low, mocking tone. "Father of the Gods~~~ You look tired."

Odin's weathered face betrayed no emotion. His voice was calm yet firm. "Laufey, let this end here."

"This is a war your son started, Odin!" Laufey retorted sharply.

"Yes," Odin admitted, "but it was the thoughtless act of a boy. Let's not escalate this. You and I can settle it."

"This is no longer a matter of diplomacy," Laufey hissed. "Your son will have what he desires." His tone darkened as he leaned closer, emphasizing the final words: "War... and death."

Odin stared at Laufey in silence, his expression unreadable. Then, he spoke coldly, "So be it."

Laufey smiled faintly, but it was a smile devoid of warmth. The frost magic in his hands coalesced into a deadly ice shard, and with a swift motion, he hurled it toward Odin.

But before the shard could reach its target, thunder flashed in Odin's single eye. He raised Gungnir high, and the spear unleashed a torrent of radiant, multicolored divine light. The power surged forward, striking Laufey with devastating force and sending him hurtling through the air like a cannonball. He smashed into a massive block of ice, crumpling to the ground as he glared at Odin with bitter hatred.

Meanwhile, the Rainbow Bridge activated behind Thor and his companions. The shimmering portal enveloped them, carrying them away from Jotunheim.

Laufey struggled to his feet, watching the colorful light of the Bifrost fade into the sky. His voice was a low murmur, filled with ominous determination. "This is just the beginning, Odin..."

On the Rainbow Bridge in Asgard, Thor turned to his father, his frustration boiling over. "Why did you bring us back?"

Odin's gaze was hard, his voice cutting. "Do you know what you've done? You've started a war."

Thor interrupted sharply, "I was defending my homeland!"

Odin's expression darkened further. "If you can't even protect your friends and companions, what makes you think you can protect this kingdom?"

With a heavy sigh, Odin gestured toward Heimdall, the guardian of the Bifrost, and pulled out the guardian sword Hofund. He handed it to Heimdall and ordered, "Take them to be healed. Now."

Heimdall obeyed without hesitation, escorting Sif and the wounded warriors away. Only Odin and Thor remained on the bridge, tension crackling between them.

Thor, his pride unshaken, raised his head defiantly. "If we are too afraid to act, this kingdom will perish! Frost Giants must learn to fear me as they once feared you!"

Odin's voice turned cold. "That isn't leadership, Thor. It's arrogance and pride. You've forgotten everything I taught you—the patience of a true warrior."

Thor scoffed, shaking his head impatiently. "While you sit back and wait, the Nine Realms laugh at us! The old ways are dead. Asgard is weak, and you refuse to act."

Loki stood off to the side, watching silently as father and son clashed.

Odin's composure finally broke, his voice rising with anger. "You are a vain, greedy, and cruel child!"

Thor's response was immediate, cutting, and defiant. "And you are a foolish old man!"

The words hit Odin like a hammer blow. For a moment, he looked at Thor in disbelief, the weight of his disappointment etched deeply into his face.

Finally, Odin lowered his head, his voice heavy with sadness. "Yes. I was foolish—foolish to believe you were ready."

Loki seized the opportunity, stepping forward with an air of feigned concern. "Father—"

But Odin cut him off with a pointed gesture. He took a deep breath, then turned back to Thor, his voice measured but resolute.

"Thor Odinson," he began, "you have disobeyed the kingdom's laws. Because of your arrogance and recklessness, a peaceful realm and countless innocent lives now face the horrors of war."

Odin's voice trembled, the tension clear as his fury reached its peak. His eternal spear, Gungnir, struck the ground with a resounding crash, unleashing flashes of thunder that illuminated the hall.

Behind Thor, the Rainbow Bridge portal roared to life, its swirling energy lighting up the scene.

Descending the steps with a heavy presence, Odin approached Thor, his anger evident in every step. His voice, cold and commanding, thundered: "Then you are unworthy of your kingdom. You are unworthy of your title."

Without hesitation, Odin reached out and tore Thor's red cloak from his shoulders.

Meeting his son's eyes, he continued, his voice trembling with suppressed pain. "The people you betrayed... they loved you."

