-Thor-
The cries of fleeing mortals echoed in my ears. I moved among them, a shepherd without his crook, guiding them toward safety. My hands, once accustomed to the weight of Mjolnir, now only pointed directions. A mother clutched her child, her face a mask of terror.
"This way!" I urged, my voice resonating with a strength I no longer possessed.
I nudged them toward the distant evacuation point, then turned to an old man, his legs trembling. He stumbled, but I caught him, supporting his meager weight. The shame burned hotter than any frost giant's ice. I, Thor, son of Odin, reduced to this.
I wanted to leap into the fray. My every instinct screamed to confront the monstrous Destroyer, to shatter the Frost Giants with a swing of a hammer I could no longer lift. Yet, my mortal form was a burden, a weakness that would endanger the very people I swore to protect. Each civilian I guided was a reminder of my powerlessness. A bitter, agonizing truth.
Through the swirling dust and the chaos, I saw him. Laufey. The colossal Frost Giant King, his blue skin a stark contrast to the barren desert. He advanced with slow, deliberate steps, his eyes fixed on our position. His gaze was a chill that pierced through the desert heat.
Jane, Selvig, and Darcy stood frozen, caught in the giant's menacing approach. Their faces held the same terror I had seen on the fleeing civilians. A cold dread gripped my heart. I had to protect them.
"Flee!" I roared, my voice raw with urgency. "Run! Now!"
I pushed them back, positioning my unworthy body between them and the encroaching behemoth. I was a shield of flesh and bone, fragile and defenseless. It was all I could offer.
Laufey stopped before me, his crimson eyes burning with an ancient cold. A cruel smile stretched his thin lips. He looked down at me, a god brought low.
"Still as foolish as the last time, Asgardian," Laufey said. "Do you remember Jotunheim? Your arrogance nearly cost your friends their lives. It cost you everything."
My blood boiled, the memories raw. I had been so eager for battle, so blind to the consequences. My warriors, my friends, stood ready to die by my side, all because of my foolish pride. Odin's voice, a thunderclap of disappointment, still echoed in my ears. The sting of his words, sharper than any blade.
He was right. I was a fool. But I was learning. I pushed the shame down, forcing myself to meet his gaze. These innocents would not pay for my past mistakes.
"Laufey," I pleaded, my voice heavy with a humility I had only recently discovered. "Let this end. There is no need for this destruction. I will surrender myself. Take me, but spare these mortals. Spare this realm."
He threw back his head and laughed, a hollow, grating sound that seemed to suck the warmth from the desert air. It was a sound that promised no mercy.
"You think I want you?" he scoffed, his gaze sweeping over Jane, Erik, and Darcy. "You are nothing. A broken toy. And this miserable rock? It means nothing to me, save for the satisfaction of seeing it burn."
He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper.
"Odin will pay for his trespasses, and I will ensure he suffers greatly. But first, this town will fall."
"You want me?" I repeated, my voice devoid of its usual thunder.
His words stung, but I knew them to be true. I was not the Thor he knew. I was not the warrior prince. I was only a man.
"You will not have them," I stated, my jaw tightening.
My spirit, though trapped in this fragile shell, would not bend. I would not yield. Not now, not ever.
"Such bravado for a mortal," Laufey sneered, raising his ice-weapon.
It was a wicked thing, sharp and glistening. He swung it in a wide arc, a glacial whisper of death. I twisted, my muscles screaming in protest. My body, once a blur of godly speed, now moved with a sluggishness that felt like a betrayal.
The ice blade grazed my arm, a cold burn. A thin line of red appeared on my skin. I tried to lash out, my fist clenching, but my blow was weak, clumsy. It glanced off his massive leg, no more than a mosquito bite.
Laufey laughed again, a harsh, grating sound that vibrated through my bones.
"Pathetic," he spat, his eyes filled with disdain. "You are nothing, Asgardian. Less than nothing."
My heart hammered against my ribs. He was right. I was weak. But weakness did not mean surrender. I pushed myself up, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I would not fall. Not while they stood behind me.
Laufey raised his weapon, the ice blade glinting with malicious intent. My heart pounded. This was it. I had failed. Jane, Erik, Darcy. Their faces flashed before my eyes. My arrogance, my foolishness, had brought this doom upon them.
Thwip!
A sharp hiss cut through the air. Laufey roared, a sound of irritation, not pain. An arrow, a small, insignificant thing, quivered in his blue arm. My eyes darted to the rooftop. Hawkeye. Clint Barton.
More arrows followed, a flurry of steel.
Thwip! Thwip! Thwip!
They struck Laufey's chest, his shoulders, his legs. The Frost Giant grunted, his red eyes burning with annoyance. These were mere pinpricks, but they drew his gaze, momentarily shifting his focus from me.
SHIELD agents, their uniforms dark against the pale desert, appeared from behind wrecked vehicles. Their small arms fire peppered Laufey's icy form. The bullets sparked against his skin, leaving only faint scorch marks. They had no effect, but their intervention bought precious moments.
Laufey swatted them aside like bothersome insects, his patience wearing thin. One agent flew into a wall, collapsing in a heap. Another was backhanded, his body twisting unnaturally before he fell. They were brave, these mortals, but they were outmatched.
They were dying for me.
Laufey turned back to me, his gaze now colder, sharper. He was tired of this diversion. He raised his ice weapon for the killing strike. My limbs were heavy, my breath caught in my chest. This was the end.
CRACK!
A force, unseen and brutal, slammed into Laufey from behind. The Frost Giant King reeled, a guttural cry escaping his lips. He stumbled, then crashed to the ground, critically injured.
My head spun. What had just happened?
I turned, disoriented, searching for the source of the blow. The Destroyer, his movements slow and deliberate, stood motionless. No, it was not the Destroyer.
A figure stood over Laufey, bathed in a strange, green light. Loki. My brother. He held Gungnir, Odin's staff, its power radiating around him. His face was unreadable, his eyes fixed on the fallen Frost Giant King.
Loki had intervened. Why? What game was he playing now?
***
Donate Power Stones to support this novel
Advance chapters in patreon.com/Najicablitz