The runes on Mjolnir flared with dazzling light.
Sensing someone powerful attempting to lift it, the hammer immediately produced a kind of "stress response." The runes flowing across its surface seemed to channel some force, pushing back against Herman's attempt. He recognized it as Odin's enchantment.
In truth, Mjolnir wasn't all that heavy. The core of a dead star didn't represent an entire planet; for Herman, lifting it should have been effortless. But under Odin's spell, every bit of strength he used was matched with an equal measure of resistance from the hammer.
How to put it...
You could think of Mjolnir's "weight" as a shifting variable. However much power someone used to lift it, it would always become just a little heavier.
That's why neither humans nor trucks could move it—and even if a spaceship tried to haul it away, the result would be the same.
Unless... someone could resist and break Odin's spell. But Odin was a Sky Father–level God-King; his power was not something easily opposed.
"Interesting."
Divine fire burned in Herman's eyes. He had come here precisely to test himself against Odin's power.
"It's just a spell!" The divine force within him surged awake, erupting with power enough to shatter mountains.
"Crackle—"
As if sensing Herman's threat, Mjolnir lit up with arcs of electricity, countless bolts whipping across its surface.
The pit instantly filled with dancing lightning.
"It's reacting?" Hawkeye stared in shock from above.
"It really is a hammer that discharges electricity..." Coulson muttered, already wondering if that energy could somehow be harnessed as clean power.
"Crackle crackle crackle!"
The lightning lashed at Herman like it meant to drive him back. The power was enough to crush buildings or even small hills.
But to him, it was nothing more than a tickle—like an electric massage spa treatment, entirely harmless.
Of course, Mjolnir's wild power was destructive enough to reduce his clothes and sunglasses to dust. Herman instantly activated his Superman suit, covering himself completely. He didn't need to worry about losing his gear—Mjolnir's might couldn't tear through the suit.
"Not satisfied with me?"
He knew Mjolnir carried a faint consciousness. That was why Odin had granted it Divinity, and why one day it would choose a new wielder—the female Thor.
"Zzzzz!"
The lightning grew denser and fiercer, illuminating even beyond the pit. To Coulson, it looked like Herman was welding something down there—welding an aircraft carrier, by the look of it. The sheer power was terrifying.
It was the Mjolnir's clear response—it was displeased, deeming Herman unworthy to lift it.
"What's happening?" Coulson shouted, worried.
"It's just throwing a tantrum."
Herman didn't back down.
The golden glow in his eyes blazed brighter, divine power surging within him until it gradually overwhelmed the enchantments coating Mjolnir.
To Coulson, Hawkeye, and the agents watching, Herman's aura now radiated an overwhelming authority that pressed down on them like a crushing weight.
They could barely breathe.
An instinctive urge to kneel before him surged within them. None dared meet his blazing eyes.
In each of their hearts, a voice rang clear: the majesty of this god among men cannot be profaned!
"A battle on this scale..." Coulson quietly motioned his team to retreat, leading them back to a safer distance.
They pulled back several kilometers, far enough that they could no longer see into the pit without binoculars. Hawkeye and Coulson both gained a new understanding of Herman's power.
This was a true clash with an artifact—one personally blessed by Odin the All-Father. Both of them had studied Norse mythology in preparation for this.
And because of that, Herman's power shook them all the more. He had told them again and again that the Norse gods were just powerful aliens. Yet neither Coulson nor Hawkeye dared underestimate Asgard's terror.
Now, seeing this terrifying confrontation firsthand, they began to doubt Herman's words. Perhaps only someone at his level could dismiss the Norse gods as mere aliens.
They exchanged a glance and knew they were thinking the same thing.
A god among men... perhaps it wasn't just a figure of speech.
"You cannot stand against me!"
Herman gripped the handle of Mjolnir, pouring his strength into it.
Divine fire had already begun to ignite in his hands, the kind of power that could burn through all laws of existence. Yet just as he shook Mjolnir, ready to lift it, a commanding voice suddenly echoed in his ears.
"Only the worthy may wield it!"
At that moment, Herman's eyes, blazing with divine light, pierced through the runes of the hammer and saw the essence of the spell carved beneath them.