The weight of Odin's words silenced Thor. His mouth opened slightly as if to respond, but no words came. His hesitation betrayed the turmoil in his heart—was it guilt? Regret? He could not say.

Odin stepped back, his expression unyielding. After a moment, he turned to face Thor fully again, his voice now filled with divine authority. "Now, I take back your power."

With those words, Thor's hammer, Mjolnir, was summoned by an invisible force, flying out of his hand and into Odin's grasp.

Odin held Mjolnir aloft, continuing his decree. "In the name of my father and his father before him, I, Odin All-Father, banish you."

As he spoke, Thor's armor began to disintegrate, the golden scales peeling away from his body as though rejecting him. Finally, Odin pointed Mjolnir at Thor, unleashing a burst of brilliant golden light.

The divine energy struck Thor like a hammer blow, shattering what remained of his armor and sending him hurtling into the Rainbow Bridge portal. In an instant, Thor was gone.

Loki, standing nearby, looked on in stunned silence. His disbelief was plain, his steps hesitant as he approached the now-quiet portal. His eyes were wide with shock, unable to comprehend what had just unfolded.

Odin, holding Mjolnir firmly, raised it to his lips and whispered, "Whosoever holds this hammer, if they be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor."

As his words echoed through the chamber, mystical runes and patterns began to glow along the surface of the hammer, sealing the enchantment. With a final motion, Odin hurled Mjolnir into the portal, where it vanished into the swirling energy, following Thor.

"Father!" Loki's voice finally broke through the silence, filled with alarm and uncertainty.

"This is the burden he must bear," Odin responded firmly. His expression betrayed no softness, only the weight of a decision that pained him deeply.

Without another word, Odin retrieved Gungnir, his steps deliberate as he turned and left the hall. Loki remained behind, his face shadowed by a swirl of emotions—shock, intrigue, and perhaps something more.

He watched the portal fade, his thoughts a mystery even to himself.

…

At night over the skies of Mexico, a bright, colorful light pierced through the darkness, followed by a figure plummeting rapidly toward the earth.

Unbeknownst to most, only a select few were able to notice the event.

Leon and Wanda were among them.

Wanda, having just finished her training for the day, had returned to the New York Manor. Lazily reclining on the sofa, she was flipping through the Darkhold.

Suddenly, she sensed a peculiar energy entering the world. The strange presence instantly heightened her awareness, stirring the instincts of the Scarlet Witch.

She straightened up instinctively, glancing toward Leon. He sat across the room, legs crossed, focused on his laptop. Without looking up, he seemed wholly unbothered.

"Leon~~" Wanda called softly, her tone laced with curiosity.

Leon barely acknowledged her, replying matter-of-factly. "Asgardians. If you're interested, you can check it out."

"Ooh~~ Asgardians?" Wanda's interest was piqued, but her body remained relaxed. She had no plans to spring into action without good reason.

However, as the realization set in, she shifted slightly and asked, "Why are Asgardians on Earth?"

Leon, still typing on his keyboard, responded without looking up. "It's a test. Part of Odin's plan for the future."

"Odin, the All-Father?"

"Mm-hmm~~" Leon affirmed with a faint nod.

Wanda's curiosity deepened. "Interesting..." she murmured, thinking of Odin's mythical stature. She'd read about the All-Father in books from Kamar-Taj, tales of a being of immense power who ruled over the Nine Realms.

Beyond Odin himself, Wanda found her interest leaning toward Asgardian magic. Their spells and legendary artifacts were said to be extraordinarily powerful, rivaling any mystical force in the universe.

Her excitement rose. "Guess I'll go take a look."

With that, she snapped the Darkhold shut, tucking it neatly into her storage space. With renewed energy, she stood up, a mischievous grin on her face, and made her way upstairs to change.

A short while later, Wanda returned, dressed in stylish, modern attire, her hair neatly pinned up, and sunglasses perched confidently atop her head.

Bounding down the stairs, she threw herself onto the back of Leon's sofa, playfully kissed his cheek, and chirped, "I'm heading out now~~"

"Go ahead. Sergei and the others will probably stop by too," Leon replied, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"Got it. See ya~~" Wanda said cheerfully, opening a portal with a wave of her hand before disappearing through it.

