Xu Wenwu had perhaps a tenth of a second to register Thor's descent before lightning consud his world.
The bolt struck with the force of divine judgnt, electricity cascading across Xu Wenwu's body in brilliant arcs. His ten rings tried to form a defensive barrier, but berserker Thor gave them no ti. The attack bypassed his defenses through sheer overwhelming power, and Xu Wenwu flew backward, his body tumbling through the air like a ragdoll.
Indignation flared hot in his chest even through the pain. Unsportsmanlike didn't begin to cover it. The match was over. He'd won fairly. And this Asgardian god was attacking him—a thousand-year-old man who'd already claid victory—like so petulant child throwing a tantrum.
Thor's instincts registered Smith Doyle's approach as threat. New target. New obstacle. The mindless lightning in his eyes focused, and he lashed out with crackling electricity.
Smith's hand closed around Thor's arm like a vice. His other hand ford a blade-edge, every ounce of his power channeling into the strike. The Destroyer armor on his left forearm blazed with activation, adding its thirty percent enhancent.
"Wake up!" Smith's shout carried command authority that could have stopped armies.
His hand-blade struck the back of Thor's neck with surgical precision.
The blow contained enough force to shatter mountains. Smith held nothing back—full power, enhanced by Asgardian Uru tal, delivered to a nerve cluster that would drop even a god.
Lightning crackled and died. Thor's eyes rolled back, consciousness extinguished like a candle in a hurricane. His body went limp mid-descent.
Smith caught Thor before he could crash, then drove the unconscious Asgardian into the ground with controlled force. Not enough to cause injury, but sufficient to ensure Thor stayed down.
The crater that ford was modest by the day's standards—only a few feet deep. Smith pulled Thor from the divot and gestured to nearby staff mbers.
"Take him to Jane Foster in the spectator section," Smith ordered. "Handle him carefully."
As the Fraternity operatives moved to comply, Smith allowed himself a quiet exhale of relief. Thor had only tapped into a fraction of his true lightning power—instinct and rage granting access to abilities he didn't consciously know he possessed. If Thor had fully awakened, if the berserker fury had unlocked his complete potential as the God of Thunder...
Smith had been prepared to transform into his Great Ape form. Twenty tis power multiplication, sacrificing speed for overwhelming strength, accepting the risk of property damage to contain a rampaging god.
Fortunately, recognizing Thor's irrational state had suggested a simpler solution. One precise strike. Lights out.
Problem solved.
The spectators stared at Smith Doyle with expressions ranging from shock to newfound wariness.
No one had expected the tournant organizer to possess such overwhelming power. Thor Odinson—the Asgardian god who'd vaporized an entire arena platform, who'd demonstrated divine fury beyond mortal comprehension—had been rendered unconscious with a single strike.
One hit.
The implication settled over the crowd like a heavy blanket. Smith Doyle had been refereeing these matches with power held severely in reserve. If he could knock out Thor that easily, what were his actual limits?
Suddenly, his role as guarantor of contestant safety made perfect sense. He genuinely could protect them from god-tier threats.
Tony Stark's faceplate reflected the arena lights as he processed what he'd witnessed. "Is this Smith's true strength?" he muttered, though JARVIS picked up the subvocalization clearly.
The AI had no response. Its databases contained no adequate comparison.
In the Eternals' section, all ten immortals had gone still and attentive. Ajak's serene expression showed the barest hint of reassessnt. Ikaris's arms uncrossed, his posture shifting from casual observation to genuine interest.
"No wonder they have the confidence to host this tournant," Gilgash rumbled. "That speed. That precision. We only saw a fraction of his capabilities, but it was enough."
Thena's golden eyes tracked Smith as he supervised Thor's removal. A new variable in her tactical calculations.
Karl Mordo sat frozen in his seat, his analytical mind struggling to reconcile what he'd witnessed. The superhero called GOD—Smith Doyle of the Fraternity—possessed power that exceeded his most generous estimates. One strike to incapacitate an Asgardian deity.
The Ancient One had been right to keep watch on this man. Right to prevent Odin from making contact. Whatever Smith Doyle truly was, he operated on a level that transcended ordinary enhanced humans.
T'Chaka's fingers gripped his armrest hard enough to leave impressions. The demonstration of power confird his worst fears. If Smith Doyle decided he wanted Wakanda's vibranium, what could possibly stop him? The Black Panther would be less than an inconvenience against soone who could one-shot the God of Thunder.
