The thunderous cry of Mjolnir echoed as Martin gripped the mighty hammer.
"What are you doing?! Stop!!"
No one knew Mjolnir better than Thor. His eyes flared red with rage as he roared and lunged toward Martin.
SMACK!
Before he could get close, Megatron raised a single arm and backhanded Thor, sending the God of Thunder hurtling a dozen meters away like a ragdoll.
Then, before the stunned eyes of all present, Martin crushed Mjolnir in his bare hand, shattering the sacred relic of Asgard with a thunderous crack.
Explosive lightning burst from the shattered fragments, divine energy surging outward like a detonation, tearing across the battlefield and sweeping away everything in its path.
And yet, Martin didn't budge. He stood completely still amid the storm, as though the devastation around him were no more than a summer breeze.
The sheer dominance of that moment stunned everyone into silence. Even across the cosmic bridge, where Odin, seated on his throne in Asgard, was watching through a projection of divine force, his lone eye momentarily froze. A flicker of wrath rose from its depths.
A mortal... had just shattered Mjolnir before his very gaze.
A direct insult to Asgard. A challenge to his divine authority.
"Mortal… your courage deserves recognition. But you have also angered me. It has been eons since anyone dared defy my dignity to my face."
Slowly, the All-Father Odin rose from his throne. Terrifying waves of divine power rippled outward from him. The continent of Asgard itself began to tremble, its skies flashing with divine pressure.
Throughout the realm, Asgardians gasped in confusion and awe as they had not seen their king this enraged in an age.
"Ancient One... this mortal has willingly provoked me, a Supreme God, a Skyfather! This matter is between him and me alone. There must be an end to it!"
Odin's lined face was like stone, eyes burning with intent to kill. The authority that had crushed entire realms across the Nine Realms surged forth, unchecked.
But the Ancient One offered no response.
Odin gave a low, knowing grunt. Silence was permission enough.
With a grim satisfaction, he grasped Gungnir, the Spear of Heaven, Asgard's most powerful weapon, and tore through the void toward Earth.
"It seems," he muttered coldly, "that after a thousand years, too many mongrels have forgotten what it means to fear a god."
A sneer formed on Odin's lips.
Back then, the Celestials, beings beyond comprehension, had suddenly descended upon Earth to inspect the progress of their genetic experiment: humanity.
What they found enraged them.
Mankind was not evolving naturally.
Their development had been interfered with, twisted, guided, and chained beneath the shadows of gods.
That was when the Celestials unleashed their fury.
In desperation, the Three Supreme Pantheons gathered their might. Joined by the Mayan gods, Japanese kami, and dozens more minor pantheons, they formed a divine coalition of unprecedented scale: tens of Skyfathers, hundreds of gods.
They believed their combined might could stand against any threat.
Even against the Fourth Host of the Celestials.
They were wrong.
Utterly wrong.
The gods, for all their posturing, were slaughtered. Defeated again and again. Their defenses crumbled, their legacies shattered.
And that was just from one team of Celestials. There were many more like them.
The leader of that Celestial team, a being of unimaginable might, single-handedly annihilated entire pantheons and left a chilling message that echoed through divine realms:
"You are not gods. Merely lifeforms wielding borrowed power—third-generation echoes spawned beneath the World Tree. Send the Four Elder Gods. Only second-generation beings like them can speak to us as equals. The rest of you are insects."
Odin would never forget that condescending, dismissive voice.
After that humiliation, the gods were forced to withdraw from Earth, vowing to never again interfere with human development.
But Odin had not forgotten. And that vow never meant gods were weak.
Nor did it give mortals the right to mock the strongest Skyfather alive.
Anger surged in Odin's one eye. That ancient, bitter shame, buried for centuries, now burned anew.
He remembered his own moment of glory during that dark hour. When all hope crumbled, it was he who stood tall, donning Asgard's most terrifying weapon: the Destroyer Armor, wielding Gungnir, and unleashing the full might of Odinforce.
He alone had held the line, buying precious time. It cost him half his life, but it preserved the World Tree. It bought peace, for a millennium.
And yet now, mortals had already forgotten. Forgotten how once they had been cattle, chained beneath divine will.
Now they dared raise hands against the gods.
As Odin stepped upon the Bifrost, the Rainbow Bridge flared with celestial energy, and in a blink, he descended into Earth's upper orbit.
He hovered in the void, clad in regal battle-robes, his single eye glowing with icy wrath.
A passing satellite caught his arrival.
The footage streamed instantly to Earth's networks.
Every screen flickered, every nation watched in awe.
And across the planet, the world fell silent.
A god had arrived.
He looked ancient, like a character stepped from legend, but there was no mistaking his power. Time itself seemed to ripple in his presence.
Even the most hardened leaders broke into cold sweat. Though thousands of kilometers away, they felt the crushing pressure of divinity, of a being who stood above all mortal comprehension.
In the command deck of the Helicarrier, Director Fury watched the live feed, face pale and expressionless.
It was minutes before he finally spoke, voice dry and hoarse:
"So... those old myths were real. There really is a Thor... and there really is an Odin."
The All-Father has come to Earth.
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