As the portal closed, Leon leaned back, a quiet chuckle escaping him as he returned to his laptop. On the screen, he was deep in conversation with someone on a chat application.

The person on the other end seemed to be a young girl, judging by her chat tone. Not only that, she was a hacker—one with surprisingly decent skills. Leon had discovered her presence when she'd tried to breach his network.

Despite her efforts, she couldn't make it past his firewall.

Leon's network defenses, though casually set up, were leagues ahead of conventional systems. His knowledge of cybersecurity, honed alongside Natasha during their training in the Ural Mountains, combined with his superior intellect, made him one of the world's top computer experts.

Even without the full capabilities of Sky Blade backing him, his network was nearly impenetrable. It was far more secure than even the Pentagon's systems.

The girl had stubbornly tried for days, rallying a group of hacker friends to help, but none had even breached his first line of defense.

Eventually, frustration got the better of her. After hitting wall after wall, the girl turned to social media, finding Leon's account and sending him a friend request.

Amused by her persistence, Leon had accepted. Their chats since had been lively, with her throwing out heaps of technical jargon in a desperate bid to impress him.

However, her tone was humble and full of admiration. Even without seeing her, Leon could easily imagine her sitting with a puffed-up face and a cautious demeanor, speaking as though addressing a great deity.

Leon found it amusing and had no qualms chatting with this persistent little hacker when he was bored.

As for her identity, Leon didn't dig deeper. He simply treated her as a regular netizen—a curious little fangirl, perhaps—and a source of mild entertainment during his downtime.

Meanwhile, in a small town in the state of Mexico, something extraordinary had stirred up a commotion several dozen kilometers away.

A mysterious hammer had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, embedded in the earth and surrounded by a massive crater spanning hundreds of meters. The first person who stumbled upon it tried to pick it up but quickly discovered it was immovable. No matter what method they used, the hammer would not budge.

Curious and determined, the individual posted about the hammer's location and peculiar properties online. The post quickly went viral, sparking widespread intrigue.

Soon, people from nearby towns and cities began flocking to the site, drawn by curiosity and the desire to be the one to lift the mysterious object. However, just like the first person, their attempts—whether through sheer strength, ropes tied to vehicles, or even digging around the hammer—proved futile.

Under the blazing sun, crowds of hopefuls arrived daily, some setting up camp or even grilling food, creating an impromptu festival-like atmosphere. The site quickly gained notoriety, with locals speculating it could become a popular tourist destination.

However, the lively scene came to an abrupt end when a convoy of more than a dozen black Chevrolet SUVs arrived.

The vehicles surrounded the area, and a group of individuals in suits and sunglasses stepped out, presenting badges that identified them as government agents. They began dispersing the crowd, citing FBI authority. While most were disgruntled, they didn't dare challenge these formidable agents.

Within minutes, hundreds of curious onlookers were ushered away. The agents then began setting up a temporary base, complete with equipment, tents, and a cordon that sealed off the area around the hammer.

At the center of the activity, a slightly bald, middle-aged man in a suit and sunglasses stood near the pit, staring intently at the mysterious hammer. Holding a phone to his ear, he made a call.

"Director!" he said sharply.

"Coulson," the voice on the other end replied.

"We've arrived and are ready to begin testing."

"Coulson, we've detected a significant amount of anomalous energy in the area," the Director said. "I'll be sending reinforcements to assist you. In addition to uncovering the origins of that hammer, you'll need to keep an eye out for strangers."

"You're suggesting this might not be of Earthly origin?" Coulson asked, his tone serious.

"You and I both know the truth. Alien visitors are no longer a novelty," the Director replied.

"Understood," Coulson responded, his voice calm but firm.

With that, the call ended, leaving Coulson staring down at the hammer, his thoughts racing as the team around him prepared for whatever came next.

…

"Damn it!"

In a small town in the scorching heat of Mexico, Thor—clad in a hospital-issued gown—ran into the street, his expression a mix of confusion and rage. The streets, the houses, and the Midgardians who stared at him as if he were some madman felt alien to him.

