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"Elizabeth, keep an eye on the shop while I'm out," Rosh said as he pushed his leather chair back and stood up. "I'm taking a quick trip to New Mexico."
He didn't hesitate for a single second. Now that Mjolnir had officially dropped, there was zero reason to sit around and wait.
"You're going to check out that hammer yourself, Manager?" Elizabeth asked, her eyes lighting up with sheer curiosity.
She tilted her head, tapping a pen against her chin. "What actually makes it so special anyway?"
She had been dying to ask ever since Rosh ordered their private scouts to monitor the New Mexico desert weeks ago. At the time, she couldn't wrap her head around why someone as terrifyingly powerful and knowledgeable as Rosh would care so much about a single piece of metal buried in the sand.
The fact that he had predicted its exact arrival weeks before it even fell out of the sky only made the whole thing ten times more mysterious.
Seeing her puzzled expression, Rosh gave a soft, knowing smile. "It's a divine weapon."
"...A divine weapon?" Elizabeth blinked, wondering if her ears were playing tricks on her.
"That's right," Rosh replied casually, adjusting his collar. "A war hammer forged specifically for a god."
Elizabeth completely froze.
'A god?' The mere word sent a chill down her spine. 'Did actual, literal gods really exist?'
For a split second, the idea sounded completely absurd, like something pulled straight out of ancient mythology books. But after working at the Home of the Devil Fruits, that skepticism evaporated pretty fast.
Just a short while ago, she had personally poured water for a gun-toting talking raccoon and a walking tree alien from deep space. On top of that, she watched customers gain powers every day that completely defied every law of physics.
Compared to all of that? The existence of gods didn't seem quite so crazy anymore. This universe was infinitely bigger and way weirder than she had ever grown up believing.
*Creak!*
Without another word, Rosh reached into the empty air in front of him and opened a floating door. Step by step, he walked through the spatial portal, covering thousands of miles in less than a heartbeat.
When he stepped out on the other side, the sticky New Mexico desert heat hit him instantly. Dry, dusty wind swept across endless miles of sun-bleached sand, stretching all the way to the horizon.
The exact second his boots touched the sand, Rosh unleashed his Observation Haki.
An invisible, lightspeed wave of sensory perception flared outward from his mind, sweeping across the entire state of New Mexico in a fraction of a second. Every highway, every small town, every living soul, and every pulsing energy signature were mapped directly into his consciousness.
'...Found him.'
It took less than a second to locate his target.
Thor's energy signature stood out like a blazing spotlight against a sea of ordinary human life forces. At the moment, the former God of Thunder was lying flat on his back inside a local hospital room, securely pinned down after being detained by local police.
Apparently, stomping into a heavily guarded military quarantine zone, picking fights with federal agents, and loudly screaming that you were the son of Odin wasn't a great strategy if you wanted people to think you were sane. As far as the doctors were concerned, Thor was just another jacked, delusional patient who had taken one too many hits to the head.
At the exact same time, Rosh's Observation Haki locked onto a second, even denser energy signature. A few miles away, resting quietly at the very bottom of a massive, cracked impact crater... sat Mjolnir.
The legendary war hammer radiated an unmistakable, crushing weight of divine enchantment. It was so heavy with mystic energy that it almost hummed through the earth.
Rosh glanced over in the direction of the crater, then shifted his gaze back toward the local hospital where Thor was trapped.
He paused, thinking the situation over for a second. Ultimately, he decided not to approach Thor just yet.
The reasoning was brutally simple. Right now, Thor had been stripped of literally everything that made him important.
After disobeying King Odin's orders and nearly starting a war with the Frost Giants, Thor had his divine thunder sealed away and was banished to Earth as a helpless mortal. The arrogant, untouchable Prince of Asgard had crashed straight to rock bottom.
And more importantly, from a pure business perspective?
Current Thor had zero value as a customer.
Without his divine powers and royal status, his Destiny Points had completely plummeted to the floor. In his present, human state, the once-mighty God of Thunder was literally, cosmically broke.
