The All-Father—Odin.
Antony's pupils narrowed.
For the first time since arriving in this universe, his instincts screamed a clear warning.
This old man… was dangerous.
Not Thor.
Not Heimdall.
Not even the Reality Stone.
Odin himself.
If this were Odin at his peak, Antony knew the truth without sugarcoating it—he'd be crushed. No theatrics. No comeback.
But now?
The All-Father's life-force flickered like a candle in a draft. A god approaching the end of his reign. Every step, every breath, restrained by the simple fact that he could no longer afford to go all out.
Unless… he wanted Ragnarok to arrive early.
"Odin," Antony said calmly. He didn't bow. Didn't kneel. Didn't even lower his gaze.
Instead, he straightened—and lifted slightly off the ground, placing himself at eye level with the king astride the eight-legged steed.
"I've heard a lot about you," Antony said with a polite smile.
"I'm Homelander. Earth's… guardian."
"Guardian?" Odin's single eye bored into him, ancient and merciless.
"I see your heart, mortal."
"I see no guardianship—only desire."
"You crave worship.
You crave power.
You crave standing above all others."
"Father!" Thor cut in urgently. "He may be arrogant, but he saved Jane. And he's protected Midgard countless times—"
"Silence, Thor!" Odin snapped. "You've ignored my counsel all your life!"
"You brought a mortal to Asgard. That alone is transgression enough. They do not belong here—no more than goat meat belongs at a royal feast."
"Goat meat?" Antony laughed.
"So that's the All-Father's palate?" He tilted his head. "Is being one-eyed a prerequisite for being this unpleasant, old man? You might want glasses—your depth perception's shot."
Antony drifted closer. Three meters. No more.
Golden-armored guards instantly drew their blades.
"And I prefer a different title," Antony continued casually, pointing at himself.
"God of the Human World."
"You ruled the Nine Realms for thousands of years, Odin. But look at you."
"Your hand trembles."
"You're afraid."
"Ragnarök?" Antony smirked. "Or afraid that you won't even make it to Valhalla?"
"INSOLENCE!" Heimdall roared, greatsword lifting.
"Enough." Odin raised a hand.
He studied Antony in silence, something unreadable flickering in his eye.
"You are bold, Midgardian."
"But this is Asgard. Power alone does not define law here."
Odin turned his gaze to the unconscious Jane Foster, sensing the turbulent pulse of the Aether within her.
"Take the woman to the healing chambers," Odin commanded Thor.
"As for this… guest."
A thin, dangerous smile crept onto Odin's lips.
"Since he insists on being here—let him see what a true divine realm looks like."
"Prepare quarters for him," Odin added coldly.
"…Near the Valaskjalf dungeons."
"Father?" Thor hesitated.
"Take him away," Odin said, already turning his back.
"And ensure he doesn't wander. Asgard does not tolerate rats."
Antony shrugged, completely unbothered.
A dungeon, huh?
Interesting. He'd heard a certain second prince was staying nearby.
He glanced at Thor and grinned.
"Lead the way, Hammer Boy. I'm tired. Could use a nap."
The so-called "dungeon-adjacent quarters" were absurdly luxurious.
Even compared to Earth's top-tier hotels, this place was obscene.
Antony stood on the balcony, gazing at the distant Rainbow Bridge.
Soft confinement.
Four elite Asgardian guards at the door.
Symbolic more than anything.
"Since I'm here," Antony muttered, unbothered,
"I might as well enjoy the stay."
He was waiting.
Waiting for the Dark Elves.
According to the original timeline, Malekith would soon sense the Aether and launch an invasion straight into Asgard. Chaos would follow—and chaos was opportunity.
"Still…" Antony rubbed his chin.
"Half the Reality Stone's inside Jessica. Half inside Jane."
"The script's already changed."
"How are you going to play this one, Malekith?"
Knock. Knock.
"Come in."
The door opened.
Not Thor.
Not a guard.
But a woman—graceful, regal, radiant with quiet authority.
Queen Frigga.
"Mr. Starr," she said gently, carrying a plate of fruit.
"I'm Frigga, Thor's mother."
"I heard a guest from Midgard had arrived," she continued warmly.
"These are Asgardian golden apples. They're… good for one's health."
Antony blinked.
This was definitely not in the script.
"The Queen personally delivering fruit?" Antony inclined his head politely.
"You're far too kind… to an unwanted intruder."
"Odin can be stubborn," Frigga said softly, setting the plate down.
"But I don't believe you're a bad man."
"Oh?" Antony raised a brow. "And what gave you that impression?"
"A witch's intuition," she smiled.
"Your heart is filled with pride and desire—but also the will to protect."
Antony fell silent.
This woman wasn't ordinary.
She was the greatest sorceress of the Nine Realms. Loki's magic came from her. Seeing through people was second nature.
"What do you want, Your Majesty?" Antony asked plainly.
Frigga stepped onto the balcony, gazing at the stars.
"I sense darkness approaching," she said quietly.
"Thor is reckless. Odin… is tired."
She turned back to Antony.
"If disaster comes… if Asgard stands on the brink…"
"I ask that you help my son."
"Help Thor?" Antony picked up a golden apple and bit into it.
Crunch.
Pure energy flooded his system.
"I run a company, Your Majesty," he said casually.
"My appearance fees are… substantial."
"I know." Frigga smiled—sharp, knowing.
"In Asgard's vaults, there is something of interest.
If you help Thor survive what's coming…"
"I can tell you how to safely wield it."
Antony froze.
"…Which thing?" he asked slowly.
"An Infinity Stone," Frigga whispered.
"A mortal body cannot normally endure its power. But you…"
Antony's eyes lit up.
"Deal."
He swallowed the apple and grinned broadly.
"You truly are a remarkable mother."
"There's one thing I can tell you right now," Antony added, lowering his voice.
"Your life is in dan—"
"Mr. Starr," Frigga interrupted gently.
"Fate…"
"…has already been decided."
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