Thor seized Atlas by the throat mid-air, fingers digging into flesh reinforced by LAW and demon bone alike, lightning screaming around them as the storm god dragged him upward.
Atlas felt skin tear.
Not just skin—definition. LAW strained imdiately, screaming warnings through his nervous system as Thor's grip crushed not only windpipe and vertebrae, but the rules holding Atlas together. The pressure was intimate, deliberate. Thor wasn't trying to kill him quickly.
He wanted him to feel small.
The clouds did not part politely. They were ripped aside, peeled back in violent layers, revealing sothing beneath the sky that no mortal was ever ant to see.
Thor punched Atlas in the face.
The impact did not rely snap Atlas's head sideways.
It erased the space between where they were and where they were going.
Reality folded. There Traverse continuing, and continuing, reaching the Dark continent.
The upper firmant gave way first—blue bleeding into silver, silver into gold. Then the gold collapsed into roots.
Atlas's body smashed through the threshold of the world like a projectile fired by a god who had forgotten restraint.
Yggdrasil's outer canopy lood like a corpse of light and shadow, its branches etched with runes older than worship, its leaves whispering nas of worlds long dead.
Thor hit him again.
This ti with the back of his hand.
Atlas's spine slamd into one of those spectral limbs, pain exploding through him as concepts—not matter—scraped against his skin. mory, ti, oath, lineage.
Every impact tore at more than flesh. He felt monts he had never lived claw at his consciousness—wars before mortals had language, vows sworn by gods who no longer existed, blood spilled in ages where blood ant destiny.
LAW flared automatically, frantic, patching fractures, forcing reality to accept him one mont longer.
Thor did not slow.
He roared, voice echoing across layers of existence, and dragged Atlas downward—
—and punched him again.
They fell.
The canopy of Yggdrasil shattered behind them into drifting leaves of light as gravity inverted, reasserted, broke, reasserted again.
Atlas's body twisted unnaturally as Thor held his face with one hand and used him as an anchor, slamming him through thresholds like doors kicked open by a god too angry to knock.
Reality broke. With the sheer force of Thor's punch. Bursting into a whole new reality.
They burst into Valhalla.
Not the glory mortals dread of—but the truth of it.
Phantom battlefields stretched infinitely in every direction, skyless and blood-soaked, where dead gods and heroes still fought wars that never ended. Steel rang without sound. Spears pierced without killing. Faces twisted in eternal fury and joy alike.
Thor smashed Atlas's skull into the ground.
The dead didn't stop fighting.
They simply adjusted, their forms phasing around the impact as if the violence were just another familiar rhythm.
Atlas's vision blurred red and gold.
What the actual fuck....Not like this, he thought, teeth clenched as blood tore free from his mouth and stread upward in the wrong direction. Not like this...I feel like I'm getting erased from sheer volu of raw power.
Thor lifted him and threw him sideways—
—and Valhalla collapsed into screaming heat. Reality breaking once more.
They tore through Hell.
Not the upper layers Atlas knew. Second layer.
A collapsed myth-layer where titans had once died screaming, their corpses fused into the architecture of punishnt itself. The place where frost was everything.
Gravity scread here. The air tasted like ice and old sins. Chains thicker than castles snapped as Atlas's body smashed through them, bells tolling as ancient wardings broke under the force.
{My body, stay strong, stay steady}
LAW flared again, violently, sealing fractures as Atlas's ribs shattered, his organs liquefied and reford in the sa breath. Yggdrasil essence burned through him like wildfire through dry roots.
Thor headbutted him.
The impact created a shockwave that flattened icey demon-legions three layers away.
Atlas's consciousness flickered.
Thor did not allow it to fade.
He punched him again.
They burst back into the mortal world, opening sky like cannon fire.
Thor hurled him away like refuse.
Atlas spun, barely catching himself, boots skidding across nothing, lungs burning as the cold bit deeper than frost ever could.
The air slled of ozone and god-blood now, sharp and electric, coating his tongue with bitterness. His jaw hung wrong for half a second before LAW snapped it back into place with a wet crack.
Thor hovered opposite him, massive form frad by writhing stormclouds, lightning crawling across his skin like living veins.
His eyes were clearer now.
Awake.
"You wanted a war of LAWs," Thor said, voice booming, amused and contemptuous all at once. "So I brought you one without a field."
He extended his hand.
"Co back."
Mjölnir answered.
