A flash of golden light swept across the Destroyer's frame—
its bullet wounds sealed instantly.
Then it swung a blazing fist at Lucas, the strike roaring like a shell leaving a cannon, air rippling from the heat and pressure.
Lucas slid sideways, planted a foot on the Destroyer's incoming fist, vaulted upward, and spun sharply in midair.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Gunfire poured down like a rain of falling stars.
The Destroyer's armor was riddled with holes in an instant—
and then, with a streak of green light and a sudden gale, its armored body was sliced neatly into more than a dozen pieces.
BOOM!
The Destroyer collapsed like a disintegrating tower.
The cuts were mirror-smooth;
every rune carved into the armor was split cleanly in two.
The magic within them dispersed—
and the Destroyer was, for all intents and purposes, totaled.
Lucas had no intention of leaving the remains behind.
Uru metal was far too precious—
a rare metal with exceptional affinity for magic.
Odin once wore this armor as he conquered the Nine Realms and secured his throne as the All-Father.
Its abilities required no elaboration.
But what Lucas valued most wasn't the enchantments—
it was the raw elemental resonance of the Uru itself.
He planned to have Tony craft suits for Gwen, Skye, and Wanda—
melding Uru metal with vibranium.
Uru's ability to channel magical energy was perfect for Wanda.
And combined with vibranium, the metal could reduce the recoil from Skye's quake powers while enhancing their output through Uru's synergy.
Even Gwen—who didn't fire energy blasts—would gain shock absorption and magical resistance from such a blend.
As for the other Spider-Man, Peter…
that depended entirely on his fate with Tony.
If things unfolded like the previous life—
if he became Tony's honorary son—
then gear wouldn't be a problem.
Tony would deck him out instantly.
Lucas wouldn't need to worry at all.
With that in mind, Lucas swept all the Destroyer's pieces into his system backpack, saving them for Tony's research.
---
Suddenly—
thunder exploded through the sky.
Dark clouds gathered, swirling like ink.
Lightning coiled within them—endless, roaring.
Mjolnir rose slowly from the ground, acting like a lightning rod as every bolt in the heavens bent toward it—
before the hammer streaked straight toward Thor.
Jane watched in horror as—
Thor's hand shot up, grabbing Mjolnir.
Lightning surged through him.
Metal scales materialized across his body, locking into place.
The gleaming armor of the God of Thunder formed once more.
"AAAHHH—!!"
Thor roared, blue lightning crackling through his eyes.
The God of Thunder had returned.
Jane and Sif stared, each with different emotions—
Sif with joy, Jane with stunned disbelief.
"So you really are the God of Thunder…"
Jane circled him, still in shock.
"Of course! I told you I never lie." Thor puffed his chest. "I am Thor, God of Thunder!"
He was already back to his inexhaustibly energetic self.
"We need to return to Asgard," Sif said.
"Yes—and I have a score to settle with Loki."
Thor spun Mjolnir, lightning dancing around it.
Lucas suddenly had an idea.
A theory he wanted to test.
He extended a hand toward Mjolnir—
WHOOSH—!
The hammer tore itself from Thor's grip
and flew obediently into Lucas' palm.
A joyful thrum pulsed through him.
Mjolnir still acknowledged him.
Thor was dumbstruck.
His beloved hammer—
flying straight into someone else's hand—
RIGHT in front of him.
This was spiritual NTR on the highest level.
If he tolerated this, he didn't deserve to call himself the God of Thunder.
"You again?! You stole my hammer before—and now you want to take it AGAIN? I'll tear you apart!!"
Thor launched himself forward, fist cocked, moving so fast he left afterimages—
BAM!
—only to be flattened instantly by a single hammer strike from Lucas.
Cracks of lightning split across Thor's chestplate.
"Cough—! Impossible…
How can you summon lightning?!"
Thor's anger burned hotter.
He couldn't accept that a mortal from Midgard wielded thunder better than he did.
Lucas scoffed.
"Already upset? Odin's judgment really is terrible.
If it were up to me, I'd give the throne to Loki.
Better a cunning god than a reckless fool.
God of Thunder? Please."
Thor froze.
Lucas continued mercilessly, thinking of the infamous temperament of the old Germanic tribes whose myths birthed Asgard.
Brave but brash—
and yes, often stupid.
"And without your hammer," Lucas added, "you're nothing. No right to wield it, no right to be king.
Who rules the Nine Realms?
You?
Or the hammer?"
He tossed Mjolnir back to Thor and walked toward the edge of town, leaving a dazed, existentially shattered Thor standing there like his soul had left his body.
"Thor, don't listen to that mortal!"
Sif rushed to him.
"You are the God of Thunder! Asgard needs you!"
Her words pulled Thor out of his stupor.
He glared after Lucas.
"When I've dealt with Asgard's crisis, I'll come find you—and I'll show you my true strength!"
Lucas waved lazily.
"I'll be waiting."
"What's your name, Midgardian?!"
"Lucas."
Thor memorized it.
After a clingy goodbye with Jane, he began calling Heimdall.
Again.
And again.
And again.
But no Bifrost descended.
Thor, Sif, Fandral, and a groggy Volstagg stood there awkwardly in heroic poses… accomplishing nothing.
Meanwhile, at the Bifrost—
the frozen Heimdall heard Thor's call.
Summoning all his divine strength—
he burst through the ice encasing him.
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