In the town below, Thor wasn't looking at the Destroyer lying there in pieces.
He was looking at Clark.
After finishing the fight, Clark didn't leave. Instead, he headed toward the S.H.I.E.L.D. base.
More specifically, toward the crater where Mjolnir rested.
"What's he doing?" Thor asked, confused.
It wasn't just Thor.
Everyone there, other than Tony, was watching Clark's next move.
They all knew how bizarre that hammer was. S.H.I.E.L.D. had tried everything. Jeeps pulling it, cranes lifting it, even explosives. The hammer had stayed rooted in place like it had fused with the Earth itself.
Even its original owner, the God of Thunder, hadn't been able to move it.
So if Clark, this seemingly invincible man, stepped up to it...
Could he move it?
Was he planning to rip it free with brute force?
Clark stepped down into the crater. At the bottom, Mjolnir sat where it had landed, its surface etched with mysterious magical runes.
The little devil in Clark's head was already screaming itself hoarse.
"Lift it! Lift it! Show these yokels that in the face of absolute physical power, magic means nothing!"
The little angel, meanwhile, was chewing anxiously on a handkerchief.
"Please don't do anything reckless, Clark! If you fail, all the aura you built up by tearing apart that giant robot is gone!"
Clark ignored both of them.
He stepped up to Mjolnir and wrapped his right hand around the handle.
But he didn't pull right away.
Instead, he closed his eyes.
Odin's enchantment began its silent judgment.
Whosoever is worthy to hold this hammer shall possess the power of Thor.
"Worthy..." Clark murmured inwardly.
And in that moment he thought of everything beautiful in both his past and present lives.
His parents. His friends. His family.
He had no ambition to rule the world.
No madness about destroying the universe.
At his core, he was just an ordinary person slowly growing from someone who wanted to protect his family, to someone who wanted to protect a city, and maybe one day the world.
Sure, he was always saying he didn't want to deal with this or that.
But whenever something truly happened, he still stepped forward.
His heart held a kind of purity anyone could examine without shame.
And an absolute instinct to protect.
Then something incredible happened.
Mjolnir suddenly let out a clear metallic hum. Lightning crackled over the hammer's surface.
A bolt came crashing down from the sky without warning and struck it.
Thor saw that and felt like his whole soul had been split open.
Was his hammer really going to abandon him?
Because this meant Clark was worthy.
Clark had met the standard.
He could become Thor.
He could wield the hammer.
And then Clark casually lifted it with one hand, as though it had always been his weapon to claim.
"That... that's impossible..." Thor's legs gave out, and he collapsed into the mud, eyes unfocused, muttering to himself.
In all of Asgard's history, only Odin and Thor himself had ever been able to lift that hammer.
And now a mortal from Midgard had done it?
Everyone watching was stunned into silence.
Clark held Mjolnir in one hand and could feel the immense divine power inside it. If he wanted to, he could become one of the greatest wielders of thunder in the universe that very second.
In raw might, not just in the narrower sense of controlling lightning.
But he only smiled.
It wasn't his.
He had only wanted to know whether he was worthy to lift it.
"Nice hammer," Clark said, in a tone almost offensively casual. "Good balance too."
Then he turned and looked at Thor.
"Thor. This belongs to you, doesn't it?"
Thor looked up at him, stunned.
"When the Destroyer came for us, you had no power left. You knew you could die. So why did you still step forward?"
Clark crouched so he could look Thor directly in the eye.
Thor fell silent.
His fists clenched.
And in that silence, he finally began to understand why his father had sent him to Earth.
Power had never been the true measure of a god.
Learning mercy. Learning to protect. Learning how to sacrifice for others.
That was the final lesson Odin had wanted his son to learn.
"Because..." Thor said slowly, "that was between Loki and me. The people of Midgard were innocent. I am a warrior. A warrior of Asgard. I do not retreat, and I will not allow the weak to die because of me."
Clark's smile widened.
That answer satisfied him completely.
And in truth, the moment Thor had chosen to step out and face the Destroyer, he had already passed.
"Then take back what's yours."
With a flick of his wrist, Clark sent Mjolnir flying straight toward Thor.
Thor instinctively threw out his right hand.
The hammer landed solidly in his grip.
And the instant his fingers closed around it, the skies over New Mexico erupted.
Endless lightning lit up the heavens and crashed down into Thor's body. His mortal clothes vanished, replaced by Asgardian armor. A crimson cape unfurled behind him.
His power had returned.
The God of Thunder had come back.
Thor's arrogance was gone now.
He bowed his head to Clark and Tony.
"Friends of Midgard, thank you. You helped me find myself again. I owe you an apology for the narrowness of my old vision. With men like you in Midgard, even if evil from the other realms comes here, it will not run wild."
He tightened his grip on the hammer.
"Once I've settled matters in Asgard, I will return to Midgard and fight for Earth."
Clark looked at the perfect tank-and-damage-dealer he'd just recruited for future team fights and mentally congratulated himself.
"Earth will be glad to have you, Thor."
Thor gave them a final nod.
The Bifrost appeared.
And in the next instant, Thor was gone.
"Mr. Stark," Clark said, glancing sideways at Tony, "Earth's defense budget is going to need a lot more of your money. As for me, I need to get back to New York. If I'm late getting home, I'll miss school in the morning."
And before Tony could complain, Clark vanished from sight.
Tony stared up at the empty sky.
"...Do students these days not even say goodbye properly? What exactly is American education doing?"
He suddenly felt a little lonely. Just like that, he was alone again.
Back in New York, meanwhile, the reduced-screen-time New York home team...
Inside the secret base, Peter, Gwen, Cindy, Eddie, and Mary Jane were all gathered together, looking over the photos Eddie had just developed.
The pictures showed the three spider-powered heroes in costume cleaning up Hell's Kitchen. Eddie was still a rookie, but the shots were actually pretty good.
"This is perfect!" Eddie said, pumping a fist. "If one of these gets printed in the Daily Bugle, old man Jameson is never calling me useless again!"
In the cut material he'd learned everyone's identities, so now he had officially become the team's field photographer.
As for the Green Goblin, he had already prepared his countermeasure against Clark.
Specifically, the so-called weakness Clark had casually invented on the spot earlier, smoke bombs.
Standing atop a high-rise, the Goblin looked out over New York.
"People of New York... the real game begins now."