Chapter 155: god of Mischieve that sits on a Velvet throne
In the dimly lit, sterile room, the hunters were gathered, anxiously watching the wires and screens connecting Loki to the machines that monitored Axel and Troy. The alien technology hummed, projecting intricate readings of each figure's vitals. Trisha stood with her hand over her heart, lips pressed together, clinging to a fragile hope. She despised feeling helpless, yet now, with Axel's and Troy's consciousnesses adrift in unknown realms, she had no choice.
"Bring them back, Loki... Please," she whispered under her breath, trying to hold onto optimism.
Beside her, Thor stood, arms crossed, his usual calm yet unyielding demeanor casting a quiet confidence. His lack of concern gnawed at Trisha. She finally broke the silence, voicing her frustration.
"Are you not worried at all, Thor? What if they don't make it back?"
