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"A wise decision," Rosh said, offering Loki a satisfied, approving nod.
To anyone else in the cosmos, surrendering five hundred years of divine magic and two-thirds of their fate-ordained Luck Points would sound like an impossible, highway-robbery price.
But Rosh knew that wasn't how Loki saw it.
For the Prince of Asgard, this deal was worth every single drop of the cost. After all, Loki wasn't the type to make reckless, emotional decisions. He was cautious, calculating, and constantly weighing risks against rewards. If he believed for a second that the price outweighed the payoff, he would have walked away without a moment's hesitation.
The fact that he had agreed spoke for itself.
"Come with me," Rosh said, gesturing toward the reception lounge.
The two returned to their plush velvet seats across from each other. Once they were settled, Rosh skipped the idle small talk completely. There was no reason to stall any longer; it was time to make it official.
Silently, Rosh called upon the System in his mind. 'Execute the transaction.'
In an instant, five hundred years of Loki's accumulated divine magic were cleanly extracted from his soul. At the exact same time, two-thirds of Loki's cosmic Luck Points were transferred directly into Rosh's reserves.
The entire process happened so effortlessly that it left zero visible trace in the air.
No glowing green magic circles.
No ancient Asgardian chants.
No mystical, dramatic rituals.
Nothing at all.
Yet the change inside Loki was immediate and absolute.
Loki's dark eyes widened as he could feel it in his very soul, the deep, heavy reservoir of divine magic humming in his chest had instantly plummeted, leaving a cold, noticeable void in his core.
"...My divine power..." Loki breathed out, staring at Rosh in utter, unadulterated disbelief. His voice carried a rare trace of genuine shock.
"It really decreased by five hundred years..." Loki's mind raced as he locked eyes with Rosh. "How did you do that? From beginning to end, you didn't cast a single spell. You didn't even touch me. So how...?"
The sheer impossibility of it sent a cold, primal shiver down the God of Mischief's spine.
'If this merchant could strip five centuries of divine power so effortlessly, without a gesture or a word... then what was stopping him from taking everything else? Could he completely wipe a god of all their divine authority if he simply felt like it?'
The terrifying possibility hung in the air.
'This merchant... he's far more dangerous than I originally thought.' Without even realizing it, Loki's internal threat assessment for the man sitting across from him skyrocketed to an all-time high.
Rosh merely spread his hands, offering a relaxed, unbothered smile.
"I have my own methods," Rosh said simply.
He offered no further explanation. No showy demonstration. Just another mysterious, unreadable smile that revealed absolutely nothing.
Loki understood immediately. Some cosmic secrets simply weren't meant to be shared, especially by someone who controlled forces far beyond standard magic.
At that exact moment, Elizabeth entered the lounge carrying a polished silver tray. Resting neatly in the center was the complete, untouched Rumble-Rumble Fruit.
"Your Devil Fruit, sir," she said, presenting it respectfully to Loki.
The second Loki's eyes landed on it, they shone with a fierce, burning excitement. To him, this wasn't merely a strange, swirling piece of fruit. It was the master key he had been searching for his entire life, the key to breaking out from under Thor's shadow forever.
Without trying to hide his anticipation for even a second, Loki reached out and grabbed the fruit.
Then... he took a massive bite right in front of Rosh. Surprisingly, this time, he barely winced.
After experiencing the fruit's god-tier power during the sample test, its infamous, foul taste no longer mattered at all. Compared to obtaining the absolute authority to become living, unstoppable lightning... a horrible flavor was a hilariously small price to pay.
The exact millisecond the rest of the fruit reached his stomach, that insane, intoxicating sensation exploded once again.
A colossal surge of cosmic power flooded Loki's entire system; it raced through every single vein, every muscle, and every bone. It felt as if his entire body were being rewritten cell by cell, dissolving into living, crackling lightning. The sheer thrill of it sent a shiver straight up his spine, making a wide, triumphant smirk spread across his face.
