The one who seized Gungnir was, of course, Herman, who had been trailing along the whole time.
Naturally, Herman wouldn't use Odin's weapon to kill Odin's son without cause. He was simply using Gungnir's properties as a tracking tool.
But Thor didn't know that.
He saw Gungnir, then the powerful hand holding it, and immediately thought his father had changed his mind.
"Father still loves me after all!"
That was the very first thought that flashed through Thor's mind. Like Loki, he was nothing more than an overgrown child—seemingly mature, yet endlessly craving his parents' approval.
Tears welled in his eyes. To him, no one but his father Odin could possibly stop a hurled Gungnir.
"I was wrong! I really know I was wrong! I shouldn't have hidden this from you..." Thor began sobbing, snot and tears streaming down as he knelt to the ground.
But then.
When he finally looked closely, Thor's expression froze. Following the hand along Gungnir, he did not see his majestic father.
Instead, he saw a stranger—a young man, completely unfamiliar, utterly absurd in Thor's eyes—gripping the spear.
And his features.
They were definitely not those of an Asgardian!
"How is this possible!?"
An even stronger terror surged in Thor's chest.
Not only because Odin's weapon was in the hands of someone he didn't know, but because the runes on Gungnir were glowing. That meant this man had been acknowledged by the spear itself!
Thor couldn't comprehend what he was seeing.
Other than Odin himself, who else could possibly gain Gungnir's recognition? This was a divine weapon even he, Odin's own son, had never been able to truly wield! Could it be his father had lent the spear to some trusted warrior?
Thor, never one to think too deeply, could only land on that explanation.
But...
"I don't know him!"
Thor had met every one of Odin's trusted retainers, and he was certain this man wasn't among them. Asgard had no one with dark hair and dark eyes like his. Thor was absolutely sure—if he'd seen this man before, he would never have forgotten him.
After all...
He had always taken pride in his physique. Yet the man before him had proportions that even Thor couldn't help but envy.
"Hahaha! Thor? The God of Thunder?" Herman's face lit up with amusement. He never expected to find Thor here of all places, dressed in a skimpy, backless outfit, clearly performing a striptease for the crowd.
That physique twisting like that was downright sultry.
"Homelander!"
"It's the Homelander!"
The chaotic audience, having dodged falling chunks of concrete, quickly turned toward the stage. They saw Herman, cloaked in black, standing before Thor with a gleaming spear in hand—and countless women, along with men of questionable tastes, screamed in excitement.
"Too noisy."
Herman gripped Gungnir tightly, staring down at the frenzied crowd. He knew ordinary methods wouldn't be enough to scare this drugged-up mob.
Some were so far gone they tried climbing onto the stage, one even reaching for his thigh. Herman kicked him back into the mass of bodies below. He hated scenes like this.
"One-minute countdown. Anyone still here after that will stay forever." To make sure they heard him clearly, Herman raised his hand. Gungnir shot out like a launched projectile, piercing straight through the nightclub's projector.
Sparks and fire burst from the wreckage.
The music stopped dead.
The entire venue fell into sudden silence. Those who had been shouting seconds ago were startled into stillness.
"Home—"
One slow-witted fan tried to start chanting again, but Herman hurled a spear straight through the glowing sign she was holding.
The girl's face went pale with fright.
"Final warning. Leave now, or stay here forever... Does anyone actually want to stay?"
Herman swept his gaze across the crowd.
Golden light flared in his eyes.
The intimidation was overwhelming.
Not that he actually intended to slaughter them all.
But after his earlier success scaring people off around Mjolnir, he figured it was worth trying again.
And sure enough...
The effect was just as devastating.
As the crowd came back to their senses, they saw Herman standing tall, oppressive in presence, his golden eyes gleaming with a pressure that crushed them to their core. Fear gripped them, making many want to grovel at his feet. Nearly everyone felt suffocated, crushed beneath his aura.
Herman hadn't even taken real action.
Yet the mob was already wetting themselves in terror.
Many who were high sobered up instantly—it was the Homelander! The Homelander who would massacre without hesitation!
"Run!"
"The Homelander's going to kill us!"
...
The iconic scene by the pit repeated itself.