Even if Rosh offered him the most broken, god-tier Devil Fruit in his inventory, Thor didn't have enough purchasing power to afford a single bite.
Compared to Thor, however, his younger brother was a vastly better target.
Sooner or later, Loki, the God of Mischief, would descend to Earth to subtly manipulate events from the shadows. He was the one driving the narrative, setting up the exact path King Odin had intended all along.
As far as Rosh was concerned, from a pure profit perspective, Loki was currently the top priority in New Mexico.
Unfortunately, the prince of trickery hadn't made his grand entrance on Earth just yet.
"Oh well," Rosh muttered with a relaxed, easygoing shrug. "Might as well go check out Mjolnir first."
To be completely honest, he had been dying of curiosity about one specific detail for a long time: Would he actually be able to lift Thor's legendary hammer?
After all, Mjolnir didn't care about how much weight you could bench press or how many planet-shattering Logia powers you possessed. It operated on a far more mysterious, divine metric.
Worthiness.
Even with all the incredible achievements, Devil Fruits, and absolute power Rosh had accumulated since arriving in this universe, he honestly had no clue whether his soul possessed the specific flavor of honor that Odin's enchantment demanded.
And really, there was only one way to satisfy his curiosity.
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A few moments later, Rosh arrived at the edge of the impact site.
By now, S.H.I.E.L.D. had locked the entire area down under a maximum-security protocol. The massive, scorched crater was completely encircled by a tight perimeter of tactical fencing, temporary plastic corridors, and heavy floodlights that cut bright white beams through the darkening desert sky. Armed agents stood posted every ten feet, their eyes scanning the horizon for intruders.
Beyond the restricted barricades, dozens of local townspeople were gathered in a noisy crowd. They pointed toward the center of the pit, excitedly whispering and swapping wild theories about what had crashed out of the night sky.
Before S.H.I.E.L.D. moved in with their black SUVs and heavy gear, plenty of locals had already tried their hand at claiming the mysterious hammer for themselves.
It had practically turned into a town fair event, strongmen had wrapped both hands around the leather grip, pulling until their faces turned purple. Groups of buddies had stacked up to pull in unison, only to fall backward in a heap. One group of over-confident guys had even wrapped industrial-grade steel tow chains around the head and hooked it to the back of a jacked-up 4x4 pickup truck.
The result? The hammer won. Easily.
The heavy steel chains snapped like cheap twine, the truck's rear axle violently tore itself apart, and the tires dug deep, burning grooves into the dirt before the engine blew out. Through it all, Mjolnir hadn't budged a single millimeter. It sat in the dirt, completely unmoved.
After watching failure after hilarious failure, everyone had finally come to the exact same realization: this wasn't just a heavy piece of metal. Whatever it was, it belonged to a realm far beyond human understanding.
As Rosh casually strolled up to the main S.H.I.E.L.D. security checkpoint, his hands tucked casually in his pockets, the lead guard on duty immediately froze.
The agent's eyes went wide beneath his tactical helmet. He instantly snapped to attention, giving a sharp, ultra-respectful salute.
"Mr. Rosh!" the guard said, his voice brimming with deference. "Is there something we can do for you, sir?"
Rosh offered a casual nod, pointing a thumb over his shoulder toward the center of the crater. "Let Coulson know I'm heading inside to take a look."
"Right away, Mr. Rosh!"
The agent didn't dare hesitate for even a second. "Please hold on for just one moment!" He spun around on his heel and practically sprinted toward the central command trailer.
A minute later, Agent Phil Coulson emerged from the tented hub.
The moment his eyes caught sight of Rosh standing comfortably at the perimeter, a warm, relieved smile spread across his tired face. He walked over, offering a polite, professional greeting.
"Manager Rosh," Coulson said, his tone a blend of genuine respect and slight humor. "What brings a man like you all the way out to the middle of the New Mexico desert?"
Rosh gave a faint, knowing grin. "I think you can guess the answer to that, Phil."
