The scene before me feels wrong. The mortal who stood against the Destroyer - who shielded me despite my unworthiness - lies motionless in a smoking crater. His sacrifice stirs something in me, something painful.
"You should not have interfered," Loki's spectral form appears beside me, his voice dripping with mock concern. "Mortals are so... fragile."
I grip Mjolnir tighter, feeling its power course through me, yet something holds me back. The connection between warrior and weapon feels incomplete, tainted by doubt.
Then I hear it - a sound that cuts through the chaos of battle. A mechanical voice, barely audible even to my enhanced senses:
"Emergency protocols activated. Anodite transformation sequence initiating."
The crater erupts with crimson light, and I feel... by the Norns, I feel magic. Not the controlled sorcery of Asgard, nor Loki's clever illusions, but something primal. Ancient. Pure.
The power radiating from the crater makes my skin prickle. It reminds me of standing before Father's throne during the Odinsleep, that same overwhelming sense of raw magical potential.
"Impossible," Loki's projection whispers, and for the first time, I hear genuine surprise in my brother's voice.
From the devastation rises a being of pure magical energy. Dark red with hair of brilliant white light, his form pulses with power that makes Mjolnir hum in response.
The mortal hovers gently, examining his transformed state with childlike wonder.
"This is..." his voice carries soft amazement, "extraordinary. I can see it all - every thread of magic woven into reality."
He raises a hand, studying the crimson energy flowing through his form. The Destroyer fires, but the boy merely tilts his head, curious. The blast dissipates into a shower of sparkling motes before it reaches him.
"Fascinating," he murmurs, floating closer to the ancient weapon. "Your magic... it's beautiful in its way. Ancient Asgardian craftsmanship, each enchantment layered with purpose."
His movements are almost reverent as he reaches out, tendrils of crimson energy gently probing the Destroyer's armor. "See how the spells interlock? Like a symphony written in magic..."
The armored mortal - Stark - hovers nearby, his mechanical voice cautious: "Kid? You still with us?"
The boy turns, his luminous face wearing an expression of serene joy. "I've never felt anything like this, Mr. Stark. It's like... like seeing color for the first time after a lifetime of grey."
He returns his attention to the Destroyer, carefully peeling away layers of enchanted metal. "Each piece tells a story. The magic sings of its creation, of the hands that forged it..."
But as he delves deeper into the ancient weapon's construction, something shifts. The gentle exploration becomes more forceful, his movements losing their earlier grace.
"Such power in these spells," his voice takes on a different tone, wonder giving way to something darker. "But compared to what flows through me now... it's like comparing a candle to a star."
The magical energy rolling off him intensifies. I've felt the Odinforce before, witnessed its raw potential, but this... this is different. Unrestrained. Wild.
"Why settle for studying the magic," he muses, his gentle deconstruction becoming more aggressive, "when I could reshape it entirely?"
The wind begins to pick up, carrying traces of crimson energy that make my centuries of magical training scream warnings. Each piece of the Destroyer he tears away now comes with less care, less reverence.
"Brother," Loki's projection speaks again, and I hear genuine concern. "That level of pure magical energy... no mortal was meant to contain it."
The boy's laughter starts soft but grows increasingly manic as he continues his work. The very air crackles with potential as he channels more power, no longer content with mere examination.
"Such wonderful power!" His earlier wonder transforms into something more dangerous. "Why simply study reality when I could rewrite it?
The sky darkens above us, crimson energy swirling in patterns that remind me of the Bifrost's power. But where the Bifrost is controlled, channeled, this is raw chaos waiting to be unleashed.
"Come on, kid," Stark tries again, "remember who you are."
But the boy seems beyond hearing now, lost in the intoxicating rush of pure power.
His gentle deconstruction of the Destroyer has become violent destruction, each blast carrying enough magical force to make my teeth ache.
I've seen warriors lost to battle fury before, but this is different. This is power in its purest form corrupting a mortal soul, and if someone doesn't reach him soon...
The question remains: can I find my own worthiness in time to save him from himself? And more crucially - can anyone stop power that rivals the Odinforce itself?
The magical energy continues to build as he floats higher, his crimson form casting an eerie glow across the desert landscape.
The remains of the Destroyer lie scattered below, twisted and torn apart with increasing violence.
"Kid," Stark tries again, maintaining his distance. "Whatever this is, whatever you're feeling - we can help."
He turns toward him, his white-light hair writhing like living flames. "Help?" His laughter carries a note that makes even my warrior's blood run cold. "Why would I need help when I can feel the very fabric of reality bending to my will?"
He gestures, and the scattered pieces of the Destroyer rise into the air. "Watch," he commands, his voice resonating with power. The metal begins to twist and reform, not through physical force but through pure magical manipulation.