Beneath those profound runes lay nothing more than Odin's divine words. When power reached a certain level, even language itself could reshape reality.
Though Odin, as a Sky Father–level being, could not alter the cosmos with a single utterance, turning his words into a binding incantation was effortless.
The decree that only the worthy could lift the hammer was, at its core, nothing more than Odin's spoken law—an iron rule all beings weaker than him were forced to obey.
"Words become law."
Herman felt the force emanating from those words. He knew that even a partial deciphering of them would greatly benefit his growth.
"Is this the unique power of a God-King, or something all Sky Father–level beings possess?" he mused as he studied and unraveled Odin's divine utterance. On Earth, the most accessible Sky Father–level existence should be the Sorcerer Supreme of Kamar-Taj.
But Herman had no desire to approach the Ancient One, even if the identity granted by the All-Seeing Eye ensured she would notice nothing amiss.
A millennium-old recluse with a voyeur's heart... how could she not be corrupted?
Until he reached Sky Father–level himself, with the strength to overturn the board, Herman had no intention of letting anyone scheme against him.
"Either way, this is worth studying."
His divine power wrapped around every inch of Mjolnir, seeping into the hammer to parse the Odinforce etched into it, while also analyzing the weapon's very essence.
"Sizzle, sizzle—"
Naturally, Mjolnir resisted.
Yet its struggle was meaningless before Herman, like a slender maiden trying to fend off a band of hulking brutes.
No matter how it fought back, it could not stop his intrusion.
"Clatter!"
Just as Herman was about to pierce the hammer's core and unravel its entire structure, his vision blurred. The world around him suddenly shifted, and even the Mjolnir vanished from his grasp.
"What happened!?"
Through binoculars, Coulson—sunglasses shielding his eyes—saw only a towering pillar of light crash down, striking the crater where Mjolnir had been.
The pillar filled the pit completely, continuing to blaze as if forging a bridge between heaven and earth.
The fierce white brilliance nearly blinded Coulson even through his lenses. Fortunately, he'd thought to wear them earlier against the hammer's electric glare.
"Is that Thor? Or some god from Asgard?" he muttered, his expression grim as he scanned the skies, unable to pinpoint the light's origin.
"Nothing bad's going to happen, right?" Hawkeye asked, his face tight with worry.
"My past experience means nothing here," Coulson admitted, his features equally grim as he stared at the pit swallowed by the light.
"We have to trust that guy can handle this. Otherwise..." His tone grew heavy.
"We may have no choice but to prepare for war."
...
Everything blurred before his eyes.
It felt as though he had stepped into another world. Yet Herman showed no panic.
"Hm?"
He only looked around with a hint of puzzlement.
He stood on a mountain peak alive with birdsong and the fragrance of flowers, the air rich with their scent. Not far away, animals moved freely.
Wolves and rabbits coexisted; antelopes strolled alongside tigers and leopards. Every creature was calm, showing no surprise at Herman's presence.
On this mountaintop, the entire world seemed like a harmonious utopia.
"This isn't the real dimension."
Herman sensed the difference immediately. His body hadn't been brought here—only his divine consciousness, guided by some greater force.
"Sky Father–level power."
A glint flashed in his eyes.
Once again, he was confronted with the sheer gap between himself and Odin. It was far greater than he had imagined.
Even though this was only a strike against his divine consciousness, it proved beyond doubt that Odin's might vastly surpassed his own.
And of course it did.
Among Sky Father–level beings, Odin's strength was exceptional. He was a god-king so powerful he was nearly consumed by his own might.
"Odin's spiritual realm?"
Herman speculated as he took in the strange place.
Following a gravel path upward, his view suddenly opened wide as he reached the peak's edge, standing at the brink of a towering cliff where one step further would mean a plunge into the abyss.
Below, endless waves surged and roared. The base of the cliff opened into a vast ocean filled with countless sea creatures rising and falling with the tides.
Herman's gaze was drawn beyond the endless sea, where a colossal radiant palace floated in the air.
