100%!
Finally, under Alex's relentless focus, the copying process at last reached completion.
As the progress bar filled up to its final tick, Alex could not help the surge of joy that rose in his chest, a rare moment of triumph flashing in his eyes.
Yet before he could even breathe a word of relief, a wave of pain unlike anything he had ever felt slammed through his body, tearing a ragged scream from his throat as his legs buckled under him and he collapsed to the ground, every muscle twitching uncontrollably.
"Alex! Are you alright?!" Thor's deep voice boomed first, and Tony — Iron Man himself — was already beside him in seconds, his arc reactor casting a faint glow as he dropped to one knee.
But Alex could barely hear them through the haze of pain that seemed to slice through every nerve. His jaw clenched so tight it felt like his teeth would shatter, ragged groans forcing their way out as beads of cold sweat rolled down his temples and dripped onto the metal floor, mixing with the faint hum of the lab's reactors.
It was the complete overhaul of his genetic structure that drove him to this edge; the transformation was rewriting him from the inside out, every cell screaming in protest as his body struggled to adapt. Back when he had copied Magneto's genes, it had only been a fragment, and since Magneto was still human at the core, merging that piece had merely grafted new potential onto Alex's own human framework — not too disruptive, no agony to speak of.
But Thor's bloodline was something else entirely. The Asgardian genome was a living echo of cosmic energy and ancient power — not just an add-on but an entire rewrite of human limits. Now that he had forced those alien strands into his own DNA, they were tearing through every corner of his cells, reshaping muscle, bone, and blood, replacing the old blueprint with one that could stand alongside a god.
A grown human body enduring such a radical genetic rewrite was bound to pay the price. The pain drilled so deep into him it felt as though even the roots of his hair were smoldering in agony.
Somewhere far away, Alex could still catch snatches of Thor's booming voice, the sharp worry in Tony's tone as his helmet retracted — but his vision blurred, the lab lights dissolved into formless white, and darkness swallowed him whole.
He didn't know how long he drifted, suspended in a void that felt both weightless and suffocating, but when Alex finally forced his eyes open, the first thing that greeted him was the soft click of medical equipment and the bright white ceiling of the SHIELD medical bay.
A nurse in a crisp white coat, startled by the sudden flutter of his eyelids, gasped and immediately turned on her heel to call out for help.
"What... what happened to me?" Alex murmured, his throat raw, his voice a hoarse shadow that hardly sounded like his own.
Fragments of memory floated behind his eyes — the moment he'd copied Thor's genes, the instant the agony hit him, the helpless spiral into unconsciousness. Beyond that, nothing. How much time had passed? Hours? Days?
A thought cut through the fog — he needed to check. Forcing his shaky hands to move, Alex opened the C Drive embedded in his mental interface, eyes narrowing as the familiar data window flickered into view.
The capacity had indeed expanded — before this, it had hovered at 107 gigabytes, but now it read 307 gigabytes. He could still recall the number clearly; this meant he had gained a solid 200 gigabytes of raw storage.
It was a huge boost, a leap by any normal measure, but as Alex stared at the figure, his brows knit together in quiet frustration — this was Thor's genome, the seed of a god's power. He had expected it to explode past 2,000 gigabytes, reshaping him into something entirely beyond human.
Instead, he had only gained a tenth of what he had hoped for.
The gain was not small by any measure, but the gap between what Alex had imagined and what he actually received was so wide that a faint sense of disappointment inevitably settled in his chest.
Raising his hand a little, Alex glanced at the faint computer circuit pattern that shimmered on his palm, its dull glow flickering like a heartbeat in standby mode. Judging by the outline's slight shift, he guessed he couldn't have been unconscious for too long — though the sterile smell of the medical bay and the stiffness in his limbs said otherwise.
Casting his eyes back to the C Drive's status and the neat line of code that marked the new 55GB bloodline file labelled Asgardian Gene Sequence, Alex understood at once that his body was now fundamentally rewritten as an Asgardian's — or at least the raw framework of one.
Yet as he focused, he found no dramatic surge of new abilities apart from the significant bump in his storage capacity. His strength felt the same — or perhaps weaker from exhaustion — and there were no sudden flashes of divine power waiting to break free from his fingertips.
Could it be, Alex wondered, that this Asgardian bloodline was no different than a newborn's, still dormant, requiring training, battles, and time to awaken its true potential?
A dry chuckle behind him pulled him out of his thoughts.
"Oh, brilliant — you finally woke up after lying there like a corpse for three days. For a moment, I thought I'd have to wheel you around like a vegetable for the rest of your life." Tony Stark strode in, his voice carrying its usual mix of sarcasm and relief, the soft whir of his arc reactor humming under his shirt.
Not far behind, Steve Rogers stepped into view, his steady presence filling the doorway with a quiet authority, while Bruce Banner adjusted his glasses and gave Alex a polite nod. Thor, towering over them all, ducked slightly to fit his broad shoulders through the frame.
"Three days? So I've been out that long? Thanks for not pulling the plug on me then," Alex said, his voice still hoarse but managing a faint smirk as he forced himself to sit up against the headboard, the stiffness in his arms reminding him how deep the transformation had gone.
The genetic rewrite was done — but every cell felt like it had run a marathon in the desert. His muscles ached, his vision swam at the edges, and fatigue weighed on him like lead. A proper rest was clearly non-negotiable.
"It's good you're awake, my friend. Truly, I am sorry…" Thor stepped forward then, scratching his neck awkwardly as his booming voice dropped to a lower, apologetic rumble.
"Sorry?" Alex raised an eyebrow, genuinely puzzled by the sudden remorse on the Asgardian's face.
Tony leaned back against the foot of the bed, arms folded as he cut in, voice dripping with mock seriousness. "Yeah, Mr. Thunder here thinks your… let's call it your 'vision' must have overstepped its bounds, predicted some deep cosmic secret about him, and so you got zapped by the universe for your trouble."
Thor nodded solemnly, guilt softening his usually commanding expression. "It seems your method peeked at something it should not have, Alex. The fault is mine — you suffered because of my bloodline."
Alex stared at Thor for a heartbeat, a laugh almost escaping despite the ache in his ribs. He hadn't expected that explanation at all — and honestly, he couldn't think of a simple way to correct it either. In the end, he decided to let them keep their conclusion; it made things easier.
He let out a small sigh, then tilted his head, curiosity bubbling up again. "By the way, Thor… there's something I've been meaning to ask. About your people — the Asgardians — is everyone born with the same lifespan, or does it change?"
Thor frowned for a second at the shift in topic, but shrugged and answered without hesitation. "Well, not exactly. Just like Midgardians — humans — some live longer than others, some die young, and many increase their lifespan by training, fighting, pushing their strength to the limits. It's the same for us."
Alex nodded, brow furrowing as he pushed a bit further. "And you personally? Or Asgardians in general — what's the usual lifespan?"
Thor let out a small chuckle that rumbled in his chest. "In general, an ordinary Asgardian will see two or three centuries if they never hone themselves. But for warriors — for those of us who rise in strength and power — our lives stretch far longer. Many live to see five thousand years, perhaps more if fate is kind."
"I see…" Alex murmured, his thoughts falling into place at last. It made sense now — the C Drive's increase wasn't just about raw power but tied to the potential lifespan woven into this new Asgardian DNA. He was like a newborn among gods — barely scratching the surface. If he wanted the full thousand-fold boost he had imagined, he would have to earn it with every fight, every battle, every ounce of strength he forced his body to claim.
That thought alone was enough to chase away the last traces of disappointment. He had taken the first step — and if there was one thing Alex was sure of, it was that he'd never stop pushing forward.