"Thor," Loki's projection speaks, his tone unusually grave. "That level of magical control... he's rewriting the fundamental enchantments of Asgardian craftsmanship."
I watch as ancient spells thousands of years old are undone and rewritten with casual ease. The raw power radiating from him now makes Mjolnir vibrate in my grip, responding to magic that shouldn't exist in any realm.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" The boy's voice carries an almost dreamy quality. "The way magic flows, the way it bends..." His expression suddenly darkens. "The way it breaks."
The reformed pieces of the Destroyer shatter into dust, the ancient enchantments unraveled completely. The display of power sends shivers through the air itself.
"Boy," I step forward, finally finding my voice. "This power... it's consuming you."
He turns to me, his luminous eyes focusing with frightening intensity. "Consuming me? No, Thor Odinson. It's freeing me." The air crackles with increasing magical pressure. "I can see everything now - every thread of destiny, every path of possibility..."
"That's what makes it dangerous," I respond, remembering Father's warnings about raw magical power. "No mortal mind was meant to comprehend such things."
His laughter turns sharp, almost brittle. "Mortal? I'm so far beyond mortal now. I could reshape worlds, rewrite the laws of-"
"Sam!" Stark interrupts, his armor's sensors likely warning him of the escalating danger. "Remember who you are!"
For a moment, something flickers across the boy's face - a brief shadow of recognition. But then his expression twists, the power surging visibly through his form.
"Who I am?" The winds pick up, carrying traces of his crimson energy. "I am power itself! I am-"
"A defender," I cut in, finally understanding what Mjolnir had been trying to tell me. "You stood against the Destroyer not for power, but to protect others."
The magical maelstrom hesitates for a fraction of a second. In that brief moment, I see conflict cross his features - the wonder of discovery warring with the intoxication of power.
But which side will win? And what price will we all pay if the power proves too seductive to resist?
The magical pressure continues to build even more, each pulse making the air itself shiver. Even with all my centuries of battle experience, I know this is beyond any force I could hope to contain. The power radiating from him rivals that of my father at his peak - perhaps even surpasses it.
"Warning," the mechanical voice cuts through the charged atmosphere, audible only to myself and Stark's enhanced systems, and perhaps the boy himself. "Continued exposure to pure anodite form risks permanent molecular destabilization. Human form integrity at risk of permanent loss."
Stark's armor shifts, projecting something into the air - images from across their realm. Cities filled with mortals, all watching, all witnessing. Their faces show not just fear, but concern. Worry. For him.
"Look at them, kid," Stark's voice carries an urgency I haven't heard before. "They're not running from you - they're worried about you. Every major city in America, people are watching, hoping you'll come back to yourself."
The crimson energy flickers, almost imperceptibly. "They... they fear me."
"No," Stark counters, the projections shifting to show closer views of the watching crowds. "They fear for you. There's a difference."
"The power..." Samael's voice wavers slightly, the first real crack in his euphoric state. "It feels so..."
"Intoxicating?" I step forward, remembering my own lessons in humility. "Aye, power often does. But true strength lies not in how much power we wield, but in knowing when to set it aside."
The winds whip faster, his white-light hair writhing more violently. "But I could do so much... fix so much..."
"At what cost?" Stark asks softly. "Your humanity? The very thing that made you step in front of that blast to protect others in the first place?"
Something shifts in his expression - a flicker of the mortal who stood against the Destroyer not for glory, but to protect.
"Warning: Human form integrity at critical levels. Immediate deactivation recommended."
The crimson energy pulses erratically now, his form flickering between solid and pure energy. The conflict plays across his features - power warring with humanity.
"I... I don't..." His voice carries both power and fear now. "I can't..."
"You can," I call out, raising Mjolnir not as a weapon, but as an anchor. "Choose who you wish to be, boy. Choose what truly matters."
With a roar that shakes the very air, he slams his hand against the symbol on his chest. The crimson light explodes outward, then collapses in on itself. As his human form returns, he plummets from the sky.
I move without thinking, catching his unconscious form before he can hit the ground. He feels so small now, so mortal - yet moments ago he wielded power that could have reshaped realms.
"The boy," I look to Stark, "will he...?"
"Vitals are stabilizing," Stark lands nearby, his armor's sensors scanning. "But that was... that was something else."
I adjust my grip on the unconscious youth, noting how peaceful he looks now compared to the raw power he just contained. "Aye," I agree softly. "Something else indeed."
And as the skies clear above us, I cannot help but wonder - what other powers does this boy possess? And more importantly, will he always be strong enough to choose humanity over godhood?
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(Author note: AND THAT'S THE END OF THE MASS RELEASE!
Tell me how did you all find the chapters? I'm really interested in reading your comments, interaction with you guys is one of the main reasons I write.
So yeah, I hope you all enjoyed the chapters,
I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)