For someone like Hawkeye, facing the Destroyer was nothing short of a dimensional mismatch.
Against such a being, all of his attacks might as well have been mosquito bites.
Yet even knowing that, Clint Barton didn't retreat. He didn't run, didn't hide behind reason or self-preservation.
Instead, he raised his bow again — eyes sharp, breathing steady — and kept firing.
Arrow after arrow cut through the air, his precision and speed so astounding that even Thor and the Asgardians were taken aback.
Had this been anywhere but Midgard, they might've thought he was some long-forgotten god of the hunt.
Sif didn't stay stunned for long.
The moment Hawkeye began his barrage to draw the Destroyer's attention, she darted in, sword flashing as she aimed for a weak spot near its flank.
But her strike didn't even scratch it — the blade shattered upon contact.
Just as Thor had said, the Destroyer's entire body was forged from Uru metal by the Dwarf King of Nidavellir. No known substance in the universe could destroy it.
Hawkeye and Sif's combined efforts were utterly useless.
Even the sharp-eyed archer who'd astonished Thor and his companions soon found his quiver empty.
His hand groped behind him instinctively — only to grasp air.
Not a single arrow left.
The Destroyer, seemingly annoyed by what amounted to little more than an insect's irritation, slowly turned its head in an unnatural, mechanical motion.
Then, with a grinding sound of metal plates shifting, its face split open in layers.
Thor, Sif, Coulson, and the others could see inside.
Nothing. Just hollow armor.
Exactly as Senju Haruto had said — it was never a living being, but a suit of divine armor forged by Odin himself to be worn in battle against the Celestials.
There was no heart, no mind, no "inside."
Its energy — the reason it could unleash that world-melting beam — came from the combined divine power of countless gods who had once poured their strength into it.
A blinding red glow filled the entire temporary research site, the heat so intense it seemed to set the air ablaze.
Hawkeye's scalp tingled. The Destroyer's head was aimed straight at him.
"Damn it—"
He didn't hesitate. His hand slammed against the railing, and he vaulted off the watchtower without a second thought.
The blazing beam tore through the space he'd just vacated, obliterating the tower behind him in an instant.
BOOM!
Hawkeye hit the ground hard, rolling several times to absorb the impact. His shoulder throbbed, his lungs burned — but he was alive.
He turned back to look at the molten crater where he'd been standing just seconds ago, cold sweat dripping down his face.
If he'd hesitated even for a heartbeat, he would've been nothing more than a puddle of melted flesh.
Most people would've taken that as a sign to run — and many already had.
Across the site, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were retreating in panic, some without even trying to hide it.
And who could blame them? They were only human.
This was a god's weapon — a divine weapon. It wasn't even a battle; it was an execution.
How could mortals possibly stand against that?
But Hawkeye didn't retreat.
Instead, he picked up his bow and sprinted straight toward the Destroyer.
Without arrows, he swung the bow like a staff — not much, but better than nothing.
"Goddamn it," he muttered between clenched teeth. "I'm definitely going to regret this."
Even as he cursed himself, there wasn't an ounce of fear in his eyes.
Senju Haruto watched him quietly, taking it all in.
He had to admit — people like Hawkeye didn't become heroes because of power, or technology, or fate.
They became heroes because of heart.
Even knowing they stood no chance —
Even knowing death might be certain —
They still stepped forward.
They stood between the helpless and the unstoppable, and said, "If someone's going to get hurt, it'll be me first."
And even though, most of the time, heroes couldn't save everyone — they still tried.
Haruto's expression softened slightly.
"Come to think of it," he murmured to himself, "there's a line from an old anime that fits perfectly here."
He remembered it vividly — a simple, earnest character, just an ordinary man who faced monsters hundreds of times stronger than himself, yet always stood his ground.
It wasn't about winning or losing.
It was about standing up and saying — I have to be the one to face you.
Many mocked that character for being weak, saying he'd be dead without the protagonist around.
But Haruto thought differently.
If someone didn't even possess the heart of a hero… how could they ever be one?
The so-called "Hero Association" was filled with ambition, greed, and politics — but a true hero was something much rarer.
"Haruto."
Coulson's voice snapped him from his thoughts.
Haruto turned to see the agent staring at him, eyes filled with desperate hope.
To Coulson, there was only one person on Earth right now who could stop the Destroyer.
The Supreme Sorcerer.
But Haruto only shook his head.
"This is Thor's trial," he said quietly.
In the original flow of fate, it was the appearance of the Destroyer that awakened Thor's true divinity — his worthiness.
Yes, Haruto could intervene. He could destroy it here and now.
But if he did, Thor might never regain his power — never become who he was meant to be.
Besides, the Destroyer hadn't killed anyone yet.
If it did, then he'd step in.
Until then, this was Thor's moment.
Coulson, still bewildered, turned back toward Thor.
"So… you're saying Loki's behind this?"
"I didn't say that," Haruto replied dryly, rolling his eyes.
But there was no denying it — the Destroyer's strength was overwhelming.
Sif and the Warriors Three were beaten down one after another. Even Hawkeye, who had charged in with every ounce of courage he had, was swiftly knocked aside.
The battle was hopelessly one-sided.
Jane Foster and Erik Selvig stood trembling, powerless, unsure of what to do.
And then — Thor moved.
Something inside him seemed to click into place.
He took a slow, deep breath, lowering his hands at his sides as he stepped forward.
Jane and Erik instinctively tried to stop him, but he shook his head.
"Leave this to me," he said softly. "Loki wants me. This has nothing to do with you."
He wanted to keep them safe — even if it meant facing death alone.
The Destroyer paused, as if sensing his intent.
"Enough, Loki!" Thor shouted, lifting his head toward the heavens. He knew Loki could hear him, even from Asgard.
But the only answer he received—
SMASH!
—was the Destroyer's massive hand backhanding him straight through the air.