Coulson couldn't help but chuckle softly, turning his head to glance back at the glowing, heavily lit impact zone behind him.
"So..." Coulson gestured past the barricades, inviting Rosh to walk alongside him into the heart of the secure facility. "I take it you actually know what this thing is?"
Under normal circumstances, S.H.I.E.L.D. would have never allowed a civilian anywhere near an unidentified object as dangerous as Mjolnir.
An unknown extraterrestrial anomaly radiating unimaginable power? The entire sector would have been sealed tighter than a vault, surrounded by sniper nests and high-voltage fences.
But Rosh was light-years away from being an ordinary civilian.
He was Manager Rosh.
Even Nick Fury himself wouldn't dream of ordering S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to stop him by force. Trying to block the path of a man who could effortlessly leap between dimensions and command light itself was a quick way to lose an entire tactical division.
So instead of pointing weapons or demanding clearance badges, Coulson personally escorted him past every armed checkpoint and deeper into the restricted compound. As the two of them walked side by side down the plastic tunnels, Rosh casually broke the silence.
"You're familiar with the name Thor, the God of Thunder, aren't you?"
Coulson nodded instinctively, his hands neatly tucked into his suit pockets. "Of course. He's one of the central figures in ancient Norse mythology. Son of Odin, wielder of lightning... classic bedtime story stuff."
Then, mid-stride, Coulson froze, his rigid, professional expression slowly stiffening. His eyes widened behind his clear lenses.
"...Wait."
Coulson turned his head toward Rosh, pure disbelief spreading across his face as the dots connected in his mind.
"Manager Rosh..." His usual calm, soft-spoken voice rose noticeably. "Are you telling me..."
"...that this hammer actually belongs to the real God of Thunder?"
Rosh offered a faint, amused smile. "Is that really so hard to believe?"
He glanced sideways at the agent with an entertaining look in his eyes. "You work for a secret government intelligence agency, Phil. After everything you've seen since I opened shop, I'd think your standards for what's 'impossible' would be a little bit higher."
Coulson opened his mouth to offer a smooth comeback...
...and then quietly snapped it shut again.
For several long seconds, the veteran agent couldn't think of a single word to say.
Thor, the legendary, mythical God of Thunder. A figure humanity had dismissed as nothing more than primitive folklore for thousands of years... was an actual, living being?
The revelation hit Coulson like a sudden jolt of electricity. Even after spending years working in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s top-secret division and dealing with powered individuals daily, this single fact left him genuinely blown away.
Yet despite his shock, Coulson didn't doubt Rosh's words for a second.
Rosh had proven himself far too many times. Every prediction he made came true, and every impossible claim he made turned out to be cold, hard facts. If the Manager said the hammer belonged to the Norse God of Thunder, then it belonged to Thor. Period.
The two continued walking down the sloped dirt path until they finally reached the very bottom of the massive impact crater. There, embedded firm and upright in the sunbaked clay, rested a plain-looking, square-headed mallet.
At first glance, it really didn't look like much. Its proportions were modest, the leather strap on the handle looked slightly worn, and its metallic finish was surprisingly simple.
Yet everyone standing in that crater knew that appearances were completely deceiving.
Coulson looked at the hammer, letting out a heavy sigh before speaking up.
"It really doesn't look like much, does it?" Coulson said, shaking his head. "But we've thrown everything in the S.H.I.E.L.D. playbook at it. Our strongest field agents couldn't budge it. Industrial construction winches couldn't budge it. We even hooked up modified heavy vehicles and tried every hydraulic method our engineers could dream up."
He let out a helpless, dry laugh.
"Nothing worked. It hasn't shifted even a fraction of an inch."
Now that he knew the hammer belonged to a literal god, the complete failure of human physics suddenly made perfect sense. A divine weapon wasn't bound by standard weight or gravitational pull; it played by entirely different rules.
Rosh didn't say a word in response.
