Contrary to its ruined and weather-beaten exterior, the interior of the castle was astonishingly clean.
What once should have been damp stone corridors and forgotten dungeons had been completely transformed. Several underground cells had been hollowed out and rebuilt, their ancient walls reinforced with alloy frames and layered energy conduits. Holographic displays hovered above long tables, streams of data flowing silently through the air. This forgotten stronghold had become the nerve center—the future hub of the entire operation.
The moment they entered the main operations room, Anastasia hurried forward to greet them.
She moved quickly despite her formal attire, her boots clicking against the reinforced floor. Her expression was tense, jaw set, clearly burdened by the weight of responsibility that had been placed on her shoulders. Dark circles shadowed her eyes—evidence of sleepless nights spent coordinating their forces.
"I'm extremely sorry to trouble you, sir," she said, bowing slightly with military precision. Her voice carried the exhaustion she tried to hide. "But we truly need your help with this matter."
Without waiting for a response, she gestured toward the large tactical map projected above the central table. The holographic display flickered to life at her touch, expanding to fill the space above them. Red zones, blue markers, strategic positions—all laid bare in glowing light.
"We had little difficulty dealing with the rebels," she continued, her tone shifting to something more professional, almost detached. "Most of them were already exhausted by the long war. Years of conflict had drained their resources, broken their spirits. Many surrendered without even fighting. Some even seemed relieved when we arrived."
She manipulated the display, showing captured zones turning from red to green.
"With their cooperation, suppressing the remaining resistance was… simple. Almost disappointingly so."
Her finger stopped at a specific location, a marked area glowing ominously red against the otherwise secure map. The marker pulsed like a warning beacon.
"But this," she said, her voice lowering, hardening, "is different."
She zoomed in on the map with a gesture. The red zone expanded, revealing satellite imagery of a facility built into a mountainside. Concrete bunkers, guard towers, what appeared to be underground levels extending deep into bedrock.
"This is a U.S. base." She paused, letting that sink in. "Officially, they claim it doesn't exist. Off the books, black budget, no paper trail. They even call themselves S.H.I.E.L.D.—Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."
Her lip curled slightly in disdain.
"But I don't believe there's any real difference between them and any other intelligence agency. Just a fancier name and better toys."
She pulled up another layer of data—intercepted communications, financial trails that led nowhere, personnel files with heavy redactions.
"According to our intelligence," she continued, her voice dropping to something colder, more dangerous, "this should be a HYDRA base."
She looked up at him directly, meeting his eyes.
"Standard military tactics won't work here. They have enhanced security, possible superhuman assets, and technology we can't fully account for. If we send conventional troops..."
She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to.
He nodded slowly, processing the information.
"Alright." His voice was quiet but carried absolute authority. "Wanda will handle this."
At his words, a young woman stepped forward from where she'd been standing silently near the wall.
"This is Wanda Maximoff," he said calmly, gesturing toward her with an almost casual air. "She'll be responsible for this mission. Give her every detail you have—floor plans, guard rotations, any intelligence on their enhanced assets. Everything."
Anastasia looked at Wanda with unconcealed curiosity, her analytical mind already assessing this new variable.
"Is she… superpowered?" Anastasia asked carefully. "Like you?"
"Yes," he replied simply, offering no further explanation. "Don't worry. She'll take care of it."
The confidence in his voice left no room for doubt.
He paused, then asked, "And is Dr. Banner doing okay?"
"Yes. After a few days of adjustment, he opened a small clinic in the eastern district. He's treating civilians now. Mostly children and elderly who can't afford proper medical care."
"Then we should let him be."
He turned to leave, his business here concluded.
"Good luck with the mission," he said to Wanda. "I have something else to deal with."
As he walked away, footsteps echoing in the converted dungeon, he added over his shoulder without looking back, "You can call Leo if you think you need assistance. He needs combat experience."
Chaos magic alone was already absurdly powerful. Reality-bending, physics-defying, the kind of ability that made conventional weapons seem like children's toys.
Even just after awakening, Wanda could be considered among the highest combat powers on Earth. Top ten easily. Top five if she pushed herself.
Before, without guidance or training, she had simply hurled raw energy at her enemies, hoping sheer overwhelming force would be enough to win. Crude, inefficient, but devastatingly effective against most opposition.
But under his instruction over the past few weeks, everything had changed.
While she couldn't yet reshape reality itself—that level of mastery would take years, perhaps decades—her control over chaos energy had reached an entirely new level. She could weave complex shields, create precision strikes, manipulate probability fields around specific targets. Combined with her massive chakra reserves that seemed bottomless, she could wield her power effortlessly for extended periods without exhaustion.
Against ordinary enemies, even enhanced ones, it was more than enough.
And combat—real, dangerous, life-or-death combat—was the fastest way for her to grow stronger. Theory and training could only take someone so far.
"Aline," he said quietly into his communicator, his voice carrying only far enough to be picked up by the device, "don't let any messages escape from this place. Total communications blackout. And keep an eye on Wanda during the mission."
The AI's response came immediately through his earpiece. "Understood. Remote monitoring protocols engaged."
If possible, he would have handled this personally. HYDRA bases required a certain level of... thoroughness.
But just four hours earlier, Aline had detected a massive energy signature. The readings had been off the charts, the kind of power output that didn't exist naturally on Earth. And the trajectory analysis had been clear: it had originated from beyond Earth itself. From space.
