Time rewinds several hours earlier. Before Herman used the Raven's Flight to teleport above the border of Belarus.
Thor's "metamorphosis" was going very smoothly. His rate of change was even faster than Herman had expected in the plan. In just a few days, the once-impetuous Thunder God had gone through a complete transformation.
For millennia he'd been stubborn and unwilling to listen to advice—not because he lacked intellect. It was simply that his immense power made him lazy about thinking, and bit by bit he became a god who believed violence solved everything.
Even after Odin cast him down to Earth and he spent some time working as a stripper, Thor still didn't think he'd done anything wrong. His self-reflection amounted only to wanting to do better to earn more of Odin's approval—which is exactly why he couldn't lift Mjolnir at the "critical moment."
Odin wanted Thor to learn how to be a benevolent ruler, even to be willing to make sacrifices for his people and his realm. When Mjolnir was cast to Earth it carried Odin's whispered admonitions; of course it wouldn't go easy on a Thor who still hadn't realized his faults. In truth, even while Herman had him pinned down and rubbing his face in the dirt, Thor still hadn't grasped what was wrong with him.
Only when Herman threw him to the borderlands of Belarus, forcing him to witness war's cruelty and the terrible harm done to ordinary people, did the Asgardian god of thunder slowly begin to see how ridiculous his past actions had been.
"War only brings suffering to the people!"
Thor began helping rescue wounded civilians, and whenever he had nothing to do he'd sit alone and pound his own head with his hammer.
Seeing the brutal reality with his own eyes, and feeling the grief of a ruined nation, changed him quickly. He realized a good ruler should give their people peace and prosperity.
"Our country was once prosperous; everyone lived happily—then a president who didn't know how to lead ruined everything."
"President? You mean your king?"
"You could put it that way. He made a stupid choice and provoked Russia. That's why our homeland looks like this now."
"Then you should take vengeance on Russia—show resolve and courage and fight back."
"Hahaha, you think it's because of that? No! We all know why this war started. It's because of that despicable president who glorifies war! He got promises and favors from other nations, and we're the ones paying with our lives for the war he started!"
…
A conversation from several days ago.
Thor still remembers it vividly.
After being "revived" from the trash bin, Thor believed he had simply been given a second chance at life. He was never the type to uncover hidden schemes, so he noticed nothing strange. To him, he was merely the last surviving heir of a fallen kingdom.
At first, unable to endure the "truth" of Asgard's destruction and Odin's death, Thor had sunk into despair, wandering aimlessly like a walking corpse.
Yet as more and more refugees appeared, their innocent eyes pleading for help, Thor could not bring himself to watch women and children die before him.
"Perhaps this is my redemption."
Though he remained trapped in grief over Asgard's fall, Thor began working with "Uncle Sam," "Brother Sheldon," "Sister Penny," and others to help the refugees. His great strength made him invaluable in building shelters.
"Is this the price a nation must pay behind the so-called glory of war?" Thor looked upon the ruined city with deep sorrow. "Perhaps Asgard's destruction was the calamity brought on by my own brutal lust for battle."
He was good at drawing bitter lessons from his thoughts.
"Hahaha, Thor, you're really taking this role too seriously. Even Hollywood wouldn't make a movie these days about a fallen prince dreaming of reclaiming his kingdom."
Uncle Sam, in truth a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent in disguise, teased him mercilessly. Every agent was trained to act like an Oscar winner, and the scruffy-bearded man mocked Thor with ease.
"Young man, stop daydreaming. They say plenty of people in the States fantasize every day about being some rich man's son. Thor, listen to your sister here—just be honest with yourself. Once the war ends, with your strength, you'll easily find good work."
Penny, another undercover S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, laughed along, even adding her "kind" words of advice.
How to put it? Most of those around Thor were agents playing roles. Of course, the refugees were real. Providing protection for civilians in war zones was part of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s duty, and the organization rarely hesitated to meddle in Earth's many troubles.
"Dreams of restoring the kingdom..."
Thor forced a smile, remembering just how powerful the enemy he had faced had been. He no longer believed he had that kind of hope.
