Sadly, Daniel never located the vault of Asgard's Treasury in the end.
Still, he had scouted enough of the realm to plant a teleport anchor; he just needed to reach one "iconic landmark" recognized by the system and activate it.
He'd already done the same in Nick Fury's office back at S.H.I.E.L.D. (talk about an awkward fast-travel point).
Not every place qualified; so far only S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ, Midtown High, and Stark Tower counted. The last two were still unchecked, leaving Fury's office as his only active gateway.
After wandering a bit longer without spotting Thor, a squad of golden-armored guards approached and announced that "suitable quarters" had been prepared for the honored guest.
Daniel followed, expecting a guest wing.
Instead, they led him to an entire palace—his palace now, gifted outright with permanent rights.
Yeah, Asgardians really do treat gold like gravel.
The next morning, Thor dropped from the sky in a crackle of lightning, Mjölnir spinning lazily at his side.
"Everything settled?" Daniel asked.
Thor nodded grimly. "Father is awake. He knows what Loki did and has sentenced him to a century in the dungeon."
"Rough. At least your brother has a long-term hobby now."
A hundred years is nothing to sneeze at when you live thousands, but for Odin it was basically royal grounding. Blood—or adopted blood—still mattered.
Thor sighed, eyes red. "The Loki I grew up with would never… How did he fall so far?"
He'd stress-eaten an entire roasted lamb the night before while crying into his mead.
Daniel shrugged. "Classic rebellious phase. Sometimes a kid just needs a good jolt to get his head straight."
"Jolt?" Thor blinked.
"Worked on you, didn't it? Look how bright your eyes are now."
"…"
"And if one shock doesn't take, keep shocking until he apologizes."
Thor rubbed his chin. "I… see. I will consider this wisdom."
Then he remembered why he'd actually come.
"Right! Tonight we feast in the Great Hall of the Golden Palace! You must come, my friend!"
"Wouldn't miss it," Daniel said instantly. The system had flagged the Great Hall itself as an anchor point—perfect timing.
Thor suddenly squinted at the corner of the room.
"Is that… the Casket of Ancient Winters? And Gungnir?!"
Daniel followed his gaze, then slapped his thigh in theatrical outrage. "That tricky little—Loki must have planted them here to frame me! God of Mischief, am I right?"
Thor: "…"
Bro, you're not fooling anyone.
In the end Thor reclaimed both relics—neither would fit in Daniel's inventory anyway; like Mjölnir, they had anti-theft runes out the wazoo, and their wield requirements were even pickier. Only proper spoils of war (like the Destroyer armor) could be yoinked.
That evening Daniel stepped into the Golden Palace proper, the blazing heart of Asgard.
Everything was gold. Gold floors, gold pillars, gold teeth on the guards—seriously, the place made Dubai look frugal.
He was halfway through picking which guard looked richest when the Warriors Three barreled toward him like a trio of overexcited golden retrievers.
With them as guides, it still took nearly an hour of twisting corridors to reach the banquet hall.
"Thor's house is stupid big," Daniel muttered. "Doesn't he ever get lost?"
Fandral laughed. "All the time when he was little."
"In the palace?"
"No, in his own bedroom."
Ten more minutes of walking and the massive golden gates finally swung open.
Inside, hundreds of Asgardians roared with laughter, tore into roasted beasts, and chugged from tankards the size of buckets. Minus the horned helmets, it could've been a frat party on steroids.
The Warriors Three grabbed fresh mugs, drained them in one go, then smashed them on the floor with a triumphant crash.
Asgardian custom: great drink, destroyed mug.
Daniel made a mental note that opening a pottery shop here would make him richer than Tony Stark.
"Come, Daniel! Drink!" Volstagg bellowed, belly wobbling with excitement.
"Pass. But I do have one bottle… If you three can finish it, I'll join you for real."
The Warriors Three laughed so hard they nearly choked.
"One bottle? I drink barrels for breakfast!"
"Bring ten!"
"I'll finish it alone and still carry you both home!"
Five minutes later—thud, thud, thud.
Asgard's mightiest trio face-planted into their plates, snoring like broken fog horns.
Daniel capped the Infinite Flask with a smirk. Random ultra-proof liquor on tap—turns out even Asgardian constitutions have limits when you shotgun aquavit, absinthe, and something that might qualify as rocket fuel in quick succession.
"Lightweights," he muttered, and went to find the spot that would finally unlock Asgard on his fast-travel map.