Loki's nighttime visit and his hasty, disheveled retreat were like a stone cast into a calm lake, the ripples slowly spreading in the darkness, unknown to anyone.
For most residents of the town of Puente Antiguo, this was just a night like any other; at most, some vigilant nocturnal animals were startled by the brief, muffled, thunder-like noise in the backyard, stirred restlessly under the fence for a moment, and soon returned to silence.
The backyard of the guesthouse where Artoria and Minerva were staying was a mess.
Broken windows, snapped wooden fences, crystalline ice shards scattered across the ground, and the scorch marks of residual magic energy silently told the story of the intense clash that had just taken place.
After confirming that Loki had left completely and would not return in the short term, Minerva began the "cleanup" work with astonishing efficiency.
She took out some specialized sprays and adsorption devices from her portable tool kit, quickly neutralizing and clearing away the traces of abnormal energy remaining in the air and on the ground.
The shattered wood and glass were gathered up, and the damaged window was temporarily sealed from the inside using pre-prepared emergency materials—a composite board that could be quickly molded to simulate the appearance of glass.
The entire process was quiet, rapid, and professional, as if it had been rehearsed countless times.
When landlady Martha was awakened by the morning "breeze" and came to the backyard to check, bleary-eyed, she saw only a few fence boards that seemed to have come loose due to age, and a window on the second floor that had "accidentally broken" and been properly handled by the tenants themselves.
Faced with Minerva's calm explanation and a small, generous "accidental damage compensation," this minor anomaly was quickly attributed to the common issue of building material aging caused by the day-night temperature difference in the desert region.
"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry. I hope you weren't too frightened." Martha held the compensation money, feeling a bit embarrassed. "This old house really needs some repairs. It's good you're okay. Do you need to change rooms?"
"No need, Martha. It's already been taken care of, and it won't affect our rest." Artoria smiled and politely declined, her tone gentle and reassuring.
After dealing with the surface traces, deeper waves were surging in unseen places.
Inside the temporary S.H.I.E.L.D. Base, the atmosphere was even heavier than usual.
After experiencing the total blow of Loki's deception and his second failure to lift the hammer, Thor had fallen into an even deeper, almost deathly depression.
He no longer roared or tried; he just sat blankly in the isolation room assigned to him all day, staring at the wall with hollow eyes, unresponsive to the inquiries of Coulson or the medical staff, as if his soul had already left his body.
This state left the Agents responsible for "guarding" and "evaluating" him feeling both relieved and vaguely uneasy—a target who had lost all responsiveness carried potential risks that were even harder to predict.
After hearing the report from the night-shift Agent about how "Thor had been briefly and abnormally active before quickly falling into a deep slumber," Coulson and Natasha were filled with suspicion.
Combined with Artoria's warning from earlier that day about how "external interference could lead to unpredictable consequences," they were almost certain that a "third party" had contacted Thor during the night, and that this was very likely the culprit behind his rapidly deteriorating state.
Who could it be? An accomplice of the target? Or some other faction interested in the "hammer"?
"Pull all perimeter surveillance and sensor records from last night for in-depth analysis," Coulson ordered the technical team. "Focus on screening for abnormal energy fluctuations and any physical disturbances that cannot be reasonably explained. Also, increase the alert level in the area where Thor is being held, implement two-person shifts, and equip them with the latest model of mental fluctuation monitors."
He felt intuitively that the event was sliding into a more complex abyss.
Natasha, however, was more concerned with Artoria's movements.
She accessed the traffic surveillance from several key intersections in the town, including the area near the guesthouse; with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s authority, obtaining this was not difficult.
The footage showed that after returning to the guesthouse in the evening, Artoria and her companion had not gone out again, and the guesthouse itself had shown no other anomalies during the night, aside from that "accidentally" broken window.
But Natasha's intuition told her that things were not that simple.
The silver-haired woman always gave her the feeling of a sharp blade hidden in a sheath, while Artoria... beneath her calm, there seemed to be a bottomless pool of water.
Last night, there was an anomaly on the side of the Base; was it really so peaceful on their side?
"Send a team to that guesthouse under the guise of a 'routine security check' and 'checking on the consultants'," Natasha suggested to Coulson, her red lips slightly pursed. "Don't be too obvious, but keep your eyes sharp."
