Coulson's eyes went wide.
He'd already heard about the legendary hammer before coming to New Mexico. He'd even seen videos of it circulating online. But witnessing it with his own eyes was a shock no words could properly describe. He couldn't help but suck in a sharp breath, fighting the urge to rush forward right then and there to examine the hammer's mystery for himself.
Senju Haruto, however, remained calm as still water.
The hammer of Thor had been forged from the core of a dying star, combined with uru metal, and bound with Odin's enchantments. Unless someone was truly noble of spirit, no matter how terrifying their strength, it was impossible to lift. Not even the Hulk had managed it.
In the movies, aside from Thor himself, the only one who had ever lifted it was Captain Rogers.
"Haruto, what do you plan to do with the hammer?" Coulson asked for the third time, steering the conversation back to it.
Though he was technically the commander of this operation, in front of someone like Senju Haruto—the Supreme Sorcerer—Coulson could only lower his voice in inquiry. If Haruto chose to simply take the hammer, there was nothing he could do to stop him. What could he say? This belongs to S.H.I.E.L.D.? As if Haruto would care about that.
"Nothing."
Haruto didn't even pause before answering. The only reason he'd come to the crater where the hammer had fallen was because it coincided with one of his system's sign-in locations. He had no real interest in the hammer itself.
Not because he couldn't lift it—if Haruto wanted to, he had more than enough ways to succeed.
The real reason he dismissed it was simple: to him, the hammer was too weak.
For Thor, it was an indispensable weapon and a symbol of his noble character. For Captain Rogers, it had been a crucial tool in the battle against Thanos. But in Haruto's eyes, it was merely a focus, a tool that guided Thor's power.
Even Odin had said it: the true strength had always been inside Thor. The hammer's purpose was only to channel that strength, helping him focus.
Especially in Thor: Ragnarok, where the weapon had been crushed to pieces by Thor's own sister. A hammer that fragile—why would he care?
If anything, Haruto was far more intrigued by Stormbreaker.
So yes—he truly intended to do nothing.
Even so, he still accompanied Coulson to the rim of the massive crater.
There were plenty of onlookers gathered here, all drawn by the same purpose. When Haruto and Coulson appeared, the crowd didn't react with suspicion but rather welcomed them warmly.
One broad-shouldered man with a thick beard stepped up and handed them a chilled beer.
"Let me guess—you're here to try the trial too?" the man joked.
"Trial?" Coulson frowned. He didn't quite understand, but the topic piqued his curiosity.
"When someone raises that hammer," the man said quickly, "it means they've been chosen as a warrior."
He spoke with conviction, insisting the hammer was no ordinary object. He believed it had been cast down by God Himself, meant to choose a champion among humanity—someone destined to accomplish great things.
For instance… the recent incident in New York.
That devil's actions, the man explained, had clearly angered God. And so, this hammer had fallen from the heavens.
As the man spoke, Coulson's expression froze into a polite yet slightly awkward smile. Unconsciously, he glanced at Haruto.
He knew very well that the "devil" the man referred to was none other than the one standing beside him.
But the sight also reminded Coulson of another legend: Britannia's King Arthur.
It was said Arthur had pulled a sword from a stone when no one else could, marking the beginning of his legend.
And right before them stood a hammer no one had been able to lift.
"Maybe I should give it a try," Coulson said, his throat tightening as he swallowed. His men wouldn't be arriving for a while yet. Why not relax a little in the meantime?
The bearded man, excited, immediately stopped rambling and clapped his hands to encourage him.
Coulson wasted no time, shrugging off his suit jacket and stretching his limbs.
"Don't be fooled by appearances," he said jokingly to Haruto. "I can handle myself—at least by ordinary standards."
Haruto only smiled faintly, watching as Coulson strode slowly toward the hammer.
The applause fell silent, and for a moment, time itself seemed to pause.
Every tourist held their breath, eyes locked on Coulson, waiting to see what would happen. Even if they themselves had failed, witnessing someone else succeed would still be worth celebrating.
Besides, Coulson carried himself with a kind of quiet dignity, tall and well-built—like the protagonist of some heroic tale. If not for the dazzling glow of actual superheroes overshadowing him, perhaps he would have stood out more.
Haruto remembered once reading a short comic called A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Thor's Hammer, where Coulson had effortlessly subdued a pair of robbers in a convenience store with fluid, precise movements.
No wonder the people here held out hope. Some even pulled out their phones and cameras to record the moment.
"Hhh… hhh… huuuh…"
Coulson steadied his breathing, loosening his wrists, clearing his mind, relaxing his muscles. When he was ready, he lowered both hands to grip the hammer's handle.
Every person present held their breath—everyone except Haruto.
"Ahhhhhh!"
Coulson roared to summon his strength. As Haruto expected, the hammer didn't budge an inch.
"Ahhhhhh!"
He tried again, still nothing.
"Ahhh!"
On the third attempt, when it was clear the hammer remained immovable, he finally had to give up. The effort alone had drained a surprising amount of energy from him.
Panting heavily, Coulson returned to Haruto's side, shaking his head. "It feels like wrestling with solid bedrock."
He paused, then asked seriously, "Tell me, Haruto—do you know where this hammer actually comes from?"
Haruto cast him a brief glance, then looked back at the weapon.
"Have you ever heard of Norse mythology?" he asked.
"Norse mythology?" Coulson blinked, then nodded slowly. "Odin… Loki… Thor, those gods?"
"You mean this hammer is a weapon from Norse myth?"
The realization struck him, and an image of the thunder god wielding his hammer flashed in his mind.
If that were true… then it could only mean one thing.
Those mythic gods weren't just stories.
They were real.