Earth.
New York.
Inside a villa that looked resplendent and extravagant from the outside, a showcase of the wealthy and their indulgent tastes, the interior told a different story.
The place seemed abandoned for years. Priceless furniture lay ruined, walls that should have gleamed with fresh paint and polish were rotting and faded. Even the metal fixtures hanging on the walls looked as though they had weathered centuries, covered in rust and corrosion.
Thick, black, tar-like matter spread across the house like webs, threading into the floor to form a dense, vein-like network.
"Master."
A man with a deathly pale complexion knelt outside one of the rooms.
His name was William.
Once, he had smuggled a vial of viral samples out of Umbrella Biotech, literally hidden inside his own body. Now, he looked less like a man and more like a vampire.
His eyes glowed a bloodshot red.
And beneath his skin, if one looked closely, rivulets of black substance pulsed and writhed.
"I've brought you a new toy."
Rising carefully, William pushed the door open. He carried a sack that squirmed faintly, as though something alive struggled inside, and walked into the room with nervous steps.
It was a child's bedroom.
The kind that should have been warm, filled with color and whimsy.
But now, the floor and walls were plastered with that same black, viscous slime, as if the entire room had been transformed into a grotesque nest.
"Hee-hee-hee~"
In the center of the room sat a little girl, laughing in a strange, broken giggle.
Her face was delicate, pure. She looked harmless.
But William's fear never eased after he stepped in. He could never forget what had happened when he first returned to his rented flat.
The whispers.
They were always in his ears, urging him to go to an island. They never let him rest, never gave him peace.
His gut told him—he shouldn't go.
But after more than a week, when his body began to change, William realized he no longer had a choice.
When he finally set foot on the island from the whispers, he found her—the little girl. And in that moment, he understood where the lab's fungal growths had truly originated.
"Master, your toy."
Corrupted, infected, consumed by virus and mycelium, William had no choice but to kneel before this tiny demon.
Yes.
To him, the girl was nothing but a demon.
No communication.
No reasoning.
No trace of human emotion.
She gave only one kind of order, over and over.
"I want a toy!"
And her toys were always the same: living humans.
She would kill them. Devour them.
And if William failed to deliver, the punishment was agony beyond comprehension. Little wonder he saw her as the devil incarnate.
"I want more toys."
The girl pouted now, her expression oddly childlike as her dissatisfied eyes fixed on William.
The next instant.
The black substance beneath his skin churned violently, making his flesh ripple like something alive squirmed inside him.
"Ahhh!"
William collapsed, writhing, screaming in pain.
The torment came again and again, never-ending. He knew one victim was never enough for her. But how many homeless people could he find in the city? To target regular citizens would only invite the police down on him.
"I was wrong! Master! Spare me! Please spare me!" William sobbed, his screams echoing until, at last, the pain ebbed away.
Panting, supporting himself on trembling arms, he slowly pushed himself upright, glancing at the girl on the sofa.
Something was different.
To his surprise, she wasn't tearing into any living victim this time.
She wasn't laughing, wasn't showing that devil's parody of innocence.
Her expression was blank. Empty. Her eyes were unfocused, glassy, as though she were lost in some void.
"Master?"
William called out cautiously.
No response.
"Master? Master?"
After a long hesitation, he inched closer. He waved his hand before her eyes.
Still, nothing.
"She's... dead?"
Shock rippled through him—followed by a surge of wild joy.
If this devil child was truly gone, then maybe he could finally be free. Maybe his life could return to what it was before.
Trying to contain his rising excitement, William reached out, hand trembling, intending to test her breath...
But just as his hand lifted, before he could even touch her—
"What do you want?"
The little girl's voice rang out—cold, sharp, utterly alien.
William jolted violently, instinct forcing him flat to the floor. He trembled, terrified that his earlier actions had once again provoked her wrath.
"Master! Forgive me! I only wanted to check on you! I had no bad intentions—I swear! I was just worried about you! Yes, that's all it was!" His words tumbled out in panic, his voice frantic and uneven.
He begged and pleaded for a long time.
But the laughter never came. Nor did the usual wave of searing pain.
That absence alone made William's skin crawl.
As his scattered thoughts fell back into place, a chilling realization crept over him. Since when did this creature know how to ask questions?
