"No one can stop you if you want to leave, but remember to say hello to Grandma Rin before you go," America said, then left the room.
Seeing this, Loki also got out of bed, but the severe pain throughout his body made him move slowly.
He looked down at the ill-fitting shirt he wore—a rough, Earth-made fabric, completely unlike the luxurious divine robes he was used to.
He frowned. The God of Mischief, reduced to wearing such clothes—it was ironic.
But someone had saved him, and though Loki didn't care much, he still felt obliged to pay his respects.
Loki did have some upbringing.
Thinking this, he stepped outside the room, but as soon as he opened the door, his frown deepened.
The scene before him shocked him even more.
The house was dilapidated, battered by countless storms and hardships. The railings were covered with moss, and the air was thick with the damp, musty smell of neglect.
Loki had never imagined such a filthy, rundown place existed on Earth.
He descended the creaking stairs cautiously, afraid of falling.
On the first floor, a group of ragged children chased and played noisily.
They didn't have money for soccer balls, so they kicked around old cans instead, their innocent smiles full of joy despite their poverty.
Loki stared at them, his heart tangled with confusion.
Why were so many children living in such squalor?
And yet, why were they so happy?
Questions swirled in his mind, incomprehensible to someone raised in Asgard—a realm where children wore opulent clothes, lived in vast palaces, and knew no hardship.
If he were king, he would never allow Asgard's children to live in such a place.
Or on Earth, if he ruled it, he wouldn't let these children suffer like this.
"It seems Alex Ray isn't all that great. There's such a shabby place in his territory," Loki thought bitterly, assuming he was still in Hell's Kitchen and that this was Alex Ray's domain.
Maybe Loki subconsciously believed Alex Ray was so powerful that all Earth belonged to him, and he sneered internally.
Loki's eyes lingered on the orphan children playing.
Their laughter and carefree running spoke of an innocence and longing he couldn't grasp.
America noticed Loki's gaze and gently came to his side, softly explaining, "These children are all orphans. Like you, they were abandoned on the streets. Fortunately, Grandma Lin brought them here and gave them a home."
Suddenly, a can rolled under Loki's feet.
He looked up to see the children trotting toward him, their faces bright with innocent smiles and eyes full of hope.
"Brother, are you new here? Will you be our brother?" a child asked in a small voice.
Loki was stunned by the question. He'd never considered being anyone's brother before.
His first instinct was to refuse. How could he, the God of Mischief, waste time playing house with a bunch of kids? He was Loki, intent on reclaiming his divine power to rule the Earth!
But when he met the children's hopeful eyes, something inside him softened.
America picked up the can and tossed it back, letting the children return to their game.
"Don't worry. These kids are about the same age and have always wanted an older brother. They think if they have one, no one will bully them outside," America said, continuing inside.
Loki thought of his brother Thor. To him, Thor was a stupid brother who only caused trouble.
But what if he became their older brother?
The thought lingered in Loki's mind.
Still, he said nothing and followed America to meet the woman who had saved him—Grandma rin.
The kitchen could only be described as dilapidated. Mottled walls, peeling tiles, and a stove caked in oil stains and dust.
Loki looked around. There was almost no modern kitchen equipment—only some old pots and pans and a battered electric stove.
He felt an inexplicable sadness. He'd never seen such a simple kitchen before, and it was hard to imagine this was where food for an orphanage was prepared.
Just then, an old woman caught his attention.
Bent over, her hair gray, she stirred a large pot with a wooden spoon.
Loki moved closer to see what she was cooking.
The pot held a watery, white porridge with just a few scattered vegetables—no meat at all.
Loki frowned. Though unfamiliar with Earth food culture, he recognized this had almost no nutritional value. Could so many children and this elderly woman really fill their stomachs with so little?
Unable to hold back, Loki asked America, "Do the children and Grandma eat this every day?"
America nodded, sighing helplessly. "There's no choice. We're lucky to have this much. Grandma looks after all these kids, and I do some illegal work on the side. If restaurants have leftovers, I bring them here. This year's better than before. Before, sometimes we went hungry."
Alex Ray is such a bad guy, Loki thought bitterly. So many children and an old woman, yet they eat so little?
But America immediately defended, "You can't say that about the Lord of Hell. Because of him, we have porridge every day.
Grandma gets all this food from the Hell's Kitchen shelter—it's the only shelter you can go to. The others are controlled by gangs."
"Can't you talk to Alex Ray about this? Can't these kids be adopted by him and his family?" Loki asked, uncaring.
America admired the Lord of Hell. "We want Alex Ray to manage this area. We're right at the border of Brooklyn and Hell's Kitchen. Strictly, this isn't Hell's Kitchen territory.
If we lived in Hell's Kitchen proper, these kids could go to school free, have food, and get benefits. The welfare there is great, and people are nice.
But Lord of Hell, Alex Ray, doesn't care about that. We get what food we can from Hell's Kitchen—the gangs don't dare touch it."
America's words confused Loki. This wasn't Alex Ray's territory? With his strength, shouldn't any place he wanted be his?
And Hell's Kitchen residents had better welfare than Alex Ray's people?
What was so good about him then? If he were truly great, he wouldn't be in this state!
This America must be deceived by Alex Ray.
Loki was determined to expose Alex Ray's true face
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Bonus Chapter - 150 Power Stones
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