Coulson nodded in agreement.
Meanwhile, deep in the desert, under the shadow of a massive rock mountain far from human activity, the God of Mischief, Loki, was leaning against a heavily weathered boulder, gloomily tending to the injury on his arm.
The straight punch from Minerva, which contained terrifying kinetic energy, had not only broken his arm bone, but the residual strange, vibrating force had even hindered the natural healing of his divine power.
He had to use more magic, combined with healing potions brought from Asgard, just to barely set the broken bone, but for a short time, this arm would still be unable to exert force, and his spellcasting would also be somewhat affected.
His icy green eyes flickered with a cold, sinister light in the night.
He had never been this disheveled before, especially in a World he viewed as "backward indigenous," to be injured by a woman of unknown identity using pure brute force.
This humiliation was like a poisonous fire, scorching his reason.
"The silver-haired woman... and that blonde one..." Loki muttered, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the rock wall, leaving shallow scorch marks. "They are definitely not ordinary people of Earth. That power... that ability to see through illusions... and that strange 'quality' on that blonde woman..."
He recalled the strange aura he had sensed when approaching mjolnir, which resonated with the hammer, and it faintly overlapped with Artoria, whom he had seen tonight.
They knew his identity, knew about Asgard, and might even know his plans.
They possessed impressive power and their stance was unclear, but they were clearly wary of him, if not hostile.
Most importantly, their existence had become a huge, uncontrollable variable.
"I cannot let them live." The intent to kill surged in Loki's heart.
But he was no fool; the terrifying close-combat ability Minerva had displayed left him with lingering fear.
Before his arm healed and he found an effective way to counter that silver-haired woman, a direct confrontation was not the best strategy.
His gaze turned toward the faint lights of the distant S.H.I.E.L.D. Base, then he looked at his right arm, which he still could not use flexibly; a more vicious, more characteristic idea began to take shape.
"Since it is currently inconvenient for me to enter the fray myself... then I'll let'someone else' come and play with you." A cruel arc curled at the corners of Loki's mouth. "It is fitting, too; it's time to let my foolish brother, and his 'new friends' on Earth, witness what true 'Wrath of the Gods' is... and by the way, I can also test the mettle of those women."
He thought of that ancient and powerful destructive armor sealed by Odin deep in the Heavenly Palace vault.
Although summoning and controlling it required paying a significant price, and it might attract the attention of Heimdall or even the sleeping Odin, at this moment, in order to clear obstacles, verify some conjectures, and further pressure and strike at Thor... it was worth taking the risk.
"And," Loki muttered to himself, a glimmer of calculation flashing in his eyes, "if that blonde woman really has some special connection with mjolnir... in the face of the Destroyer's power, will she be forced to reveal more secrets? Truly... something to look forward to."
He did not hesitate any longer and began to use his left hand to carve complex and ancient Asgard runes into the sand, whispering the incantation of summoning.
A deep purple magical light flowed from his fingertips, seeping into the runes, as if guided by an invisible channel toward the depths of the starry sky, connecting to the distant Heavenly Palace.
In the town guesthouse, Artoria felt a sudden, inexplicable heart palpitation.
She walked to the window that had been temporarily repaired by Minerva and looked toward the depths of the desert.
In her spiritual sense, it was as if something extremely heavy and filled with destructive meaning was being slowly awakened; its malice, like ink dripped into clear water, began to spread on the level of the rules of this land.
"little ai," she called out in her consciousness, "strengthen the energy monitoring of the entire New Mexico region, especially signs involving the opening of high-dimensional channels or abnormal mass/energy accumulation. Focus on high-energy reactions similar to Asgard energy signatures."
"Command confirmed. Monitoring level has been increased. A weak but continuously strengthening spatial disturbance signal, partially matching the known energy signature of the Asgard 'Bifrost Bridge,' has been detected, with the source pointing to the depths of the desert; coordinates have been roughly locked. Signal strength is slowly climbing; preliminary assessment is a precursor to cross-dimensional transmission," little ai's calm reporting voice sounded in her mind.
Sure enough... Loki had started summoning the Destroyer.
Artoria's heart sank.