Thor cursed under his breath, his frustration boiling over. Ever since he had been expelled to Midgard, everything had gone wrong. He had been knocked unconscious by a strange metal contraption, only to wake up in what the locals referred to as a mental hospital. There, they had restrained him, treating him like a dangerous lunatic. It had taken all his strength and cunning to escape.

Now standing in the open, Thor realized the full extent of his father's anger. Odin had not only banished him to this unfamiliar realm but had also stripped him of his divine power. He was mortal now.

Rage burned within him, consuming every thought. He raised his face to the sky and roared, "Father! I did nothing wrong! Why do you treat me like this? You're just a stubborn, foolish old man!"

His outburst drew the attention of the townsfolk. They stopped to gawk, some pointing fingers, while others pulled out their phones, presumably to call the authorities.

Once the fire of his rage subsided, Thor's shoulders slumped in despair. Anger wouldn't change his fate. He knew this deep down. As he surveyed the gathering crowd, a growing unease began to gnaw at him. Realizing the danger of staying put, he turned and broke into a run, weaving aimlessly through the streets.

He didn't know where he was going—he just ran.

After some time, the aroma of food wafted from a nearby restaurant, halting him in his tracks. His stomach growled, a sensation he had rarely experienced in Asgard. Hunger clawed at him, and for the first time, he felt the frailty of mortal life.

Thor approached the restaurant, intent on entering, but the screech of tires drew his attention. An RV pulled into a nearby parking space, its door swinging open. Out stepped two women and an older man, who immediately turned their attention to Thor.

Thor stared back, confused but wary. One of the women, with light brown hair and a kind but exasperated face, seemed to notice his hospital attire. She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Great. Did you escape from the hospital?"

"Why are you even wearing that?" the older man asked, his tone sharp with suspicion. "You look like you belong in an institution."

The second woman, dark-haired and busty, stepped forward, her gaze roving over Thor's muscular frame with a smirk. She reached out and playfully tapped his bicep. "I didn't get a good look at you that night, but now? Wow, you've got a great build."

"And he's handsome too," she added with a wink. "Jane, we're really lucky."

"Darcy!" Jane snapped, shooting her friend a helpless look. "Focus!"

The older man crossed his arms, his frown deepening. "Look, maybe we should call someone. He doesn't seem… stable."

Thor's confusion gave way to indignation. Straightening his posture, he glared at them. "Hey, Midgardians! Do you know who you're speaking to?"

"Um, who?" The old man furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Are you… the president's son or something?"

Thor, standing tall and proud, declared, "I am Thor Odinson, son of Odin, the All-Father, ruler of Asgard and father of the gods."

Darcy's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Wow, that's a pretty cool title. I bet you'd rank first on some celebrity ranking site!" she teased, clearly smitten.

Jane let out a weary sigh. Earlier that evening, she had taken her mentor and best friend on a drive in the RV to capture images of a rare astronomical event. On their way back, they had nearly hit this mysterious man. And now? Jane couldn't shake the feeling that she might have accidentally given him a head injury.

A loud growl from Thor's stomach broke the tension.

"Are you hungry?" Jane asked tentatively. "Let me treat you to something to eat."

"Thanks," Thor replied without hesitation. Politeness wasn't exactly his strong suit, but the idea of food was too enticing to resist. He immediately turned toward the restaurant, only to have Jane stop him with a raised hand.

He blinked at her in confusion. "What is the meaning of this, mortal?"

Jane pointed at his hospital gown. "Uh… you're wearing, well, that. I don't think they'll let you in dressed like that."

Without waiting for a response, she grabbed his arm. "Come on, let's find you something more appropriate to wear." She guided him toward the RV, leaving Darcy and the old man standing behind.

Darcy nudged the older man and whispered, "Don't you think Jane's acting a little different with this guy?"

The old man frowned. "This man's origins are a mystery. We need to stay cautious, Darcy."

Though she knew the doctor had good intentions, Darcy's gaze remained on Thor, now climbing into the RV. Someone that handsome? she thought. He couldn't possibly be a bad guy… probably… maybe… definitely not!

