Inside the Golden Temple.
At that moment, the golden-armored guards of the All-Father and the duty soldiers of Asgard had all been reassigned by Loki through various orders.
Clutching the Spear of Eternity, he sat on the throne that belonged to the King of the Gods, taking in the majestic view that only the ruler of Asgard could see.
It felt like he wielded supreme divine power—like the Nine Realms rested in the palm of his hand, and all of Asgard bowed before him.
The sensation was... intoxicating.
But just as Loki was about to mentally climax in his fantasy, a familiar, aged voice echoed from the side corridor.
"How does it feel, Loki?"
Before he even opened his eyes, Loki leapt from the throne as if struck by lightning.
The Spear of Eternity nearly slipped from his grasp. He hurriedly steadied it and dropped to one knee, his voice trembling:
"Father, I'm sorry... I was just admiring your glorious legacy on the dome and accidentally sat down."
"Is that so?"
Odin, dressed in golden robes, slowly walked forward, his voice heavy with authority:
"Then why do I get the feeling that you did it on purpose?"
Loki dropped to both knees, bowing his head in fear.
"No, truly—it was an accident."
Odin casually took the Spear of Eternity from him, then said meaningfully:
"Believe me, Loki—if it were really you, you'd be bored of being king within six months.
After a year, you'd start looking for ways to slack off, indulge yourself, and maybe even write some self-glorifying opera.
By the second year, you'd be thinking of ways to escape the responsibilities altogether.
And by the third year... well, Thor might just knock your skull off."
Loki looked up in shock.
It wasn't the vulgar words that startled him—it was the tone.
The voice, once old and gravelly, now sounded young.
This wasn't Odin!
When he looked up, his pupils shrank.
Standing before him was... himself.
Before he could react, "Loki" sneered and snapped:
"You impostor. Even kneeling won't reduce your guilt."
It was then Loki realized—this man was trying to impersonate him!
"You dare!"
Furious, Loki conjured two daggers and lunged forward!
But—
"I knew you'd try that."
Russell smiled slightly, having predicted the reaction.
He didn't even bother using any special technique.
Just as Loki summoned the daggers, Russell raised his hand and slapped him—calmly and cleanly.
SMACK!
Loki flipped through the air a dozen times before landing flat on the ground with a thud.
Russell nodded to himself.
That slap felt solid—difficulty rating: 9.0.
Perfect. Fully knocked out.
Loki struggled to get up, his left cheek already swollen.
In disbelief and trembling, he pointed upward, stammering:
"You dare... How dare you! I'm the son of Odin! The second prince of Asgard—!"
Swoosh!
The Spear of Eternity swept past him with invisible force.
Loki's words were cut off instantly as a sharp gash opened on his face.
His entire body trembled—not in rage, but in pure terror.
He had almost died just now!
That man didn't care about identity or rank at all!
Russell looked down at the pale-faced Loki and said coldly:
"For Odin's sake, I'll spare you this time."
"Guards!"
His majestic voice rang out, and the temple doors slammed open.
A unit of golden-armored guards marched in with precision.
The moment they arrived, they saw one figure standing tall above and another trembling below.
The atmosphere, the aura, the calm yet terrifying presence... for a moment, they thought it was Odin himself.
"Throw this intruder into the dungeon."
"Yes, sir!"
Without hesitation, two guards grabbed Loki—now magically disguised as someone else—and dragged him away. No one dared question the order.
Russell raised his hand, and the Spear of Eternity flew back to him.
The artifact offered no resistance.
He turned toward the All-Father's palace, muttering to himself:
"So this is how it ends..."
"I thought he was faking it..."
But there was no way to extend Odin's life. Shaking his head, Russell left the temple.
Asgard's Vault of Treasures.
Holding the symbol of the King of Gods, Russell entered the famed Asgardian Vault.
It was divided into two sections:
One side stored legendary weapons and rare artifacts.
