Back in the top-floor office of Stark Tower.
Levi took off his coat and casually tossed it onto the sofa. Something was burning inside him—not a fever, but a deeper kind of agitation.
It itched between his bones. Every strand of muscle fiber felt like a steel cable twisted tight, stretched to the point where his skin ached. He even had the strange illusion that his skeleton was slightly too small for his body.
He walked to the bar cabinet, poured himself a glass of ice water, and downed it in one go.
The cold liquid slid down his throat into his stomach—but it couldn't extinguish the fire.
It was hunger.
Not for food—but a craving at the cellular level.
His cells needed energy. Needed release. Needed an outlet for this newborn power.
He closed his eyes, senses expanding infinitely.
This sensation was hundreds of times stronger than what the Super Soldier Serum had granted him. Too much information. Too chaotic. Like countless needles piercing into his brain.
He couldn't stay here.
In a flash, he vanished from the office. The next second, he appeared three hundred meters underground—in his private training chamber.
Tony had built it specifically for him. The walls were layered with lead and vibranium composite, blocking all forms of surveillance. In the center stood a massive punching bag—not an ordinary one. Its outer shell was a specialized alloy Tony boasted could withstand armor-piercing rounds. Inside was ultra-dense polymer filling. Total weight: over ten tons.
Before, without activating [Infinite Rage], even his full-strength punch could only leave a shallow dent.
Now—
It felt different.
He stepped forward, planted his feet, inhaled deeply. Air flooded into his lungs like fuel igniting a furnace.
No fighting stance.
Just a casual punch.
His fist broke through the air without even a whistle.
Thud.
A muted sound, compressed to the extreme.
His fist sank into the alloy bag effortlessly—his entire forearm disappearing inside. No violent collision. It felt more like a hot knife slicing through butter.
He pulled his arm back out.
A smooth, deep hole remained.
The alloy around the opening hadn't torn—it had collapsed inward under unimaginable pressure, compacted to dozens of times its previous density. Its surface gleamed like obsidian, cold and unyielding.
Levi looked at his fist.
Not a scratch. Not even redness.
His strength hadn't skyrocketed absurdly—but it had qualitatively transformed.
If before his punch was a battering ram, now it was a neutron star compressed to its limit. Not just kinetic impact—but mass and density crushing everything in its path.
He thought of the Hulk. That brute's strength came from rage, theoretically limitless. Now Levi possessed a ridiculously high baseline constant.
Next time they met, perhaps he could stand still and let Hulk punch him a few times—see whether Hulk's fists were harder, or his recovery stronger.
He rolled his neck. Bone joints cracked crisply in succession.
His lifespan had changed too.
He could feel it—time's erosion slowing, nearly halting.
This wasn't longevity from a healing factor. Nor delayed aging from the Super Soldier Serum.
This was a leap in lifeform hierarchy.
Like Odin. Like the Asgardians who had lived for thousands of years. Time was no longer poison—it was wine, deepening power with age.
The older they grew, the stronger they became.
As he continued sensing the changes in his body, thunder rumbled outside.
A sudden storm swept across New York. Dark clouds pressed low. The sky dimmed as though it were dusk. Heavy raindrops battered the reinforced glass of Stark Tower.
Levi's heart stirred.
He could feel the free-floating electric charges in the air—unusually lively.
Like they were cheering.
Calling to him.
He vanished again—reappearing atop Stark Tower.
Wind and rain drenched him instantly. The cold water struck his face, yet felt invigorating. Lightning tore through the clouds like silver serpents, illuminating the steel jungle of the city. The air reeked of ozone.
He spread his arms, tilted his head back, and let the storm wash over him.
An instinct rooted deep in his blood urged him to raise his right hand toward the roiling thunderclouds.
As if demanding tribute.
"BOOM!"
A bolt of lightning thicker than all the previous ones combined roared down from the heavens—ignoring the lightning rods—targeting Levi's outstretched hand.
The instant it struck, time seemed to slow.
There was no pain.
Only overwhelming exhilaration.
Like a dried riverbed flooded anew. Like a city reconnecting to power after blackout. Violent arcs of electricity surged through him—but instead of damage, they were tamed, absorbed, assimilated.
The Asgardian divine power within him boiled.
The Super Soldier Serum amplified its potential. The Space Stone's energy stabilized its foundation.
Now, natural lightning became the final catalyst.
He felt his genetic code rewriting itself.
Every cell transformed amid silent jubilation.
This was no longer mere Asgardian physiology. Asgard was only a racial template.
Through the fusion of multiple apex powers, Levi shattered that template.
He became something purer. More fundamental. Less constrained.
The system's cold voice sounded in his mind, summarizing the metamorphosis.
[Asgardian Physiology] → Upgraded to [Divine Physiology].
Levi's eyes snapped open.
Golden lightning flickered briefly in their depths.
His ceiling was no longer Odin.
His ceiling was infinite.
The storm ceased without warning. Clouds dispersed. Moonlight returned.
Levi looked at his hand. Faint electric arcs still crackled across his skin.
The violent revolution of his body had transitioned into quiet refinement.
He lifted his gaze—locking onto a lightning rod atop a distant skyscraper nearly a kilometer away.
He raised his index finger, aiming remotely. Electricity gathered at the tip.
A gentle flick.
A golden thread of lightning, thinner than a hair, shot silently across the night sky.
The next second, the specialized-alloy lightning rod—built to withstand millions of volts—vanished without a trace.
Levi lowered his hand, satisfied.
He returned to his office, changed into dry clothes, and poured himself a glass of whiskey. The liquor burned pleasantly as it went down.
…
Late at night.
He powered on his computer and accessed S.H.I.E.L.D.'s internal database using his "Special Consultant" clearance.
He pulled up Coulson's full follow-up report on the New Mexico incident.
The report was amusing—laced with Coulson's understated humor.
Stripped of his power, Thor had caused no shortage of comedic incidents while staying with Jane Foster's team. He had entered a pet store asking to buy a steed fit for battle. At a diner, after finishing coffee, he smashed the mug onto the floor and shouted, "Another!" nearly getting himself thrown out.
Levi chuckled.
A thousand-year-old god learning how to be mortal.
Better than any Hollywood comedy.
He scrolled further.
A newly uploaded encrypted file marked URGENT caught his attention.
Title: Second High-Energy Event in Puente Antiguo & Unidentified Individual Sighting Report.
He opened it.
Concise—but heavy with implication.
Hours earlier, the town had experienced another Bifrost energy surge.
Attached was a blurry gas station surveillance image.
A slender man in a tailored black suit stepped out of a rented Ford. Pale. Long black hair. A faint, knowing smirk.
Loki.
Levi paused mid-sip.
The real show was beginning.
Thor's brother. God of Lies and Mischief. Come to visit his foolish, headstrong sibling.
And with him—
The Destroyer.
Asgard's ultimate weapon. A mindless engine of annihilation.
Levi swirled the amber liquid in his glass. Ice clinked softly.
"Perfect timing."
He leaned back in his leather chair, a smile curling on his lips—eerily similar to the one on Loki's face in the photograph.
"Let's see what this new body can really do."
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