High above the Thames, Thor Odinson, God of Thunder and Prince of Asgard, faced Lockhart across a gulf of charged air. The crimson cape at Thor's shoulders billowed dramatically despite the absence of wind, responding instead to the divine energy swirling around its bearer.
BOOM!
Thunder shook the heavens as Thor channeled his birthright. Dark blue lightning crackled around Mjolnir, ancient runes flaring along its enchanted metal as the weapon responded to its master's call. The air between the combatants became charged with ozone, reality itself warping under the pressure of godly power.
With a practiced motion born from a thousand battles across the Nine Realms, Thor hurled his legendary hammer. Mjolnir streaked toward Lockhart like a thunderbolt given form, trailing azure electricity in its wake.
Lockhart, seemingly unconcerned by the approaching divine weapon, raised his wand with elegant precision. He positioned it before his chest in a classical dueling stance, then executed a complex pattern of movements. Streams of iridescent light—colors that had no proper names in human language—flowed from the wand's tip, enveloping him in a prismatic aura.
Mjolnir passed directly through Lockhart's body as if striking a hologram, continuing its trajectory unimpeded into the distance.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
The wind howled in the hammer's wake, yet Lockhart's expression remained composed, showing neither pain nor concern. The wizard hadn't even bothered to dodge, knowing his dimensional displacement made physical attacks irrelevant.
Thor's expression darkened. This display of casual dismissal—of treating Mjolnir, the mighty Uru hammer forged in the heart of a dying star, as if it were a mere inconvenience—felt like a deliberate provocation.
The thunder god's anger swelled, and with it, the power coursing through his veins. The lightning surrounding his form darkened progressively from azure to nearly black, signaling a deeper drawing upon his godhood. The very air began to taste of destruction as Thor's full divine nature emerged.
This shift in power caused Lockhart's brow to furrow slightly. He sensed the change immediately—felt the targeting lock that Mjolnir had established and the threatening aura emanating from the darkened lightning. This was no longer a perfunctory attack; Thor was beginning to fight in earnest.
Whoosh!
Thor raised his right hand, silently commanding Mjolnir's return. The hammer, entangled in obsidian lightning, roared back toward its master from the distant horizon.
Recognizing the incoming threat, Lockhart moved with practiced efficiency. He traced a complex sigil with his wand, and precisely at the moment when Mjolnir would have reached him, a portal ringed with crimson flames materialized in its path.
The hammer shot through this dimensional doorway, instantly transported to the opposite side of the planet.
Thor's face contorted with frustration as he felt his connection to Mjolnir stretch to its limit. The weapon was now thousands of miles away, requiring precious time to return.
"Thor," Lockhart's voice carried an unsettling mixture of friendly advice and condescension, "you should reconsider this confrontation. Even without Mjolnir, you could potentially challenge me if you fully awakened your bloodline's potential." He paused, allowing the implications to sink in. "But as things stand now..."
The unfinished sentiment hung in the air between them like a silent insult. To Thor, the message was unmistakable: without your hammer, you are beneath my notice.
Without waiting for Thor's response, Lockhart flicked his wand in a sweeping motion. Dozens of shimmering, multi-colored energy ropes materialized around him, then shot toward Thor with unerring accuracy. These mystical bindings sought to entangle the thunder god—restraining his limbs, torso, and power.
In truth, Lockhart harbored no genuine ill will toward Thor. Their relationship had been cordial in the past; the thunder god had even provided Lockhart with several valuable Asgardian artifacts for his research. If possible, he preferred to neutralize rather than harm the Asgardian prince.
Thor, drawing upon centuries of combat experience, dodged with surprising agility for one of his stature. He wove between the mystical bindings, simultaneously reaching out with his godly senses to monitor Mjolnir's return journey.
Lockhart observed Thor's evasive maneuvers with clinical detachment. With a delicate tap and circular motion of his wand, he adjusted the trajectory of his spell. The colorful, dreamlike ropes abruptly changed direction, wrapping around Thor's arms and legs as if possessing a predatory intelligence.
Upon contact, the ropes infused Thor's body with oneiric energy—the power of dreams and illusions—designed to suppress and restrict the divine energy flowing through the Asgardian's form.
"Lockhart!" Thor bellowed, his pride wounded more than his body. "If you possess any courage, abandon these cowardly tactics! Face me warrior to warrior!"
Thor struggled against his mystical bonds, acutely aware that Mjolnir remained on the opposite side of the globe, still minutes away from returning to his grasp.
"Thor," Lockhart replied with infuriating calmness, "just remain quiet for now. When this is finished, Odin is your father, after all. You'll face no lasting consequences."
This dismissive comment struck Thor like a physical blow. The implication that he was merely hiding behind his father's shadow—that he was simply Odin's spoiled son rather than a warrior in his own right—ignited a fury beyond anything the magical bindings had provoked.