At that moment, every painful sacrifice he had just made, the five centuries of lost magic, the sacrificed luck, felt completely, totally worth it.
Loki slowly stood up, smoothing down the front of his robes.
"Manager," Loki said, giving Rosh a crisp, graceful nod of genuine respect. "Our business here is officially concluded."
He adjusted his collar, a dangerous glint dancing in his eyes. "My dear brother is still waiting for me back on Earth... and I really shouldn't keep the God of Thunder waiting any longer."
With that, the Prince of Asgard turned and walked out of the Home of the Devil Fruit with absolute swagger. Judging by the satisfied, predatory smile on his face, he had gotten every single thing he came for, and then some.
Rosh watched him vanish through the doorway, an equally pleased expression on his own face. A deal where both sides walked away feeling like they hit the lottery? That was the mark of a truly great transaction.
'So... this is what Asgardian divine power feels like.' Rosh quietly turned his attention inward, sensing the brand-new, foreign energy currently flowing through his own body.
Unlike standard physical stamina or raw muscle force, this power had a completely unique flavor to it. It was shockingly dense, hyper-pure, and ridiculously potent.
After analyzing the flow for a few moments, Rosh couldn't help but mentally compare it to the spiritual energy usually described in classic Eastern cultivation novels. The two systems weren't an exact match, of course. Divine power didn't settle neatly inside a central dantian, nor did it circulate through traditional meridian pathways; its internal flow was far more fluid and elemental.
Even so, at their absolute core, both energy systems shared the exact same foundation: high-grade, reality-bending cosmic essence.
Rosh slowly clenched his right fist.
*Crack!*
A small grin broke out across his face.
"My physical body..." Rosh murmured softly, inspecting his arm. "It just got even tougher."
Thanks to endless System enhancements and the cumulative stacking of multiple Devil Fruit traits, Rosh's baseline physical strength was already at an absurd, super-human level. Yet, after absorbing five hundred years of concentrated Asgardian divine magic into his system, his body had just undergone another massive, noticeable leap forward.
Every movement felt lighter, faster, and more effortless. Every muscle fiber seemed packed with even greater explosive force.
It wasn't a total, ground-shattering transformation that rewrote his entire genetic code, but the upgrade was deeply significant. More importantly, it massively raised his internal ceiling.
The stronger his physical vessel became, the more raw power he could squeeze out of his Devil Fruits without putting strain on his body. His high-tier combat techniques would hit infinitely harder, and the total destructive force of his elemental attacks would keep climbing through the roof.
Rosh gave a satisfied nod to himself.
"Yep! My overall combat stats just took another huge jump."
There wasn't a shadow of a doubt in his mind; this had been an insanely profitable deal.
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New Mexico, S.H.I.E.L.D. Temporary Research Facility
Inside the heavily guarded, plastic-walled research tent, space suddenly twisted.
A heavy, familiar wooden door materialized out of thin air, clicking open as Loki stepped smoothly back into reality as if he had never left.
He arrived right in the center of the room, standing directly in front of Thor.
By now, Thor had just finished another insanely frustrating, roundabout conversation with Agent Coulson. His mood was actually a lot better than before, not because Coulson's dry questioning had cheered him up, but because he knew his younger brother was finally here on Earth.
Just knowing Loki was in his corner gave the fallen god a massive wave of renewed hope. The second Thor saw the shimmering green door close behind Loki, his eyes lit up like Christmas lights.
"Loki!" Thor's booming, golden retriever energy voice echoed off the plastic walls of the tent. "You finally came!"
Massive relief washed over the blonde prince's face as he hurried forward, completely unable to contain his excitement.
"Tell me..." Thor pressed eagerly, gripping Loki's shoulders. "Is Jotunheim safe? And Father..."
Thor's boisterous expression suddenly softened into something deeply anxious and serious. "Please tell me Father is alright... tell him I'll explain everything! I'll make him understand why I went to Jotunheim!"
