"Threat?"
Hearing Zenkichi's words, Loki's lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. To him, it was obvious—the man before him was seeking his own end.
After all, Loki knew exactly who the Wolf God was. A being from the same age as his father, Odin. He didn't know the full extent of the Wolf God's power, but he knew one thing—he was immensely strong.
Strong enough to stand just beneath the All-Father himself.
Loki didn't believe Zenkichi could match that. Still, he didn't underestimate him either. Zenkichi was formidable—Loki had fought him before and had been completely outmatched, even when Zenkichi wasn't fighting seriously. He remembered the helplessness of being controlled in that battle.
But the Wolf God… he was different.
Loki had seen what his father could do—how he had fought across the Nine Realms, undefeated, a figure of absolute might. Even after removing nearly all opposition, Odin could have undone Loki's victories with a single word. That was why Loki had waited until his father was gone before setting his plans into motion.
In Loki's eyes, Odin was the most powerful being alive. And the Wolf God… was nearly his equal.
That was why Zenkichi's words had set off a storm.
The Wolf God was a proud being. In all his countless years, no one had spoken to him like this. Even Odin had never dared utter such words.
And now, here was a man standing before him, unflinching, speaking as though he were nothing.
Anger flared in the Wolf God's eyes. His posture straightened, the faint stiffness of age vanishing as if life itself had been poured back into him. The air around him thickened with power, the kind that could sweep across the world and crush mountains.
"Die!"
With that roar, he charged. No weapons, no magic—just pure physical might. His massive fists, each the size of a sandbag, swung downward from above with the weight of tens of thousands of kilograms.
"Sen Fleur."
The words left Arakawa Zenkichi's mouth in a cold, level tone.
Then the ground beneath them shifted.
Before the eyes of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s agents, flowers began to bloom across the steel floor, erupting in vivid color. They blossomed rapidly, their petals opening in eerie unison, and then twined together. In moments, the floral carpet became a writhing mass of vines.
From the sea of flowers, a massive rattan vine surged upward like a living serpent, its green coils thick as a tree trunk. It whipped through the air, rushing toward the Wolf God with crushing force, intent on entangling and overwhelming him.
This was Zenkichi's technique—the garden of life concealing the embrace of death.
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