Asgard.
Dozens of minutes had passed since the devastating collapse.
Everyone buried beneath the rubble of the Royal Palace had been rescued.
Thankfully, the Asgardians' physiology, far sturdier than any mortal's, had spared them from death. Only a handful of maids suffered injuries, but none too serious.
But despite the lack of casualties, what remained was an indelible sense of shame.
Even Odin looked wretched, his once-pristine armor dulled by dust, his long silver hair disheveled, face smeared with soot and grit. His grip on Gungnir was tight, the shaft trembling slightly under his seething wrath.
Around him, guards stood in rigid formation, heads bowed, lips sealed. Not a single one dared to breathe too loudly.
"Search. I want a full investigation!" Odin's voice roared across the ruins like a thunderclap. "Turn over every stone! I want to know who dares destroy my palace!"
With a violent strike, Gungnir smashed against the scorched floor. A loud crack echoed across the ruins.
His chest heaved.
This wasn't just destruction, it was blasphemy.
Asgard's palace wasn't simply a home to the royal family, it was a legacy, a sacred monument infused with ancient power and protected by runes passed down from kings long past.
To have it collapse without a single enemy in sight?
Unthinkable.
Unforgivable.
'If I die and meet the kings of old in Valhalla…' Odin thought grimly, 'what will I tell them? That I let the palace of their bloodline collapse from within?'
His fury darkened to purple rage, veins throbbing against his temples.
The order was given. And now, the whole of Asgard was mobilized.
Hundreds of guards and scholars combed through the wreckage, scanning for magical interference, sabotage, dark energy signatures, anything to explain the humiliation.
…
Meanwhile… Back on Earth
Luke, the unintentional saboteur, lounged comfortably in his gaming chair, propped back with one leg resting over the other.
While Asgard panicked, he was smiling lazily, counting his gains like a tycoon after the stock market bell.
'Let's see… what did I earn from this little alien invasion?'
He held up a hand and began ticking off with his fingers.
'One: Sharon got the Thunder Physique and Mjölnir. She's practically the Goddess of Thunder now.'
'Two: my lucky cat reached Level 4. The shrine's real MVP.'
'Three: my computer mutated into a fifth-order mutated object. It could even summon Gul'dan from a game.'
'Four: the system got stronger. Negative mutations are getting… fun.'
He grinned slightly.
Even Odin had been caught in a Level 1 trap, his palace flattened by a mild ripple of cosmic mischief.
Sure, it hadn't actually hurt the old man, but it had definitely ruined his day.
Luke flicked his fingers, muttering, "Just wait until it hits Level 5…"
His thoughts were already racing. What would it mean when the system could mutate space itself?
[SYSTEM PANEL OPENED]
[Host: Luke Yale
System Level: 4
Upgrade Cost: 30 Plot Points
Current Points: 13
Next Upgrade Perks: Mutations affect space as well as objects/lifeforms.
Negative mutations triggered by evil thoughts, not just spoken actions.
Mutation Probability:
1st Order: 40%
2nd Order: 30%
3rd Order: 20%
4th Order: 10%
5th Order: 1% (Extreme conditions only)
6th Order: 0% (Locked)]
Luke tapped his chin thoughtfully.
'Seventeen points to go… I need a new mess to trigger.'
…
Just as he was calculating potential plot-farming ideas, his phone buzzed.
He picked it up lazily.
"Yo."
Nick Fury's voice came from the other end, firm, but respectful.
"Consultant Yale. We've located the target you asked about."
Luke blinked. The formal tone threw him off.
"Cut the consultant crap. Just call me Luke. I'm younger than you, and we're not in the military."
Fury gave a low chuckle. "Fair enough, Luke."
"So? Where's Killian?"
"We tracked him via satellite. He's been showing up regularly at a private dock. I just sent the coordinates to your phone."
Luke glanced down at the message popping onto his screen. "Efficient, as always."
"Want us to bring him in for you?" Fury offered quickly. "We can have a team on him in under an hour."
Luke paused, then shook his head.
"Nah. I'll go myself."
"Understood."
Luke's gaze darkened with intent.
He wasn't interested in Killian the man.
He wanted Extremis, the experimental serum that could rebuild limbs and regenerate from near-death. Dangerous? Yes. Explosive? Definitely. But also incredibly useful.
'Regeneration. That's what I need.'
He tapped his arm thoughtfully.
'I've got all these powerful toys, minions, and mutants to do the dirty work for me… but if I trip over a curb wrong, I'm done for.'
Extremis would fix that. And unlike armor or weapons, regeneration was always on, not to mention it also gave a good strength boost and a form of pyrokinesis.
'It's not a question of if I get it. Only how.'
As he mulled over battle strategies for befriending or scamming a genius scientist, Fury's voice returned, this time, hesitant.
"Luke…"
"Hmm?"
"There's… something else."
"Spit it out. You're stalling."
Luke sat forward, now intrigued.
"A friend of mine… he's recently been promoted to Secretary of the World Security Council. He's heard about you and expressed interest in meeting."
Luke raised an eyebrow.
"You mean the people who sat in a fancy room doing nothing during the alien invasion? The same ones who sent a nuke intent on destroying New York?"
"Not all of them," Fury replied. "This one is different. He's my old boss. Got promoted after the dust settled. Thought maybe a face-to-face wouldn't hurt."
Luke narrowed his eyes.
"Your friend… is his name Alexander Pierce?"
…