To have survived at all... it must have been his father's spirit watching over him. Even so, the God of Thunder's heart was still heavy with grief and sorrow. Whenever he recalled Herman's overwhelming strength in that moment, a suffocating despair weighed down upon him.
Of course he was angry.
Of course he wanted to grind Herman into dust.
But what good would hatred do?
"Even if I still had my thunder, against an enemy like that I wouldn't stand a chance. He's a dark god that even Father could not defeat... and now, stripped of my divine power, I'm nothing more than a slightly stronger mortal."
Thor's eyes were filled with pain—a torment he could only bury deep within, with no one he could ever confess it to.
"Speaking of Thunder Gods, I heard the President recruited a mutant for the war a few days ago. Supposedly a Thunder God who could end the fighting."
Uncle Sam shared the gossip with mock seriousness.
"Tsk, tsk. I heard that too. He barely made it to the battlefield before being blown to bits by a Katyusha missile. Just some mutant who could throw a few sparks."
Sheldon, busy cooking for the refugees, sprayed his freshly washed hands with disinfectant and smirked as he mocked the story.
Then he turned to Thor with a teasing grin.
"But at least that Thunder God could conjure a few bolts of lightning. Our Thor here can't even pull off a single trick."
These kinds of jokes had become everyone's favorite amusement.
"Yeah, our Thor can't even do a coin trick."
"The day he first showed up, old man Rhodey smacked him with a mop. Thor was screaming, 'I'm the Norse God of Thunder! How dare you hit me!' while running for his life. If I hadn't lost my phone, I swear I would've recorded it."
Laughter filled the camp as everyone shared Thor's embarrassing stories from the past few days.
"Hahaha..."
Thor gave an awkward chuckle, forcing himself to join in.
He downed a bottle of beer he'd scavenged the day before and sat quietly, staring off at the horizon, offering no explanation to the friends he had only just met.
In these days, once ignorant of Earth, he had learned many of its ways. He discovered that when he told others in all seriousness that he was Thor, the God of Thunder, and recounted his misfortunes, they responded only with ridicule and laughter.
Asgard. Here, it was nothing more than a myth.
Thor had learned that his true identity was best kept hidden. He also learned that stealing apples from an old man meant being chased for miles—that first day, freshly awakened from the trash bin, he had simply been too hungry.
"I heard the president has been buying loads of equipment from the States. Who knows when this war will ever end."
A search team that had just returned from rescuing refugees came back to camp with grim news.
"He's nothing but a lapdog!"
A burly man couldn't hold back his curse at the president of Belarus.
The refugees waiting in line for food wore the same bleak, hollow expressions.
Thor saw this and felt his heart grow even heavier. He knew that his own past actions had been no better than those of this nation's king.
"Father was right..."
Thor lowered his head, lost in mourning and memories of Odin's teachings. He longed to return to his former self as a god.
"But I've already lost that chance."
Fully immersed in Herman's script, Thor's emotions surged so strongly that faint sparks of lightning began to flicker around him. Yet he didn't notice. Having walked off to a corner to cry alone, neither the refugees nor the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents saw it.
"Dinner's ready! Everyone line up for your meals!"
In the script, Sheldon's backstory was that he had once been a renowned chef in Belarus, so naturally his cooking was excellent.
The food was better than expected.
Hearing the call, the refugees quickly formed a long line. As soon as each received a bowl, they began eating eagerly.
The newest arrivals ate with the greatest hunger—no one knew how long they'd gone without food. Even the youngest children devoured their portions with desperate speed.
"Mommy, does this mean we can go back to the way things were before? That we'll always have enough to eat?"
The little one, her mouth messy with crumbs, looked up at her mother with eyes full of hope. But what could her mother, who knew the truth, possibly say?
"There will be a day when this ends."
Forcing a smile, she comforted her child. Beside them, a young man who had lost his entire family muttered dully,
"Will we even live to see the day this war ends?"
No one could answer him.
Those who had been eating heartily paused, their expressions sinking. The grief in their hearts rose again, and when they thought of the future, all felt lost—uncertain if they would ever see dawn again.
"Of course we can!"
Thor had regained his composure and returned to the refugee camp. His voice rang out firm and clear.