Instead, he silently stared at Mjolnir resting in the dirt. A subtle flicker of genuine anticipation ignited in his dark eyes. Without saying another word, Rosh stepped forward into the center of the pit.
One step.
Two steps.
He closed the distance until he was standing directly over the legendary weapon.
Behind him, Coulson unconsciously held his breath, his posture tense with intense expectation. If anyone on Earth possessed the sheer, absurd force required to lift a weapon that defied all known physics... surely it was the Manager of the Home of the Devil Fruits.
*Grip!*
Rosh casually reached down. His fingers closed tightly around the brown leather handle of the hammer.
He planted his feet firmly against the cracked desert ground, shifted his weight, and slowly began to pull upward.
The moment Rosh applied upward force...
An absolute, crushing resistance slammed back against his grip.
It didn't feel like trying to lift something extraordinarily heavy, like a tank or a mountain. It felt completely different. No matter how much terrifying strength he channeled into his arm, Mjolnir remained deadlocked in the dirt, as if it had permanently fused with the very core of the planet itself.
It was like trying to lift an entire continent into the sky with a single hand.
Not even the faintest vibration rippled through the handle.
The hammer didn't shift. Not by a single millimeter. Not by a fraction of an inch.
Rosh let go of the leather grip and stared down at Mjolnir for a quiet second before letting out a soft, entertained chuckle to himself.
'Well then... guess Odin doesn't consider me "worthy."'
Honestly, he wasn't disappointed in the slightest. He hadn't come down to New Mexico expecting to magically pick the thing up anyway. If anything, this whole detour had just been a fun little experiment to satisfy his own burning curiosity.
Now he had his answer.
The enchantment Odin had woven into Mjolnir was every bit as absolute as the Asgardian legends claimed. Unless someone met the All-Father's highly specific, divine standard of a self-sacrificing warrior, no amount of raw physical force or Logia power was ever going to move it.
Whether someone like Hela could eventually shatter the spell was a completely different conversation... but simply trying to overpower it with brute muscle? Yeah, that wasn't going to cut it.
Standing a few paces back, Coulson remained completely frozen, his eyes wide.
To be entirely honest, Coulson had secretly believed that if anyone on Earth could break the rules and lift that hammer, it would be Rosh. After all, this was the same guy who could step through spatial doorways, move at the literal speed of light, and hand out reality-bending superpowers like candy.
Yet even the legendary Manager couldn't make it budge.
The sight left Coulson feeling more awestruck than ever. This truly was a weapon forged strictly for gods. If a cosmic powerhouse like Rosh couldn't move it an inch, then no ordinary mortal on Earth stood even a fraction of a chance.
With his curiosity officially satisfied, Rosh clapped his hands together, casually dusting off his palms with a relaxed grin.
"Well, looks like my answer is pretty clear."
He turned on his heel, looking over at the stunned S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. "I'll leave the hammer in your team's capable hands for now."
Coulson snapped back to reality, nodding with absolute respect. "We'll keep the entire perimeter locked down tight, Manager."
"Good." Rosh offered a casual wave over his shoulder as he turned and strolled up the crater's slope, his footsteps light on the desert dirt.
There was zero reason to hang around the impact site any longer. His ultimate objective was never the hammer itself. He had come to New Mexico for Thor... and, even more importantly, the inevitable arrival of Loki.
As Rosh's figure gradually faded into the dusty desert horizon, Coulson remained standing alone at the bottom of the pit, his gaze drifting back toward the silent, unyielding weapon embedded in the sunbaked earth.
He thought back to everything he had just witnessed in a span of ten minutes: a divine weapon that completely ignored physical force, an ancient God of Thunder who actually walked among mortals, and a mysterious manager who discussed cosmic entities as if they were just another day at the office.
The deeper Coulson pondered it all, the more he realized just how massive, terrifying, and impossibly vast the universe really was.
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Next Chapter: The Second Interstellar Customer
Next Next Chapter: A Devil Fruit That Left Even Loki Speechless
Next Next Next Chapter: The Devil Fruit That Could Replace Thor
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