Fury watched the Destroyer march closer, his mind still heavy with thoughts of humanity's future.
On a cosmic scale, Earth was nothing. A backwater of a backwater.
If the writers outside the Fourth Wall weren't humans themselves, Earthlings would never have gotten the protagonist role.
"It really is terrifying. That Destroyer."
A voice spoke up from behind Fury. He turned to see Tony Stark emerging from the shadows.
Tony had just arrived. He came for one reason: to watch the fight between Thor and the Destroyer firsthand.
The video clip in the diary had made him uneasy. Seeing the Destroyer's power on screen was one thing, but Tony needed to gauge the threat level in person.
So he flew here. Personally.
His speed beat Lucas by a mile. Why? Because Tony Stark had a private jet. He didn't do layovers, TSA checks, or economy seating. He just got on his plane and flew straight to the destination.
Sorry, having money means I can do whatever I want.
So while Lucas was still shaking dust off his clothes from the bus ride, Tony was already on site, suited up and ready to observe.
But now that he saw the Destroyer with his own eyes, Tony's expression was grim. The thing was terrifying. Truly terrifying.
To be precise, he had never seen anything like it.
He had brought his newly upgraded Mark III armor. It had stronger thrusters, tougher plating, and better weapons than the Mark II. Even without Vibranium, it was a masterpiece of human engineering.
But looking at the Destroyer, Tony could feel the gap.
"Can a human even beat that thing?" Tony couldn't help but ask. "Don't tell me Odin was actually going easy on Thor in the video."
The Destroyer radiated an aura of pure annihilation. It felt less like a machine and more like a natural disaster made of metal. It was hard to imagine how Thor—even with his powers back—could smash something like that.
Meanwhile, Thor walked out to meet the Destroyer.
"Loki! I know you can hear me!"
Thor's voice boomed across the desert.
The Destroyer stopped.
Just as Thor suspected, the "evil god" Loki was listening. Even from Asgard, the magical connection allowed for real-time audio.
"Loki, you know I have no ill will toward you. Whether the throne is yours or mine, I don't care. I might not even be a good king!" Thor tried to open his heart to his brother. "And I know you lied to me. Father isn't dead, is he?"
Far away in Asgard, sitting on the throne, Loki froze.
He knows.
Loki's grip tightened on Gungnir. He didn't know how Thor found out about Odin, but this changed everything.
His legitimacy as King rested on two lies: Odin was dead, and Thor was exiled.
If Thor came back knowing the truth? No one would support Loki.
Loki knew exactly where he stood. Even if he held the scepter, the people of Asgard would turn on him the moment Thor returned. It was only a matter of time.
Thor had been groomed for the throne since birth. The warriors, the nobles, the people—they all loved him. Odin didn't fear Thor; he just wished he wasn't such an idiot.
If Thor returned, Loki's reign was over.
Unless...
Unless Thor died. Or voluntarily gave up the throne.
Before, Thor had given up, believing he was unworthy and his father was dead. But now? Now he knew the truth. No one could force him to abdicate.
The brother had to die. Otherwise, Loki would never be safe.
A surge of murderous intent flashed in Loki's eyes.
On Earth, the Destroyer's faceplate slid open. A beam of searing orange energy erupted from within.
But Thor was ready. He didn't trust his brother blindly anymore.
He leaped aside just as the beam struck.
BOOM!
The ground where he stood a second ago vanished, replaced by a smoking crater. The power of the blast was staggering.
"Loki! You are not a fit king! Asgard does not need a ruler like you!" Thor shouted over the roar of the fire. "You are not the heir Father wanted! So this time, I won't let you have it!"
"I'm not a fit king? And you are?!"
Loki's voice—distorted and metallic—screamed from the Destroyer.
Thor hadn't calmed him down. He'd poured gasoline on the fire.
Loki, already insecure about his Frost Giant heritage, now felt the sting of rejection even sharper.
Even the throne wasn't something he earned. It was something his brother discarded. And now that Thor wanted it back, Loki had to give it up?
Like hell.
Rage consumed him.
For years, Thor had led armies to glory while Loki stood in his shadow.
What did Loki have? "God of Mischief"? "God of Fire"? Empty titles. He had no great victories. No legends sung in his name.
In Asgard, strength was everything. And every time Loki tried to use his cleverness, his magic, his schemes—Thor just smashed through them with a hammer and a laugh.
His intellect was useless against brute force.
But now? Now he had the Destroyer.
"Brother, don't blame me," Loki whispered to himself in the empty throne room. "Only with you dead can I truly be King. You didn't want the throne anyway, right? Then give it to me. Permanently."
The Destroyer turned, its internal fires glowing brighter.
Loki was done playing games.