The secret had to remain hidden. At all costs.
Throughout the Fraternity sections, Smith's people erupted in cheers. "GOD! GOD! GOD!" The chant built on itself, hundreds of voices rging into a thunderous declaration of faith in their leader.
They'd always known he was powerful. But seeing him demonstrate that power against a literal god? That inspired loyalty beyond re professionalism.
Inside Eddie Brock's body, Venom stirred with almost religious fervor. "This is the peak physique," the symbiote's voice reverberated through Eddie's mind. "If I bonded with Smith Doyle, the combination would be unstoppable. Beyond anything imaginable."
Eddie's ntal response carried skepticism born of self-awareness. "Do you really think the boss would let you parasitize him?"
"Parasitize?" Venom sounded almost offended. "If it were Mr. Smith Doyle, I would gladly transform into battle armor for him to wield. Not partnership. Service."
That stopped Eddie's internal monologue cold. "Wait, you can transform into just armor? Why didn't I know about this?"
Venom's tone carried unmistakable smugness. "You're too weak, Eddie. Battle armor mode requires a host with sufficient baseline power to support the transformation. Your physiology couldn't handle it."
Eddie wisely chose not to pursue that particular line of conversation.
Across the destroyed arena floor, Baymax robots erged in coordinated swarms. Their soft, rounded forms moved with surprising efficiency, plasma cutters and welding torches working in perfect synchronization. The androids rebuilt the gold-titanium platform with assembly-line precision, each unit handling its designated section without need for verbal coordination.
The audience watched with fascination as tons of molten tal were poured, shaped, cooled, and polished. Advanced materials science made manifest through robotic labor.
Within minutes, the arena stood complete and pristine, showing no evidence of the devastation Thor's lightning had inflicted.
Eddie Brock descended to the restored platform, his symbiote-enhanced voice carrying across the venue. "Regarding Thor Odinson's post-match attack on a competitor—considering his unconscious and irrational state at the ti—he is hereby issued a formal warning."
Eddie's tone hardened slightly. "Should he commit a similar offense in any future Dragon Ball tournant, he will be permanently disqualified from participation."
The warning was delivered with absolute authority. No room for negotiation or appeal.
In the spectator section, Thor groaned and opened his eyes. Consciousness returned in fragnts—Jane Foster's worried face above him, Darcy hovering nearby with uncharacteristic concern, and a splitting headache that suggested he'd been hit by sothing very large and very hard.
"What happened?" Thor's voice ca out rough, confused. The last clear mory he possessed was Xu Wenwu's ten-ring strike launching him into the ocean.
Jane's explanation ca in rushed, excited fragnts. He'd summoned lightning without Mjolnir. Attacked after the match ended. Been knocked unconscious by Smith Doyle with a single strike.
Thor tried to reproduce the feat—summoning lightning without his hamr—but nothing happened. His hands remained frustratingly normal, no electricity crackling along his fingertips. Whatever he'd accessed in his berserker state remained locked away from conscious control.
The realization that he'd lost hit harder than Smith's knockout blow. No tournant victory. No wish. No resurrection for Loki.
His brother would remain lost in the cosmic void, dead, while Thor lived with the failure.
Darcy, perhaps sensing Thor's spiraling depression, interjected with forced cheer. "Hey, silver lining? This was the second Dragon Ball tournant. That ans there'll be a third one next year. You can try again."
The simple observation pulled Thor back from the edge of despair. She was right. This wasn't his only chance. Just his first failed attempt. He could train, prepare, return stronger for the next cycle.
Small comfort, but comfort nonetheless.
The audience showed no objection to the tournant organizers' ruling. Thor's attack had been clearly irrational, born of unconscious rage rather than malice. A warning seed proportionate.
Xu Wenwu, when consulted, dismissed the incident with magnanimous indifference. He'd already secured four Dragon Ball coins. Three more victories would grant him the right to wish for his wife's resurrection. One god's tantrum ant nothing asured against that goal.
Eddie's voice bood across the arena once more. "Now, please welco our final competitors for this round—Tony Stark and Thena!"
Tony's repulsors ignited, lifting him smoothly onto the restored arena platform. His HUD displayed damage assessnts from the Thor match—seventeen percent structural integrity loss, hairline fractures in chest and torso plating, micro-servo damage in the right shoulder joint.
Not ideal. But he'd fought in worse condition.