The other held the ancient history of Asgard—its secret knowledge, runes, and magical scrolls.
Russell browsed the magical collections first, but found most of them rather ordinary.
Asgard worshipped raw divine power. Aside from illusion magic, most spellbooks were unimpressive.
The Runes of Power were more interesting—over 400 unique runes. Russell didn't attempt to learn them all immediately but memorized them mentally.
However, when he put the scroll down, he found that all memory of it vanished.
Russell clicked his tongue in frustration.
"So I can't even remember it unless I learn it? Outrageous."
But since he could travel through time, he had no shortage of opportunities to study them properly.
For now, the most important thing was the hidden knowledge.
He used the Spear of Eternity to unlock a secret chamber guarded by ninety-nine magical seals.
Inside, he found a glowing scroll emanating powerful magical light.
After searching for more than ten minutes, he finally discovered the so-called Ancestral Power.
Millions of years ago, Gaea, the Mother of Earth, had driven the evil Elder Gods into other dimensions at the cost of her own injury.
Before vanishing, she created the World Tree and gave birth to the Aesir Gods.
Both inherited divine power from her.
The Aesir lineage was passed down through generations, and those of royal blood could awaken the ancestral power once granted by Gaea.
For example, the power of thunder.
Over tens of millions of years, Asgard has had several wielders of thunder known as Thor.
The gift of the World Tree signifies recognition. It can awaken a more powerful divine force—one that has never appeared before.
The so-called "Power of Odin" is such a divine force, awakened through the World Tree in Asgard's history.
It wasn't something Odin himself awakened from nothing—but a power inherited. The "Power of Odin" was first awakened by Bor, the previous King of Asgard and Odin's father. It was passed down through the royal bloodline.
However, the awakening of this divine power also requires a ritual.
And each individual's ritual is different.
According to records, some have to enter a special trial world within the World Tree. Others are tested in different ways—by combat, sacrifice, or moral choice. Some even have to offer up what they cherish most.
The requirements vary widely.
This ancient magical scroll in Russell's hand could predict the ritual required.
Russell lightly touched a symbol on the parchment with his fingertip.
For a moment, he heard the laughter of three women—one childish, one youthful, and one elderly—all at once. The sound vanished instantly, like an illusion.
A second later, the original script on the scroll faded, replaced by glowing new text:
Ritual: Hunt, Guard, Witness
Slay the dragon beast of the Kingdom of Winter: the messenger of the Flame Realm.
Protect the desperate.
Defeat the invasion of darkness.
A surprised "Huh?" escaped Russell's lips.
The words [messenger of the Flame Realm] suddenly ignited and burned away—disappearing completely, as if that part of the ritual had been fulfilled.
Russell looked around.
He had clearly heard a voice but saw no one.
Even his spiritual perception couldn't detect anything—as though the sound had come from a different dimension entirely.
After thinking it over, Russell returned his attention to the parchment.
He guessed the first two steps referred to:
The Frost Dragon of Jotunheim
And Surtur, the fire demon of Muspelheim
Especially the second one—he had already killed Surtur in the future, yet the scroll marked it as complete in the past.
Apparently, time posed no obstacle to completing the ritual.
That was good news.
It meant he didn't need to worry about creating temporal branches or paradoxes. Killing an enemy in the future could still count toward the task.
He glanced again at the last two objectives.
"Defeat the invasion of darkness."
That most likely referred to the Dark Elves' assault on Asgard in Thor: The Dark World.
As for "Protect the desperate"—was that referring to a major, fixed event? Or would any meaningful act of protection count?
And how many did he have to protect? One? Dozens? Thousands?
Russell pondered. Either way, now was the perfect time to experiment.
Though perhaps... poor Loki had suffered for nothing.
In the Dungeon.
Loki sat silently in a corner, dazed and full of doubt.
He had meticulously planned everything. So why had things gone so horribly wrong?
