"How the hell did everything go to shit…? It wasn't supposed to be like this," Owen muttered, his eyes fixed on the icy structure rising in the distance like a frozen fortress straight out of a nightmare.
Up there, standing with an air of superiority, the Frost Giants watched from above. They were colossal, with pale blue skin like frozen corpses and eyes that glowed with a cold, rciless light. Soldiers and tanks kept arriving, surrounding the area with weapons ready, but the giants didn't seem worried. They rely looked down with mockery, as if humanity were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
At Owen's side, Thor stood firm, his jaw tight with rage. The fury boiled beneath his skin—not just from seeing his enemies here, but from how they had arrived: by using the Bifrost.
Of course he recognized that light. He had used it countless tis… and had also fallen through it when he was exiled from Asgard.
"I must return to Asgard. If the Jotuns used the Bifrost… they may have reached there as well. I need to make sure Asgard is safe," Thor said, genuine concern creeping into his voice.
"If you go, I'm sure they'll start the war early. They just want us to hand you over so it looks like we're submitting… Besides, you still haven't recovered your powers," Owen replied calmly, looking at Thor seriously.
Those words hit Thor hard. He knew it was true. In his current state, he was no match for the Jotuns.
"What intel do you have, Owen?" asked General Nathaniel, approaching with a firm stride and a deep, commanding voice.
"Old man? What are you doing here?" asked Owen, surprised to see him—and visibly concerned as well.
"Obviously, one of the generals had to co. I volunteered," Nathaniel replied calmly, though his gaze was sharp as steel.
Owen sighed lightly and shook his head before speaking clearly and directly.
"That's Thor, the God of Thunder. He was exiled from Asgard by his father for being an arrogant brat," he said, pointing at Thor, who raised his eyes with restrained annoyance. "Those are Jotuns, Frost Giants from Jotunheim, a realm of eternal cold. They were defeated long ago by Odin… but the arrogant brat here nearly started a new war while Odin was at his weakest. Yesterday, Loki appeared—the God of Lies, Thor's brother. He said Odin had died… though that's unlikely. Still, with the Jotuns now showing up using the Bifrost, suspicion is growing. We can't rule out that Loki might have sent them."
Nathaniel blinked, as if everything he was hearing was just aningless noise.
"Wait… did you say Jotuns? What the hell are those things? And Thor, Odin, Loki? Are you talking about Norse mythology?" he asked, stunned.
"Yes," Owen replied with a half-smile. That made Nathaniel scowl, feeling mocked—but when he looked again at the strange beings atop the icy fortress, his irritation turned into tense concern.
"What are their demands?" Nathaniel asked.
"Thor. As soon as they arrived, a ssenger said: 'Hand over Thor, and the conquest of your world will be quicker and less painful. But if you choose to resist… we'll enjoy destroying every last one of your hopes,'" Owen repeated word for word.
"So if we hand over the arrogant brat or not… they'll destroy the planet?" Nathaniel muttered, while Thor clenched his jaw tightly at that nickna once again.
"That's what it sounds like," Owen said calmly. "We sent an agent to try to establish contact… he hasn't returned yet. Honestly, I think it was a bad idea."
"Yeah. It definitely was," Nathaniel responded—just as everyone saw one of the giants lift sothing with one hand. It was red… dark, and dripping.
In the next second, he hurled it through the air directly at the military zone.
The soldiers backed away imdiately, expecting it to be a bomb.
But when it landed between several tanks… it didn't explode.
Owen walked toward it cautiously, frowning. When he saw what it was, his expression hardened.
It was a human. His body had been crushed, twisted like a ball… and then tossed aside with utter disdain.
Owen turned slowly, and with his enhanced vision, looked toward the entrance of the fortress—where two giants were laughing together.
Without hesitation, Owen stepped toward one of the tanks and jumped onto it, ready to move in.
"Stop, brat," said Nathaniel seriously. Though his tone was calm, his gaze burned with restrained fury. "If you attack, the war begins. We don't know how strong they really are. You've got skills, powers, or whatever… but we need more support. Tony and Nicholas are on their way. Stark said he's bringing Jas Rhodes and will lend him a suit. We're preparing a defense. In the anti, they gave us ti—and we're going to use it. We'll do everything we can to keep our soldiers alive. If we need traps, pits, or mines, we'll build them. If we need our best weapons… we'll bring them," the general said firmly.
