Chapter 79: Thor’s Bad Luck

Hearing Thor's furious declaration, Luke struggled to keep a straight face. A god of hammer who couldn't even hold onto his hammer was threatening him? It was like a beggar trying to impress a queen, comically sad. Luke turned around slowly, retracing his steps. A contemptuous smirk curled across his lips as he stared up at the brainless god's infuriatingly handsome face like he wasn't even worth the dust on his boots. He now understood why Odin didn't pass the throne to Thor earlier. Sure, the guy had muscles. But his brain? Let's just say there wasn't much activity there. Luke had no patience for brute-force idiots, especially ones who started a fight without thinking. And when someone like that got in his face, twice at that, well, then the only appropriate response was to break them. Not physically, but psychologically. Completely. "You sure you want to do this?" Luke asked coldly. If it were anyone else, maybe Luke would've tried to explain things calmly. Maybe. But Thor had clearly already decided Luke was guilty and refused to listen. There was no reasoning with him, only consequences. People often confuse indifference with weakness. So he thought it was better to remind them otherwise, just once, and very clearly. Nick Fury's heart nearly stopped when he heard those words. This was it. They were really going to fight. And that meant his flying fortress, the pride of S.H.I.E.L.D., was in danger of complete destruction. But he wasn't an idiot. Standing between these two was a quick way to become a red smear on the ground. If they were going to clash, he needed backup, fast. He took a careful step back, tapped his earpiece, and muttered, "Romanoff, rally everyone to Area A. Thor's about to throw hands with Luke." With that done, he slowly retreated to the shadows of the room. Watching, bracing himself for the worst, but praying it didn't happen. Just then, Doggo stepped forward to shield Luke, a low growl rumbling in his throat. His fur shimmered faintly, green energy bubbling at the edges as he prepared to transform. But Luke casually kicked the giant pup aside with a grunt, "Not this time, buddy. I've got this one." Doggo looked back at him, ears down, betrayed and confused. His expression said it clearly: you, Luke? Meanwhile, outside the shattered doorway, the yellow Camaro paused mid-transformation. The Autobot's scanners, synced to Luke's vitals, had been tracking the situation closely. But unlike Doggo, it had enough sense to wait and watch. Thor, meanwhile, burned with rage. He'd heard about Luke from Natasha and Steve, about his strange "power" that wasn't really his. A guy who relied on pets and gadgets. Without them, what was he? Nothing. "I will teach you what it means to defy a god!" Thor growled, standing tall. Then he lunged, swinging his fist toward Luke's shoulder, not to kill, just to punish. He wasn't trying to be cruel. Just... assert his superiority. After all, he wasn't a hundred percent sure it was really Luke who threw his brother down, and was also quite confident Loki was still alive. But as the blow closed in... [Ding! Thor is trying to harm the host, which displeases the boots on his feet. The boots, annoyed because he's using his fists instead of feet, chose to increase their weight in silent protest.] Thor's eyes widened. His boots suddenly felt like anchors. With no time to adjust mid-stride, his footing collapsed beneath him. Thud! The mighty God of Thunder tripped over his own feet and slammed face-first into the floor. Fury's mouth hung open in disbelief. Did he really just witness Thor trip like a drunken freshman? This wasn't just bad luck. This was a full-blown curse. First Loki, then Mjölnir, and now face-planting in front of the entire crew? Thor didn't try to get up. He just lay there, dazed, nose squished against the deck, his soul temporarily ejected from his body. For a full ten seconds, he didn't even blink. At that moment, the sound of rushing footsteps echoed down the hall. The rest of the Avengers arrived in full force, Tony, Natasha, Steve, Bruce, every one of them bracing for war. But what they saw froze them in place. Thor, face-down like a defeated wrestler. Luke, standing a few feet away, completely untouched. Tony was the first to break the silence. "Okay... this is awkward. Should we... come back later?" Fury couldn't even respond. He was still trying to process what he'd just seen. And Thor? Still on the floor. He didn't dare look up. Luke stood there, calm as ever, a small twitch threatening to betray the grin on his face, but he managed to keep his poker face. This was supposed to be a god vs. mortal showdown. Instead, it looked like a slapstick skit gone horribly right. Then Luke stepped forward, carefully sidestepping Thor's still-motionless form. Everyone turned to watch, barely breathing as he stopped in front of Mjölnir. Without hesitation, he bent down, gripped the handle, and... Lifted it. Like it weighed nothing. The hammer that could only be lifted by those deemed "worthy," forged in the heart of a dying star... was now resting in Luke's hand like a toy. Thor chose that exact moment to lift his head and look back. And what he saw nearly broke him. Luke, holding his hammer. The same hammer that just rejected him. His mouth fell open, his brain refused to cooperate. By the very same person he had dismissed as an insignificant mortal. The young man was now casually wielding what he considered the greatest weapon in Asgard. In that moment, Thor's pride hit absolute rock bottom. ...