In the original plot, the arrival of the Destroyer was a key turning point for Thor to awaken and regain his divine power, but it was also the moment when the town faced a crisis of destruction.
Although Thor would eventually stop it, the process would inevitably be accompanied by destruction and casualties.
"Minerva," she turned to look at her silver-haired companion, who was quietly guarding her side, "Loki has not given up. He is likely preparing something more dangerous. Over the next few days, we need to be vigilant. If... if that 'thing' really appears and threatens the innocent people of the town..." She paused, a glimmer of resolve flashing in her emerald eyes, "We may not be able to just'stand by and watch' anymore."
Minerva's optical sensor glowed with a steady blue light, her voice calm and without waves: "Understood. The threat assessment model has been updated. The 'Destroyer armor' has been listed as a highest-priority potential threat. Once its arrival is confirmed and it poses a direct threat to civilians, I will initiate the corresponding response protocol according to the situation. Protecting you and minimizing innocent casualties is the primary objective."
Artoria nodded and walked back to the bed to sit down.
She knew that her previous stance as an "observer" would be severely tested in the face of an indiscriminate weapon of destruction like the Destroyer.
She could choose not to interfere with Thor's trial, but she could not just watch as this town, which had accepted them and shown them kindness, was destroyed by war.
Over the next two days, the surface was calm, but there were undercurrents surging in the dark.
Thor remained depressed, but S.H.I.E.L.D.'s psychologists and medical staff began to try more gentle methods of communication, occasionally even taking him out for limited activities within the Base.
The "checking on the consultants" team sent by Coulson also came to the guesthouse, probing for information, but they were easily fended off by Artoria with "travel fatigue, everything is fine," while Minerva perfectly played the role of a silent but attentive travel companion, revealing no flaws.
The lives of the town residents continued as usual.
Business at Jack's bar was still bustling, the aroma of landlady Martha's baked apple pies filled half the street, old John reinforced the fences for his few startled cows, muttering about "damn coyotes."
They did not know that a storm, far beyond the scope of their understanding, was slowly taking shape in the heart of the desert.
Artoria and Minerva used these two days to drive far away from the town under the guise of "hiking to explore the desert geology," and from a relatively safe distance, they used little ai's wide-area scanning and Minerva's optical sensor to continuously monitor that constantly "charging" coordinate point.
They observed that the distortion of space was becoming increasingly obvious, and a heart-palpitating energy, filled with metallic coldness and pure desire for destruction, was establishing an increasingly stable connection between another dimension and the anchor point on Earth.
"Transmission channel stability has reached 78%; estimated time to full connection is in 36 to 48 hours," little ai continuously updated the data.
The scent of the approaching storm was something even the desert itself seemed able to perceive.
The wind became restless, and the sand and gravel it whipped up struck the car windows, making a dense sound.
The sky often took on an ominous, metallic-lustered dark yellow color.
On the evening of the third day, Artoria and Minerva stood again on the high slope at the edge of the town, gazing into the desert.
The setting sun was like blood, dyeing the boundless sea of sand into a burning red-gold.
But deep within that red-gold, a discordant, dark purple light was faintly showing through from behind a certain rock mountain, like an eye opening in the abyss.
"It's almost here," Artoria said softly.
Minerva stood by her side, her silver hair gently fluttering in the hot wind, her optical sensor locked onto the direction of that purple light, silent like a blade about to be unsheathed.
Night fell, and the lights of the town lit up one after another, warm and fragile.
Inside the guesthouse room, Artoria checked the few "little gadgets" she carried with her one last time—a few crystals engraved with simple protection and purification runes (the practical results of her trip to Kamar-Taj), as well as that gemstone pendant she always wore close to her body, which contained a trace of the protective power of Caster Artoria.
Minerva performed final adjustments on the core components of the "Flower Contract" combat suit and the energy longsword, storing them in a portable equipment case for quick access.
They did not sleep, but just leaned against the head of the bed, fully clothed, closing their eyes to rest and raising their perception to the maximum.
In the distant desert, the purple light grew more intense, and the humming of space began to faintly transmit even from dozens of kilometers away, like the breathing of a giant beast before it awakened.
In the silence of all things, a collision that would decide the fate of the town, the fate of Thor, and perhaps also affect the future trajectory, had already entered its final countdown.
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