Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Destroyer

In Asgard, the realm of the gods, Thor’s four friends—Sif, Hogun, Fandral, and Volstagg—arrived at the palace, hoping to beseech Odin, All-Father, for mercy on Thor’s behalf.

Yet, upon entering the great hall, they looked up to find not Odin upon the throne, but Loki, Thor’s younger brother.

“Where is the All-Father?” Hogun inquired.

“Our father still slumbers, and our mother fears he may not awaken,” Loki replied.

“We wish to see the Queen!” Sif insisted, wishing to speak with Frigga, the All-Mother, about Thor’s fate.

“The Queen remains at the All-Father’s side. If you have urgent matters, you may report them to me,” Loki refused.

He rose from the throne, gazing down at them with haughty authority. “I am your king!”

For Thor’s sake, the four had no choice but to kneel on one knee and beseech Loki. “My lord, we beg for Thor’s pardon.”

Loki sneered. “That was the All-Father’s decree! We are at war with Jotunheim. Our people need peace. In this time of crisis, we must stand united for the sake of security!”

Sif bristled with anger, instantly seeing through Loki’s words—he simply refused to free Thor, fearful he would challenge him for the throne. She sprang up, intent on teaching Loki a lesson, but Volstagg pulled her back. “Enough, let’s go.”

Fighting down their rage, the four cast Loki a long, searching look, then turned on their heels and left the hall.

“We can’t let it end like this. We must take action,” Sif said to her companions.

“We should find Thor and bring him home!” Hogun proposed.

“That’s treason—and suicide,” Volstagg cautioned.

“If it were one of us, Thor would do the same,” Sif said earnestly.

“But Heimdall still guards the Bifrost!” Fandral reminded them.

“We’ll talk to him,” Sif declared. The others exchanged glances, then nodded in agreement.

Heimdall, guardian of the realm and sentinel of the Bifrost, faced the four and asked, “You intend to defy King Loki’s orders? You would break your warrior’s oath and commit treason to rescue Thor?”

“Yes,” Sif replied with unwavering conviction.

“Very well!” Heimdall abruptly turned and strode away. “I shall open the Bifrost!”

The four weren’t sure what Heimdall meant—he’d left mid-sentence. Suddenly, the sword that controlled the Bifrost glowed with radiant white light.

From the palace’s high platform, Loki watched the distant activation of the Bifrost. He knew at once the four had gone to Midgard for Thor. Heimdall’s loyalty to Thor was clear—he openly defied Loki.

You’ve forced my hand! Loki strode purposefully down to the palace vault, where lay a weapon of unparalleled power: Odin’s battle armor, the Destroyer. Forged from Uru, indestructible, it could unleash devastating energy blasts.

…

Midgard—Earth.

“There was a powerful energy surge fifteen miles northwest, but it vanished just as quickly,” an agent reported to Coulson.

“Let’s go check it out,” Coulson said, preparing to drive over.

“I’m coming with you,” Arthur replied, climbing into Coulson’s car.

In the small town, four oddly dressed figures appeared—three men and one woman, all clad in armor and carrying ancient weapons, as if they’d stepped out of a film set. The townsfolk eyed them with curiosity. They were, of course, Sif and her companions.

They found Thor having lunch. Overjoyed, Thor rushed to embrace his friends, and introduced them to Jane and Dr. Daisy—his childhood companions.

Jane and Dr. Daisy were stunned into silence by their outlandish attire.

…

Coulson and the S.H.I.E.L.D. team arrived at the site of the energy anomaly. The area was calm, yet on the ground was a strange, enormous symbol, still faintly scorched and smelling as if freshly branded.

“Get an archaeologist to take a look,” Coulson ordered.

Arthur, meanwhile, guzzled his bottled water. Suddenly, he looked up at the sky. “It’s here.”

At that moment, clouds gathered overhead, swirling into a massive vortex that descended lower and lower, winds howling. Suddenly, the vortex plunged earthward with a crash, sending out a shockwave.

As the dust and wind cleared, the onlookers saw a towering, five-meter-tall figure of gleaming silver metal—like a giant automaton, reminiscent of Tony Stark’s armor. It was the Destroyer.

The Destroyer strode toward them. Coulson raised a megaphone to address the machine, but Arthur stopped him. “Danger! Get away, as far as you can.”

Heeding Arthur’s warning, Coulson turned and ran, shouting to the others, “Evacuate now!”

Arthur gazed at the Destroyer with undisguised longing. The entire construct was made of Uru—a metal unique to Asgard, indestructible and capable of holding enchantments. For Odin to craft such a gigantic suit of armor was the height of extravagance.

Arthur gripped his trident and stood before the Destroyer, looking up. “Loki! Earth is not your playground, not a place for you to trample at will!”

The Destroyer regarded Arthur, its faceplate slowly opening. Suddenly, fire flared within, and a colossal beam of red energy shot toward Arthur.

Arthur raised his trident, unleashing a blue beam to meet the red. The opposing forces—one hot, one cold—collided with a thunderous explosion.

Smoke billowed, shrouding the battlefield. Arthur frowned at the Destroyer—this land was too dry; the energy he’d summoned was only half its usual strength.

Arthur lifted his trident to the sky. Instantly, dark clouds amassed, winds howled, and lightning split the heavens—then rain began to pour.

From a distance, the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents watched Arthur, trident raised, seeming every inch the incarnation of a god. He could summon storms—thunder rumbled, rain fell in sheets, and lightning danced around him. In their eyes, Arthur’s form seemed to grow larger, more imposing.

Arthur felt the rain on his skin with a hint of frustration. At sea, he could conjure a tempest with ease. Here, in this arid wasteland, all he managed was a meager downpour.

With a gesture of his left hand, the raindrops suspended in midair, as if time itself had stopped—a scene both eerie and awe-inspiring.

Red light glowed again in the Destroyer’s hollow head as it prepared to fire a second blast. In that instant, Arthur thrust his left hand forward, transforming countless raindrops into crystal bullets that hurtled toward the Destroyer.

A rapid series of crisp metallic impacts rang out—the raindrops, charged with power, battered the Destroyer, driving it back under the relentless assault.

Suddenly, the Destroyer’s head flashed red, unleashing another searing bolt of energy. Arthur could only raise his trident to block it—the massive force sent him flying backward, breaking the rain attack.

Arthur climbed to his feet, eyes fixed on the Destroyer. He soared forward, trident in hand, striking the Destroyer’s chest with tremendous force, sending the metal giant careening back.

He gave chase, landing blow after blow in midair. Each strike of trident on armor rang out harshly, a cacophony of metal on metal. With a final, thunderous crash, Arthur hurled the Destroyer against a rocky mountainside.

In those few moments, Arthur had struck the Destroyer dozens of times—yet its body bore not a scratch, untouched, as if impervious to harm. The Destroyer’s armor was absurdly resilient.