Marvel: Reincarnated as the Fire Goddess of Asgard Chapter 84 84: Emergency

At least once a week, Marvica Odinson travels through the Bifrost Bridge fragnts within the sun-blaze thousand suns to Helheim to visit Hela.

The sisters spar in Helheim, engaging in a hearty battle using flas and the black sword.

When in the mood, Marvica Odinson participates in motorcycle races.

She puts on her leather suit, dons her helt, and competes against those human racers on the track.

She doesn't use divine power, doesn't cheat, relying purely on skill and reflexes.

Even so, she always wins.

After the race, she takes off her helt, smiles at the racers and spectators who co to congratulate her, then rides away, leaving nothing behind.

Life is relaxed, comfortable, and fulfilling.

Until that night.

It was the end of 1991, at dusk; the sunset dyed the sky orange-red, neon lights began to light up the streets of New York, and the crowds getting off work hurried towards ho.

Tony is in his private workshop on the top floor of Stark Industries, tuning a newly designed electronic control system for Marvica Odinson's motorcycle.

This system can monitor vehicle status in real-ti, predict potential failures, and even automatically adjust power output and braking force in ergencies to increase safety.

"Although I feel that with your riding style, no matter how advanced the auxiliary system is, it can't save you," Tony says to Marvica Odinson, who is sitting next to him, while welding a circuit board.

"But at least it can save from repairing the bike a few tis."

Marvica Odinson is flipping through a motorcycle magazine, not even looking up: "You say this is the last major repair every ti, but there's always sothing new to replace."

"That's because you always find new ways to break it!" Tony puts down the soldering iron and turns around.

"Last week it was the shock absorber, the week before last it was the gearbox, and the week before that it was the fra weld... Marvica Odinson, this bike is theoretically capable of race-level usage intensity, but you insist on riding it like an off-road rally bike. Where exactly are you riding it?"

Marvica Odinson thinks for a mont: "Found an abandoned forest road a few days ago; the road conditions are quite interesting, with many undulations and sharp turns."

"Forest road?" Tony raises his voice: "You ride a sports motorcycle on a forest road? That's a place for off-road bikes!"

"That's why the shock absorber broke!" Marvica Odinson shrugs, her tone relaxed: "Didn't you replace it with a more durable set?"

Tony sighs and picks up the tools again: "I must have owed you in my past life."

Although he has almost resigned himself to his fate, Tony still doesn't mince words.

For so ti now, he and Marvica Odinson have ford a peculiar way of getting along: Tony complains that Marvica Odinson doesn't cherish the vehicle, Marvica Odinson accepts the complaints with a smile but never changes, and then Tony complains while fixing the bike even better.

Marvica Odinson doesn't mind this at all; she likes Tony's straightforward personality.

The two chat back and forth, and the workshop is filled with the sizzling sound of welding, the clinking of tools, and light conversation.

The sky outside the window gradually darkens, the city lights turn on one by one, and from the top floor, the night view of New York looks like a brilliant sea of stars.

Just then, Marvica Odinson suddenly pauses.

Her fingers, which were flipping through the magazine, stop in mid-air, and her whole posture freezes for a mont.

Tony, not waiting for a reply from Marvica Odinson, looks up at her.

"What?" Tony says half-jokingly: "Finally realized your riding is too aggressive and have nothing to say?"

Marvica Odinson ignores him.

The next second, she stands up abruptly, the magazine slides off her lap and hits the floor with a soft "pop".

Her movents are so fast and sudden that Tony doesn't react in ti.

"Tony." Marvica Odinson's voice has changed; it is no longer the relaxed, casual tone, but a calm, serious, and urgent tone.

"There's an ergency, I need to leave for a while."

Tony instinctively says: "Your bike isn't ready yet; why don't you just find one from my garage? That Ducati should..."

He doesn't finish his sentence because Marvica Odinson has already reached the window.

The workshop's window is a floor-to-ceiling glass panel, with Manhattan's brilliant night view and a hundred-ter drop outside.

"That would be too late," Marvica Odinson says without looking back: "It's fine, I'll go by myself."

While speaking, she has already unlatched the window.

So biting cold wind rushes in imdiately, carrying the city's noise and the sll of car exhaust.

Tony finally realizes what Marvica Odinson is about to do; he stands up and reaches out to stop her: "Wait, what are you doing? This is the eighty-seventh floor!"

But he quickly freezes in place, staring wide-eyed.

He sees flas ignite on Marvica Odinson.

Golden-red flas rise from the surface of her skin, first as tiny sparks, then rapidly spreading, instantly enveloping her whole body.

The flas are warm but not scorching, the light bright but not dazzling, appearing like a small Sun in the dim workshop.

Her golden-red long hair dances in the flas, those strands themselves seeming to turn into a part of the fire.

Then, she takes a step forward and steps directly into the air.

Tony's mouth is wide open, the wrench in his hand falls to the floor with a "clang", bouncing a few tis on the tal floor before rolling into a corner.

But he doesn't notice it at all; all his attention is drawn to the scene before him.

Marvica Odinson transforms into a fireball.

The fireball rushes out of the eighty-seventh-floor window, piercing the night sky of New York, leaving a golden-red trail of light.

Its speed is extrely fast; almost in the blink of an eye, it has beco a small dot in the distant sky, then disappears into the night.

The workshop falls back into silence, with only the window still open, the night wind blowing the curtains, and Tony's own rapid breathing.

He stands there, motionless, as if he has turned into a statue.

She... she flew away?

Hell...

Although they have been together for so long, Tony has discovered that Marvica Odinson is no ordinary person.

Her incredible riding skills, her tireless energy, her disregard for danger, and the unusual respect his father has for her...

All of these suggest she is extraordinary. But Tony never expected that this woman could actually fly?

And, were those flas that ignited on her just now? Real, active flas that wrapped around her whole body without causing any damage?

Tony slowly walks to the window and leans out.

Below are the streets of New York, cars as tiny as toys, pedestrians moving like ants.

In the distance, the golden-red trail of light has completely dissipated, the night sky has returned to calm, and only the stars are twinkling.

He grips the window fra, his fingers turning white from the force.

The cold wind blows on his face, allowing him to gradually recover from the shock.