New Mexico, Astronomical Observatory.
An awkward silence filled the living room. Sif, Volstagg, Fandral, and the others sat side by side on the velvet sofa.
Their magnificent armor still gleamed in the dim light—but it couldn't conceal their four swollen, bruised faces, barely recognizable beneath the swelling: seven parts familiar, three parts guesswork.
Jane Foster, Erik Selvig, and Daisy stood in the doorway, peering into the room.
Daisy glanced at Jane, who was glaring at Sif through gritted teeth, and instantly adopted a "not afraid to attend my own funeral" expression. With a teasing lilt, she said:
"Hey~ To be honest, I'm just a casual observer. I think that woman in there and Thor are actually a good match~"
She's beautiful and elegant—tall, well-proportioned, with an outstanding temperament—and best of all, she's not exactly the sharpest Asgardian in the armory! The kind of girl who could get away with anything eight times in one night.
Unlike a certain brilliant astronomer—intelligent, academically accomplished… and sporting an A-cup bra size~
"Jane, you said—"
Crunch.
Sure enough, before Daisy could finish, the sound of grinding teeth cut her off—followed by a strange, hollow chuckle.
She turned to see Selvig staring into the living room with a heartbroken expression, murmuring:
"Hehehe…"
Inside, Sif leaned forward, her voice low and urgent:
"Thor, Asgard is undergoing a great transformation."
"Just recently, His Majesty Odin fell into the Odinsleep—the first time in a thousand years that he has entered a non-periodic slumber."
She paused, noting the tension stiffening Thor's shoulders at the mention of his father, then continued:
"On the seventh sunset after your exile, Loki appeared in the Golden Hall, holding Gungnir, and declared himself Regent of Asgard. He announced a peace accord with the Frost Giants of Jotunheim."
Fandral couldn't stay silent. His fingers drifted to the hilt of his sword as he interjected:
"But Loki's so-called 'peace agreement' came with a condition: your permanent exile!"
Hogun added in a low growl:
"We couldn't stand by while Loki seized power. We begged Heimdall for aid—to bypass Loki's blockade and reach Midgard, so you could return and reclaim your throne."
"We firmly believe the throne of Asgard belongs to Thor Odinson—and no one else!"
Thor turned slowly, his expression unnervingly calm—a serenity his friends had never seen before.
"Thank you, my friends," he said, his voice steady.
"But… my banishment has not been lifted. I will not return to Asgard until Father himself withdraws it."
Volstagg surged to his feet, his axe thudding against the coffee table.
"But Loki—!"
"Volstagg."
Thor's voice was soft—yet it silenced the warrior instantly.
He stepped past his companions, meeting each of their gazes in turn.
"Do not fear. Mother has not been enchanted, and Loki will not harm her."
"Asgard cannot remain without a ruler. Father sleeps. I am exiled. In such a time, it is not wrong for Loki to assume the throne temporarily."
"Besides… he has always been the clever one. More suited to politics than I. And… perhaps more fit to be king."
Sif's eyes widened in disbelief. "But he—"
Thor raised a hand, halting the protests before they began.
"I know what you wish to say. But ruling a realm is far harder than swinging Mjolnir in battle. Loki knows how to weigh choices. I… am just a warrior."
"And now," he added quietly, "I am only a mortal—stripped of divine power."
"Then take it back!" Volstagg burst out, arms flailing. "We'll help you reclaim your hammer! Once Mjolnir acknowledges you—"
Thor shook his head, sorrow shadowing his eyes.
"It's no use. I can no longer lift Mjolnir."
"You're impotent—!?" ×4
"…"
———————
Meanwhile, a convoy of black SUVs and SHIELD technical vehicles rolled like steel behemoths onto the crash site of Thor's hammer.
Tires crunched over charred sand as they formed a tight perimeter around the still-smoking impact crater—a glassy pit radiating unnatural heat.
"Establish a security cordon and activate Level 4 lockdown protocol," Coulson ordered into his headset, his voice cutting cleanly through the desert wind.
He wore standard field gear—yet his tie remained perfectly knotted at the collar, as if he might step onto a podium at any moment.
At the crater's edge, Agent Sitwell directed technicians deploying monitoring equipment.
"Deploy the multispectral scanner to Zone Seven. I need full crystallographic and spectral analysis."
Special forces erected barriers; the yellow-and-black "SHIELD – CONTROLLED AREA" signs stood stark against the sun-bleached dunes.
Technicians assembled a mobile lab, their hazard suits glinting under portable floodlights.
"Geiger counter reads 3.7 microsieverts—well within safe parameters," one reported, the device ticking rhythmically in his hand.
Crouched at the rim, Coulson peered into the crater and muttered:
"The vitrified morphology suggests instantaneous temperatures above 3,000°C… yet there's zero thermal diffusion in the surrounding strata. That's impossible."
Sitwell approached, a data panel scrolling with live readouts.
"Sir, preliminary scans show the object emits non-standard energy signatures and exhibits a quantum-locked molecular structure."
Behind them, a heavy crane lowered a shielded research module into position. Scientists in full protective gear used laser rangefinders to map the crater, each measurement fed instantly to the command vehicle.
Coulson rose, surveying the rapidly expanding SHIELD encampment.
"Understood. Deploy the investigation team immediately. The rest of you—set up an electromagnetic barrier."
"Tune it to Tesla-level frequency. I want zero signal leakage—inside or out."
The tech team sprang into action. Six three-meter transmitters hummed to life around the pit, their fields weaving an invisible cage.
A faint tang of ozone hung in the air.
"Sir! Energy readings stable at approximately 10¹⁵ electron volts—but there's no radiation leakage?!" a technician called out, incredulous.
Coulson opened his mouth to respond—
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Alarms blared.
Sitwell's eyes snapped to his monitor.
"Sir—anomalous energy surge detected northwest of the
site!"
Without looking up, Coulson issued rapid orders:
"Dispatch Drone Teams One and Two for recon. All personnel: high alert."
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