"I see the general thinks the sa way I do," ca a nearby voice, filled with confidence.
Nathaniel turned, frowning as he recognized the figure approaching with a firm stride.
"Fury," he said in a dry tone. "You look just as young as when I first t you… did you find the fountain of youth or sothing?" he added with a slight smirk, though the tension never left his face.
"Maybe I just have better genes," Nick Fury replied in his usual calm, enigmatic tone. Behind him ca Barton, Coulson, Natasha, and several S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.
Owen, seeing the group, locked eyes on one of them—Brock Rumlow. He recognized him instantly. A HYDRA infiltrator. A chilling reminder that even in the midst of an alien invasion, the true enemies could be standing right next to them.
"We brought the best n to support the mission. I hope you don't mind working with S.H.I.E.L.D. again, General," Fury said calmly, looking straight at Nathaniel.
The general narrowed his eyes with visible discomfort.
"I'll admit, when it cos to defense, S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't bad… but working with you is. I haven't forgotten what happened that day," Nathaniel said with a serious, controlled tone. "For now, I'll put it aside. But listen closely: if any of my n are used in one of your damned plans, if you sacrifice them without hesitation like in the past… I swear I'll kill you myself. And I won't care if you bring all of S.H.I.E.L.D. with you."
Nearby S.H.I.E.L.D. soldiers frowned, tense from the direct threat.
"I'll keep that in mind," Fury replied without flinching, then signaled his agents to take their positions.
He then walked away, accompanied by Natasha and Barton.
Owen watched them disappear into the distance and couldn't hold back his curiosity.
"Hey, old man… what happened between you and Fury?" he asked, intrigued, his eyes still fixed ahead.
"Don't worry about that, kid. Focus on what's in front of you," Nathaniel replied in a dry tone before walking off.
Owen let out a sigh and turned to Thor, who still seed lost in thought.
"For now, Thor… you need to beco worthy. In two days. We've got a lot to read, and a lot to learn," Owen said seriously, staring at him.
Thor gave only a slight nod, completely confused, unsure of what exactly he was supposed to do.
…
anwhile, in Asgard…
Loki sat on the king's throne with an arrogant smile on his face. The Great Hall was almost empty—he had dismissed most of the guards. The echo of his laughter rang between the golden pillars and ancient statues. He felt invincible.
Even Heimdall had been removed from his post, accused of "disobedience" and "disrespect." The new keeper of the Bifrost was a strange-looking man with a distorted face and hollow gaze, personally chosen by Loki.
Hours earlier, several individuals had used the Bifrost in a coordinated manner. It was noticed, heard… but no one dared ask questions. The realm now lived under the yoke of a new king—a dictator without limits who listened to no counsel, not even from his own mother.
Frigga remained by Odin's bedside, who had fallen into a deep sleep so ti ago… and had yet to awaken.
"Ha, ha, ha… If the Frost Giants kill Thor, it'll be because he sought war. It's his fault for being such an idiot," Loki said aloud, not caring that no one was there to hear. "Afterwards, I'll simply save Midgard… and be hailed as the just and noble king who rescued them," he added with scorn, his voice dripping with contempt.
He sneered as he rembered Owen… and how that man knew pieces of his past that he would rather keep buried. If Owen knew, then others might know too. And rumors… rumors spread.
As Loki drifted deeper into paranoid theories and sinister plans, deep within Asgard, the Warriors Three and Lady Sif walked through a dark corridor until they reached a reinforced cell, where Heimdall sat calmly behind bars.
"Brother, are you alright? What happened?" Lady Sif asked, kneeling in front of him.
"I'm fine. Don't worry about . What matters is that you return to Midgard as soon as possible… Thor needs you," said Heimdall, his voice calm but urgent. "Loki has lost his mind. And he's the only one who can stop him."
"Loki…" Sif repeated, frowning, torn between confusion and anger.
"Leave before he realizes," Heimdall urged, glancing toward a corner as if sensing an invisible presence.
"Don't worry, brother. We'll bring Thor back… and he'll get you out of here," Lady Sif promised before leaving with the others.
Heimdall remained silent for a few monts. Then he muttered to himself, his eyes faintly glowing:
"Why is everything so different from how it was ant to be…?"
For the first ti since he had received the vision of fate as Asgard's guardian… his precognition had failed. The future he now saw was sothing else. One that should never have existed.
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