The desert air screamed as twelve metal spikes, forged from heavy car axles and propelled by Leo's focused kinetic energy, tore through the atmosphere. They weren't just falling; they were guided missiles, each carrying the weight of a freight train concentrated into a single, needle-sharp point.
CRACK—BOOM!
The impact was deafening. A massive sonic boom rippled outward, shattering the windows of the nearby diner as the three-meter-tall Destroyer was slammed into the asphalt. The force was so immense that the ground buckled, forming a deep, jagged crater in the shape of the armor.
Leo narrowed his eyes, hovering a dozen meters above. He watched as eleven of his spikes pancaked against the dark Uru-metal surface. They didn't pierce; they simply flattened into useless silver discs, unable to find a flaw in the divine smithing of Odin's vault. However, the twelfth spike—aimed with surgical precision—managed to bite into the flexible joint of the neck, embedding itself a few inches deep.
'There,' Leo thought, his eyes glowing. 'The articulation. Even a god-tier machine needs a hinge.'
He clenched his fist, and the eleven flattened discs rose from the dust. In mid-air, they began to glow red-hot, melting and reshaping under the pressure of his will. They fused into three larger, denser spikes, one of which flattened at its tip into a broad, shovel-like blade.
Below him, the Destroyer began to hum—a low, vibrating growl that shook the very air. Orange light, looking like molten lava, bled from its joints and converged toward its face. The spike in its neck didn't just fall out; it was vaporized by the sheer heat of the energy transmission, the external half melting into a puddle of slag.
A blinding beam of pure destruction shot upward.
Leo dove. He angled his body, the heat of the passing ray singeing the air where he had been a millisecond before. The Destroyer tracked him, its head sweeping in a wide arc, the beam cutting through a nearby brick building like a hot wire through wax. Leo danced through the air, sidestepping the sweeps with the grace of a bird, his focus entirely on the machine's movements.
He saw the opening. Two of his newly forged heavy spikes shot from behind the Destroyer, targeting the back of the neck. The first hit staggered the machine, causing its visor to flicker and the energy beam to waver. Before it could recover, the second spike slammed home, driving deep into the joint.
But even this wasn't enough. The internal furnace of the machine was so hot that the steel spike began to glow and droop, the energy within it being absorbed or melted away before it could sever any internal components. Three seconds later, the Destroyer's energy output finally dipped, the destructive ray sputtering out as its internal reserves cycled.
Leo didn't give it a chance to recharge. He snapped his hands out. One spike shot upward to draw its attention, while the other liquified into a thick metal wire noose. It whipped around the Destroyer's legs, cinching tight. With a violent backward pull, Leo tripped the giant.
As the armor lunged forward, Leo slammed a heavy spike into its upper back. The Destroyer crashed face-first into the street, creating another massive crater that sent a cloud of debris into the air. The spike successfully pierced the neck joint from behind, causing the machine to "misfire"—a muffled explosion of orange energy sparked inside its head, venting harmlessly into the dirt.
The giant metal shovel Leo had prepared transformed into a black streak, diving toward the neck with the intent to decapitate the beast once and for all.
At the town's entrance, the battle was a chaotic mess of magic and steel. The civilians had long since fled, guided by Jane, Erik, and Darcy. Only the core group remained, staring in awe at the localized earthquake happening at the edge of town.
Sif and the Warriors Three didn't wait for an invitation. Seeing the Destroyer temporarily pinned by some invisible, golden-masked force, they charged.
Sif led the way, her Uru-metal spear gleaming. Volstagg followed with a roar, his heavy battle-axe raised high. Hogun's chained flail whistled through the air, and Fandral moved like a blur with his sword and shield.
Thor stood back, his heart racing. He couldn't see Leo—the boy was positioned high and shielded by the glare of the sun—but he saw the results of his work. He saw the metal manipulating itself like a living thing.
"My friends, stay back!" Thor shouted, but his voice was lost in the din of combat.
The Destroyer reacted with terrifying fluidity. Its body glowed a deep, angry crimson. In a move that defied human anatomy, its arms rotated three hundred and sixty degrees, joining together to block the metal shovel-blade Leo had sent screaming toward its neck. The machine's entire internal structure reversed, shifting from facing the ground to facing the sky in a single, grinding motion.