A short while later, Thor emerged from the RV wearing a fresh outfit. He now sported a snug T-shirt, jeans, and shoes. The clothes strained slightly over his muscular frame, showcasing his chiseled physique.

Darcy's jaw nearly dropped. "Wow… you're even more handsome now!" she gushed.

Jane walked over, her tone slightly exasperated. "Good thing there was a spare outfit in the car. You're lucky." She gestured toward the restaurant. "Let's go eat."

Under Jane's guidance, the group made their way into the small-town diner. It was modest in size, with only six or seven tables, but it wasn't crowded; a few seats remained open. Thor scanned the room with a warrior's intuition, his gaze locking onto a corner table.

Seated there were three people: two tall, handsome men and a woman whose beauty and elegance seemed to rival that of an Asgardian. They noticed Thor's lingering gaze and exchanged knowing glances before nodding at him.

Thor's eyes narrowed slightly. He nodded back before Jane tugged him to their chosen table. The old man, still wary, observed Thor closely. His earlier behavior had piqued his curiosity.

As Jane and Darcy busied themselves ordering food, the doctor leaned toward Thor and asked quietly, "So… Thor, what were you looking at just now?"

"I didn't expect to meet some very nice people in Midgard," Thor said with a trace of excitement in his voice.

"Midgard?" The doctor's brows furrowed deeply. The man before him seemed stranger by the minute. From his odd manner of speaking to his regal demeanor, everything about him felt... off. Yet, the doctor couldn't quite put his finger on why.

Thor, oblivious to the doctor's scrutiny, continued with sincerity, "Yes, this is your realm. It is called Midgard. It is one of the nine worlds under Asgard's rule. I came here centuries ago and was worshipped as a god by your ancestors."

The doctor's eyes widened slightly. "Well... Thor... Thor Odinson is indeed a god in our mythology," he murmured, his tone cautious, as if trying to process what he was hearing.

…

Darcy and the old man still looked bewildered.

Jane smiled awkwardly. She felt helpless, unsure if the handsome stranger truly had a mental issue or if he was responsible for the strange events unfolding. Regardless, Jane wasn't the type to shirk responsibility. If someone caused trouble, she believed it was her duty to address it.

Thor, however, paid no attention to the trio's disbelief. In his mind, mortals were always ignorant—it was simply their nature.

The meal was served quickly, a selection of simple yet flavorful dishes typical of Mexico. While not particularly fancy, the food had a unique charm. After finishing, Thor downed a large glass of beer in one gulp. The taste left him deeply satisfied. Lost in thought about his life in Asgard, he grabbed the empty glass and smashed it on the ground.

Bang!

"Another!" Thor declared loudly.

The shattering glass and his booming voice immediately drew the attention of the clerk and other restaurant patrons.

"What is wrong with you?" Jane hissed incredulously, lowering her voice to avoid a scene. She offered a forced smile to the onlookers before turning back to Thor.

Thor looked at her, puzzled. "I am expressing my satisfaction. It is a gesture of appreciation."

"Well, we don't do that here!" Jane snapped. "If you break something, you have to pay for it!"

"My sincerest apologies," Thor said, his tone slightly sheepish.

The clerk, visibly annoyed but not wanting to escalate the situation, replied, "Forget it. Just don't let it happen again."

Jane, exasperated, took the opportunity to explain modern Earth customs to Thor. She wasn't sure if he was truly delusional or simply confused, but to her surprise, her words seemed to get through. While he still referred to himself as the "son of Odin," he appeared to grasp the idea of acting more appropriately.

This small victory gave Jane a surprising sense of relief.

After the meal, Jane hurriedly paid the bill and covered the cost of the damage. She then ushered Thor out of the restaurant and into the RV, driving back to her studio and residence.

The house, which she shared with the doctor, was spacious yet modestly priced. As an astronomer, Jane's salary was relatively comfortable, but the lifestyle of scientists often came with its quirks. Papers, books, and research notes were scattered everywhere. Tables were cluttered, and clothes lay in random piles, creating an undeniable mess.

