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*****
Loki, who had been humiliatingly attempting to devise an escape plan, watched the scene unfold with a touch of surprise. He fell silent, his eyes narrowing as he tried to discern the identity of the figure on the screen.
"Master!"
The Chitauri Leader knelt abruptly upon the floor, bowing his head in a deep, subservient greeting toward the individual displayed on the monitor.
Loki squinted, studying the silhouette. He noted the distinctive, craggy ridges of the figure's chin—it looked remarkably like a giant purple sweet potato. His mind raced, cataloging every piece of cosmic lore he knew to identify the man.
"Who is he?"
Upon establishing the video link, Thanos immediately spotted Loki standing beside the Chitauri Leader and spoke in a low, resonant tone.
"Just a fool who managed to sneak aboard the ship. I was just about to deal with him!" the Chitauri Leader replied hastily, his voice trembling with a need to please.
"No, I am a guest. Our meeting was simply... less than cordial," Loki interjected.
As the saying goes, a man might be given a wrong name, but never a wrong nickname. In Asgard, Loki was known as the God of Mischief; silver-tongued lies and elegant rhetoric came to him as naturally as breathing.
At that moment, he subtly disabled the restraints on his body and stood up with practiced grace. Compared to the nervous, kneeling Chitauri Leader, Loki carried himself with the poise of a true sovereign.
Seeing Loki break free, the Chitauri Leader panicked and scrambled to his feet, intent on seizing him again. However, Thanos stopped him with a single sharp look. He turned his attention back to Loki, asking with a hint of genuine interest:
"And does this 'guest' have a name and title?"
"But of course."
Loki bowed politely, performing a flawless Asgardian court salute. "I am Loki, Son of Odin, Prince of Asgard, and the God of Mischief. Might I have the honor of knowing your name?"
Despite his deep-seated resentment toward Odin's favoritism, Loki did not hesitate to invoke his father's name. He knew well that in the vast reaches of the universe, Odin's reputation served as a formidable shield.
"A Prince of the Asgardians..."
Thanos scrutinized Loki, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he responded simply, "I am Thanos."
"Thanos!?"
Loki's mind churned through fragments of rumors and forbidden knowledge. Eventually, the name clicked into place, connecting with the image of a cosmic overlord who had been relentlessly invading and expanding throughout the galaxy.
However, that was the extent of his knowledge. To the self-important Asgardians, most cosmic "warlords" were viewed with nothing but disdain.
But Loki was no fool; the current situation did not allow for arrogance. Instead, he adopted an even more respectful demeanor. "So, it is Lord Thanos. Even in Asgard, your glorious reputation is often spoken of!"
"Oh?"
Thanos looked at Loki, an amused expression playing on his face. "And why would a Prince find himself in a place like this?"
Loki's thoughts spun wildly as he weighed his options. He wasn't sure if news of his disappearance over the last eight months had been circulated by Asgard. Ultimately, he decided on a blend of truth and lies.
"I was exiled. They imprisoned me here."
"Are you not a Prince?" Thanos asked, momentarily taken aback. He was clearly unaware of the specifics of Loki's fall from grace—a fact likely due to Asgard's tendency to keep their "family scandals" strictly private.
"Because I wished to become a King," Loki replied, spreading his hands in a gesture of feigned helplessness.
"So, in reality, you are a prisoner. You have simply been transferred from Asgard's custody to mine," Thanos said, resting his head on his hand as he looked down at Loki.
"On the contrary, I believe I should be your friend—a friendly guest capable of fighting your battles and offering strategic counsel." Loki flashed a charming, deceptive smile.
Thanos remained silent for a long moment, pondering the offer. Finally, he turned back to the Chitauri Leader. "Bring him to me."
Having issued the command, he continued, "Did you find the object?"
"My apologies, Master. According to the intelligence you provided, there was nothing there," the Chitauri Leader replied, collapsing back into a kneeling position in terror.
"If it's not there, so be it."
Thanos waved it off dismissively. The intelligence regarding the location of the Infinity Stone had been unreliable from the start. He had only sent a scouting party to be certain, though he hadn't truly expected results.
With one last glance at Loki, Thanos cut the communication.
Standing to the side, Loki began to plot. It was evident that Thanos was searching for something—and the fact that he would deploy a Chitauri legion to find it meant the object was of immense power.
Loki's ambition burned. He still sought to prove himself right; he needed power, and he needed to return to Asgard as a conqueror.
The moment the screen went dark, the Chitauri Leader's submissive act vanished. He turned toward Loki, his face contorting into a sneer of superiority.
"The Master wants to see you, but he didn't specify in what condition. I suggest you stay quiet and cause no trouble. Guards!"
"I look forward to meeting Lord Thanos," Loki replied, offering an awkward yet polite smile. Internally, the sting of humiliation only strengthened his resolve to eventually seize this army for himself.
After being shoved into a dilapidated, filthy room by the guards, Loki lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. His loneliness and bitterness were masked by a cold, calculating gaze.
He shook his head, focusing on the faint, flickering magical connection he shared with Earth. He frowned; it was getting weaker. Originally, this connection was his last hope for escape, but now that he had encountered the Chitauri, he had a more stable path forward.
Still, Loki did not sever the magical thread. Perhaps, one day, it would prove useful.
Time slipped away unnoticed. Fyne had been on Vormir for over five months now. Since arriving in November, the calendar had turned to April of the following year.
After more than a hundred and fifty days, Fyne's appearance remained largely unchanged, but his mental state was no longer as calm as it once was.
"That guy Nick Fury... he couldn't have stopped the Tesseract research, could he?"
Standing at the edge of the sacrificial altar's cliff, Fyne muttered to himself in doubt. "Even without Fury, Loki should be able to trigger it from the other side. Could I have guessed wrong?"
Through five months of hellish training, his system's experience bar was nearly full again. It wouldn't be long before he could draw his seventh skill. With the goal in sight, his longing for home grew more urgent.
Fyne worriedly considered whether he should ask the Ancient One to check on the Space Stone the next time she came to visit him.
Gazing out at the unchanging, desolate landscape, Fyne summoned a Fried Chicken Roll and began his breakfast.
Last month, after countless daily summons, the "Sumire Fried Chicken Roll" had finally evolved. To Fyne's surprise, the new attribute was "Minor Healing."
While the effect wasn't overwhelming—merely boosting the natural recovery rate slightly—the increasing versatility of his kit pleased him.
He was now a true all-rounder: he could tank, deal damage, fight at close quarters or at range, buff himself, heal, and he even had a pet. No matter what a team lacked, he could fill the gap.
(End of Chapter)