The hamr scread across the sky, tearing space as it returned, its passage leaving behind a white-hot scar that refused to heal. Atlas's eyes narrowed. LAW surged through him, thin and dangerous, like drawing a blade across one's own palm.
{That which returns} Atlas said hoarsely, blood dripping from his nose, pooling briefly before evaporating, {must answer before it leaves.}
Reality convulsed.
Mjölnir froze.
Not slowed.
Not deflected.
Stopped.
The hamr hung between them, trembling, runes blazing furiously as if offended by the audacity of it. The storm around it bucked and snarled, thunder strangled into static.
The sky groaned under the strain, layers of atmosphere compressing inward as if trying to crush the defiance out of existence.
Thor stared at his empty hand.
For a heartbeat, the world waited.
Then Thor laughed.
"Ohh... hahahaha...HAHAHAHA... even after those punches, you still stand...YOU STILL STAND. IMPRESSIVE. impressive indeed."
It was not the laugh of a drunk god or a proud warrior.
It was the sound of sothing unleashed.
He flexed his fingers.
Lightning did not leap to them—it erupted from within, bursting through skin and muscle as if his body were no longer a vessel, but a wound. Thunder rolled outward in concentric waves, flattening cloudbanks into vapor. The air ionized. Gravity stuttered.
Thor did not call the storm.
He beca it.
"Keep it," Thor said, eyes blazing. "I don't need it."
He vanished.
Atlas barely had ti to register the shift before Thor was on him—no weapon, no warning.
A fist like a falling mountain slamd into Atlas's ribs.
Bone shattered.
LAW scread as Yggdrasil essence flooded the damage, knitting flesh in milliseconds—too slow.
Another blow.
Atlas's jaw cracked, teeth scattering like broken ivory, blood spraying in a wide arc that imdiately ionized into crimson lightning.
A third.
The sky itself bent around the impact, folding inward as if trying to shield itself from witnessing what was happening.
Atlas flew, tumbling, his body a ragdoll against the firmant, pain stacking faster than thought. Each strike carried gravity, lightning, and sheer mass, Thor's fists manifesting thunderheads at the mont of impact.
Too strong, Atlas thought dimly.
Too fast.
Too awake.
He tried to speak—LAW choked in his throat, syllables dissolving before they could beco command.
Thor caught him again.
Both hands this ti.
He slamd Atlas downward.
They fell.
Past clouds. Past smoke. Past the battlefield below where angels and gods bled and fought like ants beneath giants.
Thor drove Atlas straight into the earth.
BOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!!
The ground detonated.
Stone, fire, and debris erupted skyward as Atlas cratered deep, his body buried under tons of shattered ruin. The world rang like a struck bell, shockwaves rippling outward until distant mountains cracked in sympathy.
For a long mont, nothing moved.
Then rubble shifted.
Atlas coughed, dragging himself free, every breath agony. His vision swam. His Demon God Heart pounded erratically, each beat sending molten strength through his veins, barely keeping him conscious.
Thor landed before him with a quake.
"You endure," Thor said, genuine curiosity creeping into his voice. "Most don't. Congratulations."
Atlas forced himself upright, spine screaming, LAW flickering like a dying star. His hands shook. His regeneration struggled to keep pace, Yggdrasil essence burning through reserves at a terrifying rate.
"I've died," Atlas rasped. "More tis than you've fought wars...Thor."
Thor stepped closer, lightning snapping around his shoulders.
"Then die better."
He grabbed Atlas again—
—but this ti, he didn't strike.
He turned Atlas's face toward the horizon.
Cities burned in the distance. The cities that burned from his lightning , and from the sheer level of their fight, Mortals fled like insects beneath collapsing towers. Angels fell from the sky trailing fire.
"This," Thor murmured, almost gentle, "is what you protect."
Atlas's chest tightened.
"This is LAW's rcy. Fragile. Small."
Thor leaned closer, voice dropping.
"Kneel," he whispered. "And I end it cleanly. Be a good dog to All father and finish your end of the bargain."
Sothing in Atlas broke.
Not his body.
Sothing quieter.
He laughed.
It ca out wet, broken, but real.
"I don't protect them because they're good," Atlas said, voice trembling with sothing far worse than rage. "I protect them because they're mine."
Thor hesitated.
A mistake.
LAW surged—not as command, but as judgent.
And the universe, already bruised and watching, leaned in closer.
[Sufficient Faith points accumulated]
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