A short-range energy burst erupted from its chest, melting the wire noose around its feet into ash. It stood up, its visor scanning the sky, searching for the "pest" that was harassing it.
High above in the Golden Palace of Asgard, Loki sat upon the throne, his knuckles white as he gripped Gungnir. His jaw was set in a hard line.
'That brat again,' Loki hissed to himself. 'Always interfering. No matter. I didn't send the Destroyer to fight a child.'
Loki turned the machine's focus back to the primary target: Thor.
Sif lunged forward just as the Destroyer finished its sweep. She drove her double-edged spear into the neck joint, right where Leo had softened it. The weapon held. Because it was made of Uru, it didn't melt; it acted as a lightning rod, interrupting the energy flow.
Leo, watching from a distance, realized that ordinary metal was a lost cause. He could batter the machine all day, but he couldn't break it. He dropped the remaining car parts and reached out with both hands, focusing every ounce of his telekinetic power on the Destroyer's internal frame.
He tried to seize the core. But the armor was blessed by Odin's own hand. Faint, shimmering colorful patterns—the protection of the Allfather—rippled across the metal surface. It didn't stop Leo's control, but it made the machine feel... slippery. It was as if the Destroyer was coated in a thick, oily film of divine energy, making it nearly impossible for Leo to get a solid grip on the atoms.
The Destroyer swiped a massive arm, swatting Sif aside like she was a bothersome insect. She hit a parked truck with a sickening thud. Before the Warriors Three could react, a destructive ray blasted the ground between them, the explosion sending all three flying in opposite directions, their armor scorched and cracked.
The machine moved with renewed speed now, its beams forcing the Asgardians to dodge frantically. They were warriors of a thousand battles, but without their own divine power, they were struggling just to stay alive.
Thor watched Sif crawl toward her fallen spear, her face bruised and bloody. He looked at Fandral and Hogun, who were struggling to stand, and Volstagg, who was panting heavily.
He looked at Jane, who was watching him with wide, terrified eyes from behind a brick wall.
In that moment, a profound silence seemed to fall over Thor's mind. For centuries, he had defined himself by the hammer. He had defined himself by how many enemies he could crush, how much glory he could hoard, and how many wars he could win. He had walked into Jotunheim looking for a fight because he thought that was what a King did.
He realized now how horribly, tragically wrong he had been.
A King wasn't the one who started the war; a King was the one who was willing to end it, no matter the cost to himself. He saw his friends bleeding because of his arrogance. He saw an innocent town being leveled because of his sins.
Thor stepped forward, past the fallen Sif, past the rubble, and walked straight toward the towering machine of death.
"Thor, no!" Jane screamed, but he didn't stop.
Leo, hovering above, felt the shift in the air. He slowed his assault, his hands still trembling with the effort of holding the Destroyer's movements back, watching the mortal prince walk to his death.
Thor stopped just a few feet from the Destroyer. The machine's visor opened, the orange fire within beginning to swirl as it prepared to vaporize him.
"Brother," Thor said, his voice calm and clear, echoing through the empty street. "Whatever I did to you, whatever slights or arrogance I showed that led you to this... I am truly sorry. My heart was small, and my pride was too great."
In the Great Hall, Loki's hand trembled on Gungnir. He watched through the Destroyer's eyes, seeing his brother—unarmed, unarmored, and humble—offering himself up. For a fleeting second, the cold mask of the King slipped, and the hurt younger brother looked out.
"But these people are innocent," Thor continued, his eyes meeting the machine's visor. "They have no part in our quarrel. Killing them serves no purpose, Loki. It brings no glory to the throne."
The Destroyer's head tilted slightly. The energy hummed, but it didn't fire.
"Take my life," Thor said, a small, sad smile playing on his lips. "End this here. Let the rest go."
Thor stood tall, his arms at his sides. He thought of Jane's laugh, of Leo's mysterious wisdom, of Erik's cautious friendship. He realized that protection was the highest calling of a ruler. He was ready.
As the orange light in the Destroyer's face began to dim, Thor felt a surge of hope. He thought Loki had listened. He thought the brother he loved was still in there somewhere.
But the Destroyer wasn't powering down. It was shifting.
Loki's face in the Golden Palace hardened, his eyes turning cold and dark once more. He couldn't go back now. He had gone too far.
The Destroyer didn't fire its beam. Instead, it swung its massive, heavy palm with a brutal, mechanical speed.