Thor seized Atlas by the throat mid-air, fingers digging into flesh reinforced by LAW and demon bone alike, lightning screaming around them as the storm god dragged him upward.
Atlas felt skin tear.
Not just skin—definition. LAW strained immediately, screaming warnings through his nervous system as Thor's grip crushed not only windpipe and vertebrae, but the rules holding Atlas together. The pressure was intimate, deliberate. Thor wasn't trying to kill him quickly.
He wanted him to feel small.
The clouds did not part politely. They were ripped aside, peeled back in violent layers, revealing something beneath the sky that no mortal was ever meant to see.
Thor punched Atlas in the face.
The impact did not merely snap Atlas's head sideways.
It erased the space between where they were and where they were going.
Reality folded. There Traverse continuing, and continuing, reaching the Dark continent.