This patronizing attitude embodied everything Thor had struggled against for centuries: the perception that his achievements stemmed not from his own merit but from his royal lineage. To hear such sentiment from a former ally cut deeper than any blade.
Crackle! Crackle!
Thor's anger awakened something primal within him—the pure, undiluted power of the thunder god lineage that flowed through his veins since birth. His body began to glow from within, and thick arcs of dark blue lightning erupted spontaneously from his skin.
SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!
The colorful, dreamlike ropes restraining him shattered as the crackling energy spread along their length. The mystical bindings, despite their otherworldly nature, couldn't contain the raw divine power now emerging from Thor's very being.
BOOM!
Thor hovered in midair, completely engulfed in a corona of lightning that spread outward in all directions. For perhaps the first time since arriving on Earth, he truly resembled the ancient Norse depictions of the God of Thunder—a primordial force of nature barely contained within humanoid form. His eyes blazed with electric blue light as he raised his right hand skyward.
With a thunderous crack that shook the clouds themselves, Mjolnir—having traversed half the globe in response to its master's need—transformed into a streak of blue light and materialized in Thor's outstretched hand.
The legendary weapon, sensing the awakened divine essence in Thor's blood, seemed to vibrate with excitement. The runes along its surface glowed more intensely, responding to the purest expression of its master's power.
"Now," Thor's voice resonated with newfound authority, "we shall have a proper confrontation."
Before the final syllable had left his lips, Thor vanished in a flash of blue light. He reappeared instantly before Lockhart, Mjolnir already raised high above his head. Without pause, he brought the hammer down in a devastating strike.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
The speed of the attack was so great that the sound of displaced air arrived only after the hammer had completed its arc. The very atmosphere tore apart under the force of the blow.
Lockhart, sensing imminent danger, stepped backward with inhuman swiftness. His movement was so rapid that an afterimage remained briefly at his original position—a perfect duplicate that received the full force of Thor's attack.
Mjolnir passed through this phantom, finding no resistance. Thor registered the deception immediately, his battle-honed instincts telling him he had struck nothing more substantial than a magical illusion.
Reappearing several meters away, Lockhart's expression hardened. The playful detachment vanished from his features, replaced by the focused intensity of a master duelist who recognized a genuine threat.
Arcane energy surged from Lockhart's core, radiating outward as he began his counter-offensive. Prismatic light streamed from his wand in ever-widening circles—the prelude to his signature technique.
The Dream was coming.
Thor recognized the technique immediately. He had witnessed Lockhart employ this reality-warping magic in previous encounters, though never directed against him. Understanding the danger, Thor raised Mjolnir skyward and channeled his divine authority, summoning the full might of his elemental domain.
All available electrical potential in the atmosphere rushed to answer his call, condensing into a bolt of black lightning so concentrated it appeared solid. In mere seconds, Thor had gathered enough power to level a small city, the energy crackling around Mjolnir with barely contained fury.
With a decisive downward swing, Thor launched this condensed destruction directly at Lockhart's wand—the focal point of the wizard's gathering spell.
Lockhart's Dream technique was undeniably powerful, but it required time to fully manifest. Thor had interrupted the process at its most vulnerable moment.
Recognizing the immediate threat to his wand, Lockhart abandoned his initial strategy. Rather than completing the Dream Realm expansion, he inverted the technique, drawing the mystical energy inward to create a defensive shell of oneiric power around himself.
Thor pressed his advantage, channeling even more thunder through his awakened bloodline. The air around him became saturated with electric potential until, within moments, a veritable sea of lightning extended outward from his position in all directions.
This storm of divine power collided with Lockhart's dream-shell, neither force yielding to the other. Lightning and dreams—primal forces representing the oldest magics of their respective realms—locked in perfect opposition.
A stalemate emerged, the balance of power suspended in precarious equilibrium.
Thor allowed himself a grim smile of satisfaction. Even if he couldn't defeat Lockhart outright, containing the wizard's actions fulfilled his mission. As long as neither could gain the upper hand, access to the Celestial embryo remained blocked.
At that moment, a premonition struck Thor—a sense of impending calamity that transcended normal perception. His divine intuition, sharpened by centuries of warfare, warned of disaster elsewhere.
Instinctively, he glanced downward toward the battlefield below.
BOOM!
A fireball erupted on the embankment, and through the smoke and flames, Thor witnessed Iron Man's form plummeting to the ground. Tony's armor was shattered, pieces breaking away to reveal the motionless body within.
Simultaneously, not far from where Tony fell, Lockhart's student Ian collapsed in a spreading pool of crimson. Blood soaked the pavement beneath him, flowing outward in rivulets.
Both combatants—leaders of their respective factions—appeared devoid of life's breath, their bodies broken and still amid the chaos of battle.