This wasn't right.
It was nothing like her usual mannerisms. Nothing like the monster's twisted innocence.
Though reduced now to a wretched servant, William had once been a brilliant scientist. His mind was still sharp, still capable of connecting the dots. He had already pieced together the truth about the little girl long ago—he simply lacked the power to resist her.
"Master, you…"
He forced himself to look up, voice trembling.
And what he saw left him stunned.
Her eyes.
They weren't the same. Gone was the devilish gleam, the cruel parody of innocence. Instead, he saw depth—an abyss that pulled at his very soul.
"You… who are you!?"
Fear surged through him, tangled with confusion. The girl's face hadn't changed, but her gaze, her vacant expression… he knew, with certainty, this was not the same monster that had enslaved him.
But it was the same body.
How could that be?
His mind couldn't make sense of it. The whole situation felt more twisted, more incomprehensible than even the day he first stepped onto that cursed island.
"Who am I?"
The girl echoed his words softly, her confusion deepening.
That single response made William's heart pound even harder.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
He found himself instinctively inching backward, desperate to escape this room that now radiated nothing but dread. A thought crossed his mind: split personality. Madness. Something even worse.
"Rumble—"
A sudden peal of thunder shook the air outside.
William collapsed to the ground with a strangled cry, his nerves snapping.
Lightning flashed across the room.
And for an instant, he swore he saw another face flicker across the girl's.
"I…"
As the thunder faded, so too did the confusion on her face.
Her eyes—pitch black, fathomless—grew impossibly deep.
"I… am Death."
The childish voice that spoke those words struck William's ears like a divine decree.
It pressed down on him with suffocating weight, laced with an imperious authority, like a queen on her throne.
"Master! Please—I don't want to die! I don't want to!"
William's heart nearly stopped from sheer terror. He no longer dared to cower or scramble away. Instead, he dropped to his knees once more, shivering uncontrollably.
…
Belarus.
The city entombed in ice.
After watching the aircraft marked with the S.H.I.E.L.D. insignia carry away the refugees he had resurrected, Thor turned to the man at his side.
"Are you truly not coming back to Asgard with me? Father would surely welcome your visit. And I'd like to thank you properly with Asgardian mead."
Thor's face now shone with vigor. The grief and heaviness from before were gone, replaced by eager anticipation at the thought of returning home.
"There will be a chance, but not now." Herman had no intention of following Thor to Asgard to help clean up his family's mess.
Since Odin still chose to feign sleep, Asgard was most likely already in Loki's hands. Thor's homecoming was bound to be anything but pleasant.
"I'll return to Earth again soon. I've made promises to those children and friends. I need to help them build a new home."
Thor's eyes followed the departing S.H.I.E.L.D. aircraft. He still felt a lingering responsibility toward the refugees.
"I won't let down those who believe in me."
His voice was steady, resolute.
He had no idea that recent events had been staged. Of course, the part concerning the refugees was all too real—their suffering, their survival.
"I'm not the master of Earth. I don't decide whether you come or go. As long as you don't cause me trouble, even if you wanted to build a kingdom here, it wouldn't concern me."
Herman's voice carried weight.
But Thor heard nothing unusual in it.
"I can see you're not the type of god who acts out of kindness. Those people weren't your responsibility, yet you helped them. That means I owe you a great debt."
Thor looked at Herman deeply, remembering the suffocating power he had once felt radiating from him. A faint, self-mocking smile tugged at his lips.
"Of course, with your strength, you probably couldn't care less about my debt. But if you ever need anything, you may call on me."
He extended his right hand.
A gesture of courtesy he had learned on Earth.
"As for repaying the favor… perhaps you'd consider letting me beat you up again?" Herman teased as he clasped Thor's hand.
He still remembered vividly how striking Thor looked with a swollen face and blackened eyes.
"Hahaha! That must be Midgard humor." Thor forced a laugh, a bit hollow, swallowing nervously.
"Just a joke."
Herman found Thor's nervousness amusing. His gaze drifted to Thor's hammer, before he spoke in a more serious tone.
"If you truly want to repay me, then next time you come to Earth… bring me a copy of Asgard's rune research manual."
Herman's thirst for knowledge was endless, and Asgard's rune technology intrigued him deeply. It was a crystallization of civilization entirely unlike anything on Earth.
