Has Thor really arrived on Earth? Or is this just the plot skipping over the issue?
Damon had no evidence that the story had truly begun.
He didn't know if he was correct or not.
In fact, at that moment, he didn't care whatsoever.
In the middle of the night, he kept walking straight into the desert, following the tyre marks that were gradually softening and disappearing as he moved forward.
He didn't know how long he had been walking.
An hour? Two hours?
He had no idea how much time had passed since he left the town, trudging forward into the desert and enduring the chilly winds of the night.
"Am I even walking in the right direction?" Damon doubted himself—again and again. Yet despite the uncertainty, he kept moving forward.
Click.
A familiar clicking sound echoed in his mind. The cold that had seeped into his bones vanished. His hands stopped trembling. His teeth no longer chattered.
Feeling the changes in his body, Damon paused.
"Am I an idiot?" he asked himself, laughing softly at his own foolishness. "How could I forget what I possess?"
Walking fifty miles through a desert—the time it would take to reach the place he wanted to be—could range from ten hours to an entire day.
Walking there on foot didn't seem like a good idea.
But what about running?
That sounded even more absurd. Very few humans could cover such a distance without collapsing from exhaustion or being forced to slow down.
But Damon wasn't exactly a regular human.
Taking a deep breath, he stretched his arms and legs.
"Let's test this out a little," he muttered before lunging forward, accelerating into a full sprint and giving it his all.
At first, he pushed with everything he had. Soon, his heart rate began to spike dangerously. His chest burned with pain. His stamina plummeted.
He was still just a normal human. Not even at the level of a trained athlete. His stamina reserves were limited, his muscles unoptimized for such exertion.
Gradually, his pace slowed. His steps grew heavier.
But he did not stop.
"Ugh…"
Breathing became difficult. His heart felt like it was hammering against his ribs, threatening to burst free.
'Just a bit more… just a bit more,' Damon urged himself. His will refused to bend.
Click.
The familiar sound echoed again.
The moment the wheel turned, an unfamiliar current surged through his body. He felt it happen in real time—his body changing.
The stamina he had depleted returned instantly. The pain vanished. His heartbeat steadied, and he felt fresher than ever before.
The dark desert ahead, once nearly invisible, now appeared clearer, sharper.
"This…" Damon whispered in shock.
He was still running. And when he realized he could go faster, he did. He pushed harder, testing his new limits.
Click.
When fatigue began creeping back in, the wheel turned again. His body strengthened. His speed increased. His former limits shattered.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Each time he reached a boundary, the wheel responded.
His body adapted to the new speeds. The fat he once carried burned away. Beneath his dusty clothes, his physique transformed within hours.
His cardiovascular system evolved beyond normal human limits. His speed climbed higher and higher. His stamina deepened with each adaptation.
His body kept adapting.
Evolving.
Click.
The faint sound echoed once more as his body stabilized at an entirely new threshold.
The darkness began to recede.
The night gave way to dawn, and soon the sun claimed the sky. The vast desert plains stretched beneath a blue horizon.
Sweat glistened on Damon's lean frame, his black clothes damp and clinging to his skin. His black hair flowed in the desert wind. His blue eyes were wide as he gradually slowed to a halt after running at top speed through the entire night.
His gaze dropped to the ground.
Within a wide radius, the sand appeared scorched and partially vitrified, as though it had been flash-melted into a dark, glassy crust.
Strange circular patterns—alien, precise—were etched into the land, fading as the distance increased.
Damon walked toward the runic imprint and knelt down. He let the sand slip through his fingers.
"It's near…" he muttered, a grin spreading across his face.
A sudden laugh escaped him. "Hahahaha…"
He rose slowly and looked ahead.
Then he shot forward again.
His body, now adapted to fatigue and enhanced through countless rapid evolutions, encountered no resistance as he sprinted at full speed for several more minutes.
Finally, he reached the place he had spent the entire night chasing.
In a deep crater, in the middle of nowhere, stood an ancient hammer embedded firmly in the earth, gleaming under the morning sun.
The weapon of the God of Thunder. The hammer among hammers, containing the power of lightning and storm.
'Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor.'
The enchantment echoed in Damon's mind as he stared at the divine weapon.
"Mjolnir."