He had thought long and hard, searching through his memories of the timeline, trying to recall any similar incident that should be happening around this time.
Then it clicked.
Thor.
Thor should be arriving soon.
But if he remembered correctly from the original timeline, it was supposed to be in Mexico.
"…That's strange."
He pulled up Aline's tracking data on his personal display. The energy signature had landed approximately in north.
After a moment of consideration, he decided to investigate this anomaly first.
Thor was, after all, a potential ally. Or a potential problem. Either way, better to make contact early.
Meanwhile, in Asgard...
"Do you even understand what you've done, you foolish child?"
The voice thundered through the golden hall of Asgard's throne room, each word carrying the weight of divine authority. The very walls seemed to tremble, ancient runes flickering in response to the All-Father's anger.
Odin stood there, Gungnir held in his hand, his single eye blazing with disappointment and barely restrained fury. Around them, the other Asgardians who had witnessed Thor's reckless assault on Jotunheim stood in uncomfortable silence.
"You are vain. Greedy. Blinded by your own arrogance," Odin continued, his voice rising. "You have violated the treaty. Brought us to the brink of war with the Frost Giants. Endangered countless lives for nothing but your wounded pride!"
"And you," Thor shot back without hesitation, his own eyes blazing with defiant fire, fists clenched at his sides, "are nothing but an old fool who would rather hide behind ancient treaties than take action! Laufey attacked us—invaded Asgard itself during my coronation! And you would do nothing?!"
The room fell into silence.
Even the eternal flames in the braziers seemed to dim.
Then—
"I was a fool," Odin's voice continued, but now it carried something worse than anger. Disappointment. Deep, crushing disappointment. "A fool to believe you were ready. Ready for the throne, ready for the responsibility, ready to be king."
The air trembled with building power.
"As King of Asgard…" Odin rose slowly from the throne, his full divine presence manifesting. "As your father…"
A power like the weight of the cosmos itself pressed down upon Thor. The gravity in the room seemed to multiply, forcing even the Warriors Three to their knees.
"You are unworthy."
The words echoed endlessly through the hall, through the palace, perhaps through all of Asgard itself.
"Unworthy of these realms. Unworthy of your title. Unworthy of the loved ones you have betrayed with your reckless actions."
Thor's eyes widened in shock and dawning horror.
A blinding light erupted from Mjolnir as Odin's magic took hold.
"I now take from you your power," Odin declared, his voice carrying the weight of absolute royal authority. "In the name of my father Bor… and his father before him… I hereby strip you of your divine strength, your immortality, your connection to the Odinforce itself."
Thor's armor began to fade, his red cape dissolving into motes of light.
"Whosoever holds this hammer," Odin proclaimed, raising Mjolnir high, "if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor."
The Rainbow Bridge flared to life without Heimdall's touch, responding directly to Odin's will.
And Thor vanished, sent hurtling through space toward Midgard.
Only then did Loki come back to his senses.
He had been standing frozen throughout the entire confrontation, mind racing, unable to process what he was witnessing.
He stared at the empty space where his brother had stood just moments ago, his expression frozen in disbelief, his usual composure completely shattered.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
It had started as nothing more than a prank—one of his typical schemes. A way to humiliate Thor, to make him scolded by father, perhaps stripped of the coronation ceremony. Maybe confined to the palace for a few months, forced to actually read some books and learn diplomacy.
But this…
This was far beyond his wildest imagination. Far beyond what he'd ever intended.
Banished. Actually banished from Asgard.
Stripped of power. Made mortal.
A knot of guilt tightened in Loki's chest, cold and uncomfortable. This was his fault. His manipulation of Thor's pride, his careful orchestration of events that led to the disastrous invasion of Jotunheim.
Yet alongside the guilt… something else stirred. Something he was almost ashamed to acknowledge.
Excitement quietly bloomed.
With Thor gone, the path to the throne was clear. For the first time in his life, he stood alone as Odin's son in Asgard. The favorite, perhaps. The only option.
"Get out."
The sharp command shattered his thoughts like glass.
Loki's head snapped up. Odin was staring directly at him, that single eye seeing far too much, as it always did.
Loki bowed stiffly, mechanically, and retreated from the room. His footsteps echoed in the golden hall as he left, each step feeling heavier than the last.
Behind him, the massive doors closed with a resounding boom.
Soon, only two figures remained in the vast throne room.
The All-Father and Heimdall, guardian of the Bifrost.
Odin seemed to age before Heimdall's eyes, the weight of what he'd just done settling on his shoulders like a physical burden. He descended from the throne slowly, each step deliberate, and stood before the eternal flames.
"Heimdall," Odin said, his voice weary yet resolute. The voice of a father now, not a king. "Keep your eyes on him. Always."
He turned to face the guardian, his single eye gleaming with both concern and calculation.
"I have sent Thor to a far more dangerous place than he realizes. A land filled with opportunity… and immense peril. Midgard has changed since last I walked its soil. Powers are awakening there. Forces are moving in the shadows."
His expression grew grave.
"If you sense that his life is truly in danger—not merely threatened, but in genuine mortal peril—pull him back immediately. But otherwise… let him face what he must face. Let him learn what he must learn."
Heimdall placed his spear firmly against the floor, the sound ringing through the empty hall like a bell.
"As you wish, All-Father. My gaze shall not waver."
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