Countless spectators scattered in panic, even the strippers collapsed around the dance floor rolled and crawled their way out.
Soon. the entire nightclub was deserted, save for Herman and Thor—the owner had been the first to bolt. With the place finally cleared, Herman turned his attention back to the God of Thunder, still frozen in shock.
"It's time we talked."
Gungnir in Herman's hand dissolved into radiant light, reverting into the ring on his finger.
"Did my father send you?"
Thor's eyes locked onto Herman's palm, onto that all-too-familiar ring—one that had never once shown him its allegiance.
At that moment, Thor's thoughts spun out of control. Could this man, who looked like he came from Midgard, really be the heir Odin had chosen to rule Asgard next?
Otherwise, why would Gungnir obey him so completely? To favor an outsider over his own son... Thor felt a wave of bleak despair wash over him.
Well. That was Thor for you.
It wasn't strange for his mind to twist this way. He couldn't grasp that in a monarchy, no outsider could ever be chosen as heir.
"Thor, God of Thunder? I have to say, seeing you like this is even more unbelievable than the illustrations I saw in the mythology books.
And mind you, I bought the 'not suitable for children' edition of Norse mythology."
Herman eyed Thor's sultry outfit with open astonishment and mockery. He didn't bother answering Thor's question, only sneered at him.
"What did you say!"
Thor might be thickheaded, but he wasn't stupid. He caught the derision in Herman's tone instantly.
"Damn you! Who are you!? No matter what, I am Odin's son! You owe me at least the most basic respect!"
Shame and rage burned inside Thor at Herman's mockery.
This outfit... anyone who wore it knew the humiliation. Thor had comforted himself with the thought that no one in Midgard recognized him—only for Herman to call him out directly. The sting of exposure made him feel utterly mortified, but he still forced himself to confront Herman.
Yet his voice, strained as he tried to sound firm, couldn't hide the edge of anger. Thor had always been hot-tempered.
Yes. Dancing here was just to survive. Of course he was ashamed. And hearing Herman's words only rubbed salt in the wound.
"Respect? Look at yourself... You think you deserve respect? Or are you planning to give me one of your little dances?"
Herman let out a cold laugh. Acting was second nature to him—after all, a director who couldn't act was no good director.
"You bastard!"
Thor's blood rushed to his head. Forgetting he no longer had his divine power, he lunged forward, intent on ripping Herman's clothes off and teaching him a lesson.
But Herman wasn't about to let Thor get his way.
"Odin's son? Even Odin himself fell by my hand. What right do you have to take pride in that title?"
Herman grabbed Thor's arm. With a light twist and a firm press, he forced Thor to his knees in pain.
"I don't believe you! The All-Father could never be defeated! You damned wretch! How did you get Gungnir!?"
Thor's first reaction to Herman's words was pure denial.
Even half-kneeling, one arm wrenched painfully behind his back, he still fought back with all his strength, roaring in rage.
But the truth was—his defiance was only words.
Because the image of Gungnir in Herman's hands lingered in his mind. Thor's thoughts were already in chaos.
He just didn't dare face the cruelest possibility... under what circumstances could a king's weapon fall into the hands of someone unworthy?
"Impossible? Hahaha, Thor, you've traveled to many places across the Nine Realms—do you really think you understand this world completely?"
Herman's voice carried a hint of contempt.
"How much of the world have you truly seen? What do you know of real possibility? Odin has already been slain by me, along with all of Asgard. This weapon is my spoils of war. Now, it's your turn—the last remaining Asgardian."
Director Herman's staging of this "metamorphosis" was absolutely professional. His acting was masterful, especially his portrayal of a grand villain, which was utterly convincing. The panicked crowd that had just fled was the best proof of that.
Odin's gift was definitely worth Herman stepping in to personally direct this "metamorphosis."
"Impossible! Impossible! Damned Midgardian! The might of the Father God could never be…"
The more terrified and unsettled Thor felt, the louder he roared.
However, before he could finish his words, Herman grabbed his arm and hurled him violently toward the shattered ceiling, then immediately launched himself upward after him.
The Thunder God tumbled through layers of crumbling concrete and brick, only to be flung by Herman straight into the sky above the nightclub.