He saw how the refugees had sunk into despair, how even the rescue team sat in silence, heads down as they pushed their food around.
Thor understood.
These people needed hope. They needed something to look forward to. They needed a reason to believe in a better future—or else sooner or later, their spirits would break completely.
He wasn't unfamiliar with aiding refugees—he had done so alongside Odin before.
But back then, when they helped those suffering across the Nine Realms, Thor had never once considered that his own wars could bring the same suffering to Asgard's people.
"If even we give up hope, then who will save us from disaster? If our homes are gone, we can rebuild them. If our lands are lost, we can reclaim them. As long as our people remain, we can shape the future with our own hands!"
"A foolish king? Then we can choose not to acknowledge his rule! Either overthrow him—or build a new nation of our own!"
Thor's voice carried everything he had learned from Odin, fused with the hard lessons of these past days. His words were filled with conviction and inspiration.
Many refugees raised their heads to look at him. The despair and numbness in their eyes began to shift.
"How can we possibly fight against those fully armed soldiers?"
Someone sighed.
"There's always a way! They have families too! They're people just like you! And this land beneath your feet—it's yours. You have every right to build a new nation on it!"
Thor still carried a trace of idealism, but he was no longer the same hammer-wielding god he had been.
"If we leave this place, won't we just become exiles, a people without a nation?"
A refugee frowned, voicing his doubt.
"Remember this: a nation is always its people. Wherever the people are, there the nation stands. A nation is not just an empty claim to authority."
Thor's words struck deep, resonating with many. Yes—nations are built by their people. When the people no longer recognize a ruler, then it is that ruler who becomes a fugitive.
At that moment, many refugees turned their eyes to Thor.
They were moved by his words.
"Thor! You've got the makings of a leader! Why don't you become our new king?" shouted an old man with a disability whom Thor had been helping recently.
"Yes! Thor is far better than our president. He even made a wooden toy for my child—he would make a kind and caring leader."
"Even though you once stole my apples, I've seen these past few days that you're a good man. I'll cast my vote for you too!"
"Thor's a strongman—back in ancient times, they would've made him king on that alone!"
"Who makes a king just because he's strong... well, never mind. My wife and I would still vote for Thor."
"Thor has the bearing of a leader—and he beat me at wrestling. I'll follow him."
...
With one man's shout, others quickly joined in, voices rising in agreement. Everyone felt Thor was a good man, always ready to help, clearly someone with the makings of a true leader.
The camp held only a few hundred people, yet they began, in all seriousness, discussing the election of a new leader.
For a group of refugees on the edge of losing their nation, what mattered most was faith—and Thor had already given many of them just that.
In these past days, every bit of Thor's help had been seen and remembered. Gratitude toward him filled the camp. Everyone agreed he was perfectly suited for leadership. After all, Odin's crown prince, raised for millennia to rule, naturally possessed the charisma of a leader.
Those who once followed the Thunder God across the Nine Realms did so not merely because he was Odin's son, but because Thor carried the natural authority of a commander.
The refugees of Belarus longed for just such a responsible leader. And so, within a camp of only a few hundred, talk of electing a new "king" became a serious matter—though some perhaps joined only for the sake of the spectacle.
However…
For the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents hidden among the refugees and rescue teams, the sight sent a jolt of panic through them.
Others might not realize the truth. But how could they not?
The man before them was the true God of Thunder! Of course he carried a leader's bearing—he was the crown prince of Asgard, heir to an alien civilization!
But that was Asgard's business. It had nothing to do with Earth.
S.H.I.E.L.D.'s original plan was simple: let the play run its course, then send Thor back to Asgard. But now the situation was clearly veering out of control.
As the refugees pressed him with their proposals, Thor, who believed his own people were already lost, began to waver.
"Leading these refugees to rebuild their homeland... perhaps this is the mission Father intended for me from beyond."
The God of Thunder felt as though he had discovered a path to redemption.
Seeing Thor on the verge of making a decision, the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents only grew more frantic.
What kind of madness was this? How could the mighty Thor possibly end up becoming the ruler of Belarus? This wasn't the mission they had been assigned at all!