"Father is dead."
Loki delivered the bomb without a single second of hesitation. His voice was dead calm, completely flat and void of even a shred of emotion.
Yet those three simple words struck Thor harder than any physical blow from Mjolnir ever could.
*BOOM!*
It felt as though a blinding bolt of thunder had detonated right inside Thor's chest. He froze completely, and his eyes widened in sheer horror as the terrifying weight of those words slowly sank into his brain.
"W... what?" For a long, suffocating moment, Thor simply stood there, his mind going completely blank.
Loki lowered his eyes, masking his face with a perfectly rehearsed, heartbreaking expression of grief.
"Your foolish banishment... the looming threat of another war with Jotunheim..." Loki whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "It all became too much for him. His heart couldn't bear the heavy burden."
Loki let out a quiet, solemn sigh before leaning in closer.
"I tried to reason with Father, Thor... I truly did. But he refused to listen to me." Loki paused, letting the silence stretch before delivering the final, cruel twist of the knife.
"And leaving Mjolnir right here on Earth... right where you could see it, knowing full well you were no longer worthy enough to lift it..." Loki's voice softened to a gentle, poisonous purr. "That was perhaps the single cruelest punishment of all."
Every single sentence dug straight into Thor's chest, twisting the knife deep into his soul.
The mighty Prince of Asgard, the invincible warrior who had slain frost giants and led armies, suddenly looked like a lost, helpless child. His broad shoulders slumped. His giant fists trembled violently. His entire universe had just collapsed into ash right beneath his boots.
"I..." Thor's voice came out weak, hollow, and shaking. "I'll lift the hammer again. I know I will. Someday... I'll become worthy again!"
The words didn't sound like the proud declaration of a god. They sounded like a broken, desperate man trying to convince himself that his life wasn't completely ruined.
Loki quietly shook his head, a faint, dangerous smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "That no longer matters, brother."
Loki slowly raised his right hand, turning his palm upward. He didn't draw on Asgardian magic. He didn't recite an ancient spell. He simply willed the newly awakened power of the Rumble-Rumble Fruit to respond to his command.
*Crackle!*
*Snap!*
A blinding flash of brilliant, blue-white lightning erupted right out of his bare palm!
Violent, hyper-dense arcs of electricity danced wildly across his slender fingers like living, angry serpents, filling the plastic tent with a deafening, metallic hum of pure thunder. The air in the room vibrated with overwhelming, raw force.
Thor's eyes instantly snapped to the blinding light dancing on Loki's palm, and his breath hitched in his throat.
"...Thunder?" Thor stammered out, his voice quivering with shock. "That's... that's divine lightning..."
Thor's jaw slowly dropped as he stared at his younger brother's glowing hand, as if everything he had ever known or believed about reality had just been brutally turned upside down.
"Loki..." Thor gasped out, pure, unadulterated disbelief flooding his chest. "How... how are you doing that?!"
Only hours ago, Thor himself had failed to even budge Mjolnir an inch. His sacred connection to the storm had been completely severed by Odin. He couldn't summon so much as a tiny static spark on his own.
Yet now... standing right in front of him... his 'weak, trickster' younger brother was casually bending high-density, blinding divine lightning with his bare hands!
No hammer.
No divine weapon.
No ancient artifacts.
Just pure, effortless biological command over the element itself.
Thor felt completely, thoroughly crushed.
'Has Father truly abandoned me completely? Is that why he stripped the thunder from my blood... and handed it over to Loki instead?'
The thought stabbed straight into Thor's heart like a poisoned blade. He couldn't understand it. He couldn't accept it. Yet the violent blue lightning roaring and snapping in Loki's palm was undeniable proof standing right in front of his face.
Watching the utter disbelief, total confusion, and heartbreaking despair written all over Thor's face... Loki felt a wave of absolute, intoxicating ecstasy wash over his soul. For fifteen centuries, he had lived like a ghost in Thor's giant, obnoxious shadow.