He collided with and killed a bird before vanishing into the clouds—and just as he was about to fall, Thor looked on in horror as Herman soared into the clouds after him.
"Don't worry, I won't kill you right away. I'll torture you properly, let you taste the despair of neither living nor dying."
Above the clouds, Herman seized Thor again and hurled him away. Helpless, Thor was flung farther and farther into the distance.
The speed rivaled that of a supersonic missile.
Thor's lips trembled violently in the biting gale, as if being torn apart, the howling wind rushing in and forcing guttural gurgles from his throat.
"Clatter—"
Thor had no idea how far he'd been hurled or how long he'd lingered in the bitter cold. All he knew was that his entire body felt frozen solid.
He shivered uncontrollably, as though trapped in the coldest place across the Nine Realms.
Damned mortal flesh!
In despair, Thor only wished to die like a warrior. He no longer cared whether his father had fallen to the one toying with him. All he wanted now was a death with dignity and honor.
"Kill me if you dare! My brother will avenge me!" Thor bellowed, his words garbled as icy winds poured into his mouth.
"Didn't you hear me? You are the last Asgardian!"
Herman suddenly appeared above Thor, planting his foot squarely on Thor's face—for a more "authentic" metamorphosis experience—and stomped him down through the clouds.
Thor's body plummeted like a kite with its string cut, falling straight through the mist and hurtling toward the scorched, yellow earth below.
"Crash—"
Thor slammed into the roof of a tent, crushing it completely before landing face-first inside.
Countless figures clad in white scrambled away in terror. Thor's face struck the ground, the pain sharp and crushing, as though his own hammer had smashed across his face.
At last, he understood what his foes had felt when he sent them flying with Mjolnir.
And it wasn't just his face.
His whole body screamed with agony, as though it were breaking apart. A fall from such a height should have killed any ordinary person.
But Thor's body remained intact. His divine power and strength may have been sealed, but his divine flesh still endured. Added to that was Herman's telekinetic control, precisely adjusting the force of the impact.
"Thor, the God of Thunder."
Herman landed heavily nearby, his voice cold and mocking. "Helpless as a dog. What a disappointment."
His imposing black cloak billowed behind him, his presence oppressive, his voice icy as though he truly were some terrifying demon lord.
Coulson, rushing to the scene, immediately signaled his agents to retreat.
"Is that Thor?"
Coulson understood perfectly what Herman was doing. Before leaving, he gave Thor one last lingering look, marveling at how the Norse god's attire was unlike anything he'd ever seen.
Like a stripper.
"What? Can't move?"
Herman watched Thor sprawled on the ground, knowing the pain made it hard for him to even breathe. Yet he still stepped forward and kicked him hard in the stomach.
Force level: 3.5—perfectly controlled.
The blow made Thor retch up bile. When he crashed back to the ground, he landed right in front of Mjolnir.
"Cough, cough—"
Thor felt his stomach churning violently. Crawling across the ground, he coughed uncontrollably, spitting up a mix of saliva and stomach acid.
The pain was so overwhelming he couldn't even open his eyes, and so he completely missed Herman's calculated setup.
No choice.
Herman had to add a little drama himself.
"Look! Isn't that your hammer? Pick it up! Show me... what kind of power the Norse God of War really has!"
Herman put on the act of a battle-hungry madman, eager for a fight.
"Hammer?"
Thor heard Herman's words.
He finally forced his eyelids open, and his heart jolted—there, not far from him, lay his beloved Mjolnir.
In that instant, Thor felt hope surge through him.
He believed he could finally reclaim his divine power and once again become Asgard's Thunder God.
"I cannot die like this! I must avenge Asgard!"
Thor truly believed Herman's taunt. With immense effort, he began crawling toward Mjolnir.
Normally, Herman would never have given him the chance. In fact, no intelligent enemy would.
But now… Herman wasn't just holding back—he was holding back like a tidal wave.
He simply stood there, watching Thor crawl, agonizingly slow. While waiting, he even popped a piece of gum into his mouth.
"You..."
Thor had no idea what Herman was really doing. His heart burned with fury toward him, fully immersed in the script Herman had woven.
"You'll regret this!"
Thor's emotions surged wildly as he roared, stretching out his hand toward Mjolnir's handle.