Thena materialized on the opposite side of the arena in a shimr of golden light, her cosmic armor gleaming under the sun. No weapon manifested yet, but her stance radiated coiled readiness.
Smith Doyle appeared between them. "The match begins now."
He vanished.
Thena launched forward imdiately, crossing half the arena's diater in three explosive strides. Tony barely had ti to raise his arms defensively before she was on him, a golden spear materializing mid-strike.
The blade targeted the visible crack in his chest plating with surgical precision.
Tony twisted aside, repulsors firing to carry him clear. The spear missed by centiters, and he fired both palm cannons in retaliation.
Thena flowed around the energy blasts like water, already adjusting her angle of attack. She'd watched his match against Thor. Studied the damage patterns. Every strike she attempted targeted the compromised sections of his armor—the fractures, the stress points, the weaknesses that would cascade into catastrophic failure.
Five thousand years of combat experience made her frighteningly efficient. Her attack speed exceeded anything Tony had trained against, each blow flowing into the next with no wasted motion. She wasn't trying to overpower the secondary adamantium. She was trying to dismantle it through precise structural failure.
"JARVIS," Tony grunted, dodging another spear thrust that would have punched through his cracked chest plate, "scan Thena's attack patterns and provide optimal defensive responses."
"Acknowledged, sir. Initiating combat analysis."
The AI's processing power engaged fully, high-speed caras tracking Thena's every movent. Strike angles. Weapon transitions. Footwork patterns. Timing between attacks. Everything fed into tactical algorithms designed to predict and counter.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
Tony weathered the assault through secondary adamantium's durability, the exotic alloy absorbing punishnt that would have shredded gold-titanium in seconds. He fired palm cannons when opportunities presented, tried to gain distance through flight, attempted to control engagent range.
Nothing worked.
Thena stayed close, her speed making distance irrelevant. The cracks in Tony's armor widened with each precisely placed strike, and despite his best evasion efforts, several blows connected with compromised sections.
His HUD flashed warnings—structural integrity dropping to twelve percent in the chest section, nine percent in the left torso plating.
"Scan complete," JARVIS announced, the AI's tone carrying sothing that might have been confidence if machines could feel such things. "Optimal response protocols generated and ready for implentation."
Tony's lips curved into a grim smile inside his helt. "Leave it to you, JARVIS. Start the counterattack."
Control transferred seamlessly. Tony's conscious mind stepped back, allowing JARVIS full access to the armor's motor systems and tactical responses.
The difference was imdiate and dramatic.
Thena's spear thrust toward Tony's damaged chest plate, following the pattern she'd established over the previous exchanges. The attack should have connected—sa speed, sa precision, sa targeting philosophy that had worked repeatedly.
Tony's armored hand snapped out with machine precision and caught the spear.
Thena's eyes widened fractionally. That shouldn't have been possible. She'd been varying her attack timing specifically to prevent interception.
Tony's other hand rose, palm cannon already charged. The blast fired point-blank at Thena's torso.
Her left hand moved in a blur, cosmic energy coalescing into a circular shield. The repulsor beam struck the barrier and dispersed harmlessly, absorbed by the construct's defensive properties.
But before Thena could wrench her spear free, multiple target locks appeared on her position. Tony's shoulder-mounted micro-missile pods deployed with chanical precision.
Six projectiles launched in rapid sequence, streaking toward Thena from multiple vectors.
She couldn't dodge while locked in the grapple. Couldn't block while maintaining her shield. The tactical trap closed around her with machine efficiency.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
JARVIS detonated the missiles before they reached Thena—close enough for concussive force and shrapnel, far enough to avoid damaging Tony's own armor. The explosions bracketed Thena's position, and smoke billowed outward in thick clouds.
Through the expanding haze, Tony's chest-mounted unibeam charged to full power. Energy readings spiked as JARVIS diverted every available watt to the primary weapon system.
The beam lanced through the smoke, white-hot particle energy concentrated into a ter-wide column of devastating force.
JARVIS's control allowed simultaneous multi-vector attacks that human reflexes couldn't coordinate. Missiles for area denial. Repulsors for sustained pressure. Unibeam for overwhelming damage. All firing in perfect tactical sequence, each attack flowing into the next without conscious thought slowing the transitions.
Thena had been caught off-guard—not by superior power, but by the sudden shift from human-limited responses to AI-optimized combat protocols.
The smoke from the explosions enveloped the surrounding area, obscuring both combatants from the audience's view.
User Comments
0 comments from readers