Now? The roles had completely, permanently reversed.
Standing here right now, watching the legendary God of Thunder look up at him in helpless awe and utter defeat... this single moment was worth every single year of divine magic he had surrendered to Rosh.
Every single drop of it.
"The heavy burden of ruling Asgard now rests entirely on my shoulders." Loki continued his meticulously crafted performance, speaking with the sorrowful, quiet dignity of a reluctant monarch forced to accept a terrifying responsibility.
Under any normal circumstances, Thor would have objected immediately.
For fifteen centuries, Thor had taken it for granted that the crown belonged to him. As Odin's firstborn, the golden prince of the realm, he had never doubted for a single second that he was destined to wear the helmet of the All-Father. While he loved Loki dearly, he had always viewed his younger brother as a second-in-line advisor, forever standing a step behind him.
But now? Everything had changed.
The news of Odin's supposed death had shattered Thor's ego into a million unfixable pieces.
The throne didn't matter. The glory didn't matter. None of it mattered anymore.
His father was dead because of his arrogance. Mjolnir lay outside in the mud, utterly refusing to recognize him as worthy. His lightning was gone, his strength was broken, and his spirit was completely obliterated.
He simply didn't have the heart left to argue.
After a long, suffocating silence, Thor slowly raised his head.
"...Can I come home?"
The question was small, fragile, almost pleading.
It carried none of the booming confidence, royal pride, or boisterous swagger that had once defined the God of Thunder.
Loki answered without a millisecond of hesitation.
"I'm afraid not."
Those three calm words brutally crushed the tiny, desperate ember of hope Thor had been clinging to.
"The strict terms of our peace agreement with Jotunheim demand your permanent, absolute exile."
Thor's broad shoulders trembled wildly. "There... there has to be another way, Loki! We can fix this! We can talk to them—we can reason with—"
Loki slowly shook his head, staring down with a heavy, solemn sigh, "Mother has forbidden your return as well."
*BAM!*
That single lie was the ultimate killing stroke.
Whatever fragile piece of hope Thor had been desperately holding onto dissolved into ash. His head slowly dropped back toward his chest. His blue eyes went completely dead and hollow, as if the divine spark inside him had been snuffed out forever.
Loki watched in total silence before taking a slow, deliberate step back toward the exit.
"I came only to say goodbye, brother."
A delicate trace of deep sorrow flickered across Loki's face. "I'm... truly sorry."
Thor closed his eyes tight, a heavy lump forming in his throat.
After all the senseless bloodshed... after driving his father into an early grave and breaking his mother's heart... Thor blamed no one but the foolish monster looking back at him in the mirror.
"No..." Thor rasped out, his voice barely above a broken whisper. "I'm the one who should apologize... I'm so sorry, Loki..."
The words tore straight out of his shattered soul. For the first time in his entire life, the proudest prince in the Nine Realms truly believed he had failed everyone he had ever loved.
Loki gave one final, mournful nod.
"Farewell... brother."
Without another word, Loki turned on his heel and walked away, his dark cloak swirling around him as his quiet footsteps faded into the distance.
Thor remained frozen where he sat, a fallen, broken prince alone in the dim, plastic holding tent, staring blankly at the cold floor. He was completely, totally unaware of what happened the precise second Loki turned his back.
The tragic, heartbreaking grief instantly vanished from Loki's face like frost under a hot sun. The corners of his lips twisted, curling upward into a sharp, victorious, and downright wicked smirk.
Asgard's brand-new, undisputed God of Thunder stepped smoothly out into the desert night, and the entire cosmos was falling into place exactly according to his grand plan.
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Next Chapter: Thor's Breaking Point
Next Next Chapter: Asgard's Ultimate Weapon
Next Next Next Chapter: Tremor-Tremor Fruit VS. Asgard's Ultimate Weapon
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