“The terms you offer are laughable for a ‘god’.” The Trickster’s voice echoed from a hundred directions simultaneously—a chorus of Lokis that left Kingpin unable to pinpoint his true position.
“A ‘god’?” Kingpin, the self-styled ‘Emperor of the Underworld,’ notorious for his ruthless, overbearing nature, paused.
He was arrogant because he commanded the American criminal underworld; he had the capital to be arrogant.
But this stranger?
He was a nobody who relied on parlor tricks and hallucinations to claim divinity.
Kingpin let out a sharp, incredulous laugh, his grip tightening on his walking cane until the wood groaned.
“I am curious—what gave you the audacity?” Loki felt his irritation spike.
It had only been a few millennia; how had the people of Midgard devolved into such rampant atheists?
Nobody bowed, nobody worshipped—they only questioned.
In such a hostile environment, his work was nearly impossible.
And yet, Fisk was his ‘startup capital.’ His ability to gain a foothold in this world depended entirely on this moment.
The man’s stubbornness was grating, and Loki found himself rubbing his temples, his composure beginning to fray under the pressure.
Bullseye, sensing his new master’s frustration, stepped forward to bridge the gap.
He pointed to the target tattooed on his forehead and smiled.
“Kingpin, I know you rule the shadows of America, but since Tony Stark announced himself as ‘Iron Man,’ your troubles have only multiplied.
Super-powered heroes are popping up like weeds.
I’ve dealt with those problems for you.” “Given this trend, can you really not see where the future is headed?” Kingpin fell silent.
Bullseye wasn’t wrong.
Super-powered individuals were becoming a plague.
The Hand, an old-world power, was bad enough, but now he had Daredevil, the Punisher, and that meddlesome Spider-Man… Each was more lethal than the last, and because of his criminal empire, every single one of them was his enemy.
He recruited constantly, but he was always one bad day away from being outmatched by someone with a greater gift.
And every time he cooperated with the Hand, his lack of high-tier super-powered assets forced him to surrender profits he shouldn’t have lost.
As the ‘Emperor of the Underworld,’ Fisk felt the weight of that anxiety daily.
He hadn’t reached his position by strength alone; he had survived through foresight and an intimate understanding of human nature.
The future was the age of super-beings.
If he couldn’t ride the wind, he would be drowned by the tide.
Bullseye knew this, which is why he spoke up.
But… if he were to find a new master, he needed to see a path to prosperity.
Did this youth, dressed like a gilded stag, really fit the bill?
“Illusion spells alone are not enough for a partnership,” Kingpin said, choosing his words carefully.
“Tell me, by what right do you stand before me?” “By what right?” Loki flicked a glance at Bullseye and curled his lips into a satisfied, wicked smile.
“My name is Loki, son of Odin, the Trickster God of Asgard.
Behind me stands the Aesir, the rulers of the Nine Realms.
Is that background sufficient?” He had expected Loki to be a fraud, but the man spoke with the chilling certainty of a god.
Fisk stayed silent.
He knew lies were eventually stripped away; anyone bold enough to fool him was either a mad genius or a true lunatic.
Besides, he had ways to verify divinity.
If the man was a fraud, he would be liquidated.
If he was real, Fisk would be ascending to the heavens.
“If you are truly a god, what is your purpose?” Loki explained the ‘King’s Trial’ in detail.
Kingpin’s mind raced.
The world never lacked opportunists, and Odin’s latest stunt was the ultimate chance for the ambitious to bet on a winner.
Succeed, and you were a founding father of a new regime.
Fail, and you were ash.
The Trickster added a final detail: ‘Thor, the God of Thunder’ would descend in six months.
That would be the ultimate proof.
Three candidates for the King of Gods.
Whom to support?
Kingpin lived by a simple rule: Children make choices; I take it all.
“If all you say is true, what can you bring me?” The negotiation had begun—the sign of a softening stance.
Loki, as the God of Mischief, knew exactly how to play the game.
He didn’t have Thor’s obsession with brute force; he dealt in promises, and he was generous with them, even if they were blank checks.
“Submit now, and once I ascend the throne, I will grant you eternal life and endless power.
Future Midgard shall be governed by you, in my stead!” Eternal life?
Kingpin scoffed internally.
The All-Father himself was aging.
Still, he kept his face neutral, eyes narrowed as if in deep contemplation.
The immediate problem was verifying the truth, but that would be resolved in half a year.
The real question was how to invest in the three candidates and what role he should play.
Fisk bowed his head, his massive frame casting the shadow of a giant over the ring.
“To receive the favor of a god is my supreme honor.
Kingpin is willing to be a stepping stone on your path to the throne.” Look at that, Loki thought, satisfied.
The beauty of rhetoric.
He withdrew his illusions, not caring that Fisk hadn’t actually knelt.
Simple peasants, after all, lacked the etiquette of the court—it was entirely understandable.
“You are wise.
Unlike some mortals who simply do not know when to yield.” He thought of Daredevil—a stubborn, foul-smelling rock in a cesspool.
Little did Loki know, Kingpin was already calculating his own exit strategy: I will wine and dine you for six months.
If the God of Thunder doesn’t descend, I will grind your bones to dust.
Two men, each harboring their own treachery, had reached a marvelous ‘partnership.’ Had Karsa witnessed this, he would have shaken his head in disappointment; that his foolish brother would bother recruiting a petty pawn like Kingpin spoke volumes about the pitiable scope of his ambition.
At the same time, in the mystic sanctum of Kamar-Taj, the Ancient One sat in meditation, letting out a soft sigh.
Odin’s trial had dropped a colossal mess on her doorstep.
Loki and Thor were manageable, but Karsa, the God of Light… even she found him exhausting to deal with.
If a man like that wasn’t properly guided, he would bring catastrophe upon Earth.
She recalled the ‘Holy Grail War’ he had sparked thousands of years ago—an event that had driven countless mages into a frenzy of madness and bloodshed.
Had she not used her own power to seize the ritual magic that fueled it, Earth would never have known the peace it enjoyed today.
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