Jane blushed in embarrassment at the sight of the chaos. She quickly stepped forward, motioning for Darcy to help as they both began tidying up in a flurry of activity.

Thor spent an entire day on Earth, navigating the world of mortals.

During the day, Dr. Erik Selvig—who didn't seem to trust Thor much—spent time chatting with him. Thor shared stories of the Nine Realms and Asgard. His explanations, though fantastical, were remarkably coherent and logical, making Selvig question his initial skepticism.

After all, a truly delusional person wouldn't be able to construct such a complete and self-consistent narrative. Thor spoke of Asgard's dominion over the Nine Realms, the World Tree that connected them, and the Rainbow Bridge that served as a portal. He even recounted how Odin had exiled him. For a brief moment, Selvig almost believed him.

Selvig, an experienced and perceptive man, had a knack for reading people. Thor's demeanor—the pride and arrogance ingrained in his very being, coupled with an undeniable sincerity toward those he considered friends—was too authentic to dismiss. If Thor wasn't genuinely who he claimed to be, then he must have been either an Oscar-worthy actor or a master of psychological manipulation.

Selvig couldn't reconcile such depth of character with the idea of Thor being merely delusional. If Thor was lying, why? What purpose would deceiving him and Jane serve?

His questions found some answers that evening.

The Mexican town, quiet and serene at night, lay under a canopy of clear skies and brilliant stars. The house where they stayed was on the outskirts, adding to the tranquility. Jane, Darcy, and Selvig decided to make the evening special by having a barbecue in the backyard.

Thor, intrigued by the idea, joined them enthusiastically. Outdoor feasts were not foreign to him. During his campaigns across the Nine Realms, he and his companions often hunted and roasted their meals under the open sky. Though less refined than Earthly barbecues—with no special grills or seasonings—those meals carried the same camaraderie.

The spread included fried beef and lamb chops, barbecue, fruit salad, and plenty of beer. Thor's face lit up with joy at the feast. His rugged handsomeness and heroic aura stood out as he shared bits of wisdom that left the others in awe. Some of these insights, learned from his mother, Frigga, and father, Odin, struck Jane and Darcy as unexpectedly profound.

The evening grew more lively as the group bonded over food and drink. Jane, seated with Darcy, sat across from Thor and Selvig. They all held their beers high, toasting and laughing. Under Thor's influence, everyone drank with more enthusiasm, even Jane, who wasn't much of a drinker. She took a large gulp from a massive beer glass, over 700 milliliters, and her cheeks turned rosy from the alcohol. Relaxed and slightly tipsy, Jane became more talkative, her usual guarded demeanor giving way to a cheerful warmth.

But just as the mood reached its peak, an uninvited guest appeared, shattering the harmony.

"Thor, why did your father exile you to Earth?"

Jane asked with great curiosity, leaning forward slightly. Dr. Selvig, equally intrigued, turned his attention to Thor as well. During their conversations earlier, Thor had only touched on the subject briefly.

Even though Selvig still wasn't convinced Thor was the figure of legend, he figured it wouldn't hurt to listen—it could at least make for a good story.

Thor fell silent for a moment, his expression briefly clouded with emotion. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could answer, a deep, magnetic voice interrupted him.

"Because of differing philosophies."

The sudden intrusion startled them all. The four of them immediately stood, their eyes darting toward the source of the voice. There, on the lawn not far from their table, stood a man who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

Under the faint glow of the lights, his features came into view: he was tall, impeccably dressed in a deep purple suit, with a strikingly handsome yet unnervingly pale face. His eyes shimmered with an almost hypnotic allure, as if they held some kind of unspoken power.

Dr. Selvig stepped forward, his expression hardening. Despite his usual mild demeanor, he was ready to defend their space.

"Listen, kid," Selvig said sharply, "if I were you, I'd get off my lawn right now."

He wasn't bluffing—trespassing laws in the area heavily favored property owners. If push came to shove, Selvig could deal with the intruder and still be well within his rights.

The man, however, showed no signs of intimidation. With a slow, deliberate stride, he walked closer to the group, completely unfazed by the tension in the air. His movements were calm, almost too confident, as if he had nothing to fear.

…

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