It was so vast it seemed larger than the entire United States, shining with blinding brilliance. From its center, a magnificent waterfall poured down, stretching from heaven to earth.
It was a scene so breathtaking that even a casual snapshot would be a masterpiece. Even Herman, though uninvited, couldn't help but feel awe stir in his heart.
"Beautiful, isn't it? That's where I'll live one day."
The voice came from behind—deep and steady, like an ancient bell. It carried a weight of centuries, thick with the wear of time.
Herman turned calmly.
Behind him stood an old man in simple robes, gently teasing a squirrel. He looked every bit the kindly elder, with none of the majesty one would expect of a god-king.
"I'll be living there."
After sending the squirrel on its way, Odin walked up to stand beside Herman. His eyes carried a trace of longing as he gazed toward the shining palace across the sea.
"Hopefully I'll get a decent room. As the king of Asgard, I don't think asking for my own bathroom is too much."
Odin's humor seemed sharp.
"Valhalla—the resting place of the fallen Norse gods?" Herman asked, his eyes fixed on the palace as though chatting with an old friend.
He didn't even bother asking why Odin had brought him here.
"That's how Earth's myths describe it." Odin didn't seem to mind Herman's casual attitude. His tone was light as he answered.
"Looks like a fine resting place." Herman smiled faintly at the view. He understood perfectly well that Odin, consumed by his own power, hadn't truly died.
A Sky Father–level being couldn't simply cease to exist. Like the Ancient One, Odin had only chosen to retire when the time was right.
The best proof of that was Mjolnir.
Even after Odin's passing, the hammer still carried the weight of his divine words. If Odin had truly vanished into light and nothingness, that power should have vanished with him.
"I only hope nothing comes to disturb my peace again." Odin's calm voice carried a subtle thread of worry.
Herman understood.
Odin was concerned about Thor—the reckless son who might fail to steer Asgard in the right direction. This journey to Earth was his way of teaching the boy a lesson.
Perhaps to avoid lingering on such a heavy subject, Odin suddenly shifted his tone, speaking lightly as he asked an unexpected question.
"You want that hammer? I can give you a new one." Odin clearly knew about Herman's attempt to lift Mjolnir on Earth.
Odin's Sleep? Nothing but an act. Probably only Thor and Loki, those two fools, would believe it.
Loki might be called the God of Mischief, seemingly clever beyond compare, but in truth, his wit was nothing more than petty tricks. That was one of the major reasons Odin never chose him.
Of course, Thor's greater strength and potential also played a part. Throughout this so-called "lesson in humility" staged for Thor's time on Earth, Odin had been watching closely, and the instant Herman made his "test," Odin had already responded.
Herman wasn't surprised by any of this. He had expected it.
It only confirmed the state of Odin, the King of the Gods—a deity in decline, truly at death's door, who could never have dragged Herman's divine consciousness into a void-like dimension if he were as weak as he pretended.
"Just a test," Herman said calmly. "I wanted to see what trick you used to make it so only Thor could lift it."
"And of course, I was hoping to learn something in the process." He made no effort to hide his purpose. He didn't believe a god-king who had lived tens of thousands of years could be easily fooled.
"Hahaha! Walking the path of knowledge, curious about everything—I know that feeling well. I too reached this point by walking that same path." Odin showed no displeasure at Herman's probing. On the contrary, he seemed to see a reflection of his younger self.
He clearly wasn't ignorant of Herman's existence—when Herman had ignited the divine flame and ascended, it hadn't only been the Ancient One who noticed.
As ruler of the Nine Realms, Odin's perception extended across them all.
And now, his attitude toward Herman placed him unmistakably as an equal.
"Child, as one who has walked ahead of you, allow me to give you a friendly reminder: never lose yourself in the pursuit of knowledge."
Odin's words carried no trace of threat, only sincere counsel, laced with reflection on his own past mistakes.
As he looked at Herman, Odin understood well.
This human, not even a fraction of his own age, might need only a short time to grow into a being far stronger than himself.
Odin had no doubt of it.
Because he had already seen the essence of Herman's divinity—this was the godly sovereign that blue planet had awaited for billions of years, the one destined to lead it into greatness.
...
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