Thor's gaze fell upon Mjolnir.
The hammer that had once thundered with him across the Nine Realms now lay silent, embedded in the glassy earth—like a shard of iron abandoned by fate itself.
The ancient runes etched into its surface were dull, lifeless, as though mourning the bond it had lost.
Thor's lips twitched. His chest tightened with sorrow.
For a fleeting, absurd moment, he imagined himself as a jilted lover shouting up at a goddess's balcony: "If he truly wanted to protect you, why am I the one standing guard downstairs instead of him?"
He shook his head sharply. No. Don't be a fool.
Mjolnir wasn't lost—he was waiting. Biding time under the purple-haired demon's tyranny, feigning submission to survive. Or perhaps… they were merely sparring in ways gods understand, never truly betraying their bond. Yes. That must be it.
And now, the game was over. Mjolnir would return.
Thor took a steadying breath, forgave the silence, and stepped forward.
With every footfall, ripples spread across the ground like still water disturbed.
His fingers closed around the handle—
BOOM—!!
Silvery-white lightning erupted like an awakened leviathan. Electric serpents lashed across the Pure Land of One Heart, splitting the sky with raw divinity.
Thor's golden hair rose like a halo in the storm. His eyes—once filled with doubt—now blazed with white light.
"It's back… Everything's back!" he laughed, voice trembling beneath the thunder. "I knew you still loved me, you stubborn old hammer—hah!"
His whisper vanished beneath the roar. Lightning coiled around him like a chrysalis, and within it, the gleam of reforged armor shimmered into being.
At the storm's zenith, a pillar of lightning—hundreds of meters wide—speared the heavens, punching through the thunderheads above.
When the light faded, Thor stood renewed.
Dark silver plates flowed across his form, liquid lightning coursing through every seam. His scarlet cloak drifted without wind, crackling with living arcs of violet and silver.
He raised his left hand. In his palm, Asgardian lightning mingled with the deep purple essence of the Thunder Manifestation—two powers, now harmonized.
Power thrummed in his veins—not just destruction, but sovereignty. Clarity. Purpose.
He looked up at the floating Thunder Manifestation high above, then placed a hand over his heart and bowed deeply—the highest salute of Asgardian respect.
"Thank you," he said, voice thick with humility. "You showed me my arrogance. My blindness."
He straightened, eyes clear, posture steady.
"But… forgive me. I cannot return to Asgard yet. Not while the civil war looms. The bloodshed would be catastrophic."
He paused, resolve hardening.
"I swear—I will travel to the other Realms. I won't bring more chaos to this world."
Raiden—Raiden Shogun—watched from above, arms folded. A flicker of approval passed through her violet eyes.
"…Can."
Thor turned to leave—
"Wait."
Her voice cut through the air like a blade.
She descended slowly, robes flowing with the weight of eternity, radiating quiet, suffocating authority.
"In our duel before the Emperor," she said, voice ice and steel, "you claimed my victory was hollow—because I wielded divine power, not martial skill."
A spark of violet lightning danced at her fingertips.
"That is a disgrace to the way of the warrior." Her eyes narrowed. "Now that you have reclaimed your might… it is time to settle this properly. As agreed."
Thor's face flushed—embarrassment, then resolve. He nodded.
"Of course. That's only right."
He glanced toward Sif, Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun—still dazed in the distance.
"Before we begin… would you spare them? Move them beyond the battlefield. I'd rather not see them caught in our storm."
Raiden gave a single, curt nod.
With a flick of her sleeve, a controlled bolt of violet lightning arced downward—not to harm, but to relocate. In an instant, the four Warriors Three and Sif vanished in a flash, reappearing far outside the Pure Land.
---
Outside the Observatory – Earth
THUD.
Four charred, smoking figures tumbled onto the desert sand before Jane Foster, Daisy Johnson, and Erik Selvig.
The air reeked of ozone, burnt hair, and molten metal.
"Thor's… friends?!" Jane gasped, dropping her coffee. She sprinted forward, boots kicking up hot sand.
Daisy and Selvig followed, stunned.
Jane knelt beside Sif, fingers flying to her neck. After a tense moment, she exhaled sharply.
"Damn it—they're alive!"
Daisy blinked, then grinned. "Oh? Then maybe I should go grab some—"
SMACK!
Selvig slapped her across the back of the head. "Focus! Help me assess their condition!"
Daisy rubbed her head, pouting—but there was mischief in her eyes, not pain. Still, she crouched beside Volstagg, brushing ash from his face.
Her eyes widened. "Whoa… Eric, look! His skin's regenerating! Like, visible cellular regeneration! This is—this is impossible!"
Selvig leaned in, fascinated. "By Yggdrasil… how are they even breathing after that? If I weren't a physicist, I'd demand tissue samples. Hell—I'd strap them to a lab table myself."
"Right?!" Daisy clapped. "No, seriously—go get some veggies from the kitchen, maybe we can—"
"Daisy."
She froze.
Jane stood abruptly, scanning the sand. "There are only four of them…" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Where's Thor?"
Daisy and Selvig exchanged glances—then realization struck.
They spun around. The desert stretched empty in every direction. No golden hair. No booming laugh.
Only silence… and a faint echo of thunder in the distance.
Then—
A pained groan.
Sif stirred, eyes fluttering open.
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