Wakanda's so-called technology?
In front of Asgard's rune science, it was child's play. Even among the most advanced civilizations in the cosmos, none would dare dismiss the might of Asgard's runes.
After all, even Thor's hammer itself stood as proof of their power.
All these artifacts were forged using Asgardian rune technology. Herman also wanted to craft his own weapons, which is why he sought to learn Asgardian knowledge. As for the treasures in Odin's Vault, there would naturally be other opportunities to trade with Odin and his son in the future.
"I remember my father's library has many books on the subject, though I'm not really interested in them. When I return, I'll have them transcribed and bring them to your world the next time I come to Earth."
Thor didn't ask Herman why he needed rune technology. He figured that since his father had entrusted Gungnir and the Destroyer Armor to this man, Herman must be an ally of Asgard. For allies, some knowledge was naturally not something Thor would hold back.
Having witnessed Herman's formidable strength firsthand, Thor wasn't worried about him misusing Asgardian technology for evil deeds. He knew that whatever Herman wanted to accomplish, his own terrifying power would allow him to do so effortlessly—there was no need for any external force.
Having seen Herman retrieve someone from the realm of the dead, Thor couldn't even begin to imagine the full extent of his power. He knew exactly whose domain that place belonged to.
As the Crown Prince of Asgard he had been studying the secrets of the cosmos since childhood.
"I like people who are straightforward like you."
Herman's smile was bright and dazzling.
He didn't truly need rune technology to enhance his combat abilities, but being able to master a technique that could forge divine artifacts was certainly an impressive skill to possess.
"As long as you don't lose your temper... I think you're a good person too. See you next time!" Thor felt a chill run down his spine just from looking at Herman's smile.
He instinctively took a few steps back, likely still haunted by the psychological scar left by Herman's grin. He couldn't shake the feeling that nothing good ever happened when Herman smiled.
"Is it really necessary?" Herman was completely speechless.
"Uh... conditioned reflex, conditioned reflex."
Thor let out an awkward chuckle. Wanting to change the subject, he lifted his head and shouted into the now-clear sky.
"Heimdall, can you hear me?"
The person Thor was calling out to was the guardian of Asgard, the one who watched over the Bifröst.
Like Thor, Heimdall was a native Asgardian god, possessing a lifespan of thousands of years and immense power. It was easy to understand—since the Bifröst was so important to Asgard, its guardian couldn't possibly be weak.
He was also Thor's childhood friend.
Sif, the queen Odin had chosen for Thor, was Heimdall's sister. Heimdall's eyes were extraordinary—he could see the flutter of a butterfly's wings from 220 million light-years away.
His hearing was just as sharp, able to hear sounds from anywhere in the Nine Realms.
"Heimdall! Take me back! Father has consented!" When Thor saw that there was no response from the sky, he emphasized again, "See that hunk next to me? He brought me Father's forgiveness!"
What the hell?
"Hunk?"
Before Herman could even roll his eyes, a vibrant, rainbow-colored beam of light suddenly descended from the previously quiet sky.
It was nothing like the blue-tinged beam from before.
It was extremely bright.
"This must be some kind of transdimensional technology?" Herman speculated, having already prepared to turn and use his raven teleportation to return to New York.
Unexpectedly, after the rainbow pillar descended, it didn't just envelop Thor—it wrapped around Herman as well, pulling him in.
This was no accident.
The one who had activated the Bifröst clearly wanted to pull Herman into Asgard too—a powerful tugging force gripped him, trying to pull both Herman and Thor into the heavens.
"Sorry, but I'm not interested in getting involved in Asgard's family affairs." Divine power surged within Herman, easily resisting the Bifröst's pull.
This was something neither Thor nor Loki could do, but for Herman, it was effortless. After all, the Bifröst was just a means of transport.
"It's time to go back and give S.H.I.E.L.D. a nudge. They need to wrap up my business soon." After breaking free from the Bifröst, Herman watched the multicolored pillar of light vanish.
The next moment, circles of ravens appeared at his feet. In the blink of an eye, he was transported back to the Stellar Tower in New York, from the other side of the ocean.
"Holy shit! What the hell are you guys doing!?"
Back in his office, Herman was greeted by a scene that left him completely stunned.
...
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