Who was that man?
Someone who could use illusion magic just like him?
Maybe one of Thor's allies?
"Just wait until I find out who you are," he muttered darkly.
But then, just like a few hours ago, a voice suddenly echoed in the cell:
"And what will you do if you do?"
Loki's eyes shot open.
A figure emerged in a flash of green light.
Then—
SLAP!
A palm came flying into Loki's face before he could even blink.
More than ten minutes later...
Loki struggled to peel himself off the magic barrier wall. Now both sides of his face were swollen.
He spotted the Spear of Eternity tossed on the ground nearby.
The mysterious attacker had left.
Apparently, this whole "invasion" of Asgard had one purpose: to slap him twice.
Loki suddenly felt like crying.
He had never been this humiliated in his entire life.
"This is all Thor's fault..."
Muttering bitterly, he picked up the discarded artifact and deactivated the cell's magic barrier.
Earth – New Mexico
Night – Desert
A golden portal sparked open. Russell quietly stepped out into the desert.
He waited a few moments. No one appeared.
Cautiously, he stepped forward.
He had used a Kamar-Taj portal instead of a TVA time door—hoping to avoid detection from the Sanctum Sanctorum.
After all, the Sorcerers of Kamar-Taj guard Earth's mystical boundaries. If the Ancient One noticed him... that would be trouble.
Russell didn't believe someone who once outwitted Dormammu and endured cosmic wrath would die from a simple fall off a building.
So, instead of triggering advanced time-travel tech, he used the traditional sorcerer portal—hoping it would sneak past magical detection.
After wandering in the desert for a bit and confirming no sorcerer had appeared, Russell flew off in stealth mode toward his target.
He wasn't heading for Puente Antiguo.
Right now, Thor had just attempted to lift Mjolnir and had been rejected. S.H.I.E.L.D. had just begun observing him.
A few minutes later...
A bonfire flickered in the distance.
Russell wasn't flying now. A faint green shimmer washed over him as he transformed into a man who closely resembled Thor—
The actor who played Thor in the Asgardian play from Thor: Ragnarok.
Under the starlit sky, Dr. Erik Selvig and Darcy Lewis sat by a vehicle, chatting.
By the fire, Thor had begun to accept his mortal fate.
He joked with Jane Foster, telling tales of Asgard—which she assumed were made-up.
The two were deep in conversation, laughing—until Thor noticed something.
There were no footsteps in the sand, but a figure was suddenly walking toward them from the desert, already less than ten meters away.
The person's face was hidden beneath a hood.
Thor immediately stood up, alert:
"Hey! Stop! You there—human!"
He instinctively felt something was off. No one should be wandering here at night without reason.
Jane, however, was unfazed.
She assumed it was just a lost traveler.
"Relax, Thor."
She patted his shoulder, then called out:
"Don't be nervous, friend! Do you need help?"
By now, Erik and Darcy noticed the commotion and jogged over.
With more people around, the sense of danger lessened.
Only Thor remained on edge.
The hooded figure replied calmly:
"No, I don't need help."
Jane smiled, not offended, and added:
"I see. Well, there's a small town a few kilometers ahead—Puente Antiguo.
They've got a few 24-hour motels. You can rest there if you need."
Her tone was polite—but made it clear that strangers weren't exactly welcome here.
But instead of leaving, the figure continued walking closer.
Suddenly, the casual mood turned tense.
Darcy instinctively reached for her taser. Thor stepped in front of them protectively.
The stranger stopped a few meters from the fire.
Then, under everyone's nervous gaze, he pulled back his hood.
He glanced at each of them and said:
"I don't need help—because you do."
Jane and Erik exchanged confused looks.
Darcy's eyes lit up at the handsome stranger:
"I definitely need help!"
"What's your name?"
Russell lifted his head slightly and said in a slow, confident voice:
"My name is Thor."
"Or if you prefer… call me the real Thor."
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