On the South Lawn of the White House, a bleak wind swept across the grass.
Even with the warm sun beating down, the onlookers couldn’t help but shudder.
“Is the relationship between those brothers really that bad?” Stark muttered to himself.
The remark transmitted through the comms to Steve Rogers, who replied, “I seem to recall your relationship with your own father wasn’t exactly harmonious.” “That’s completely different!” Tony bristled like a cat with its tail stepped on.
Atop the Roosevelt statue, Karsa stood high and mighty.
His Ea hummed with a haunting wind-whistle, dark red light swirling around it like a god of creation looking down upon the myriad manifestations of the world.
Thor gripped his hammer, his expression grave.
In his earpiece, Nick Fury’s voice echoed relentlessly: “Thor, do you have any chance of winning?” “To be honest, I have no idea!” For once, the impulsive Thunder God hesitated.
“Karsa has possessed a terrifying power called ‘Cosmo’ since he was a child.
When he broke through the limits of the five senses—sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch—his physical strength already far eclipsed any other Asgardian.” “If not for his arrogance, he would have been the greatest warrior in the palace long ago.” “His physical strength eclipsed every other Asgardian?” Nick Fury was speechless, shocked beyond measure.
Thor’s physical strength was something they had all witnessed firsthand.
Not even the Hulk could deal lasting damage to him; the green giant could only bruise him, leaving him looking a bit disheveled.
But if Karsa surpassed the entire Aesir race…
did that mean he was even stronger than Odin?
Thor remained silent.
“If that were all, he wouldn’t be the strongest.
The key is that at twenty, he broke through to the Sixth Sense.
This realm awakens abilities like elemental manipulation, telekinesis, flight, illusions, telepathy, mind control, and intuition.” “I don’t know which one he awakened, but he can perfectly utilize all the unique techniques developed by the twelve Gold Saints.” “That doesn’t sound that impressive,” Stark interjected with a flippant tone.
“Can’t you manipulate lightning, too?” Thor offered a bitter, mirthless smile.
“When he was at the Sixth Sense, I could hold my own against him for a while.
But the Gold Saints are all at least Seventh Sense—they have grasped the essence of Cosmo, possessing unshakable faith and awakening the depths of their hearts, spirit, soul, life, and capacity.
Compared to the Sixth Sense, it’s the difference between heaven and earth!” “And Karsa has broken the boundary between life and death.
He has grasped the ultimate: the Eighth Sense, the Alaya-vijnana.” “In other words, time can no longer leave its mark on him.
He will remain in his peak state forever.” “Forever in his peak state?” Silence descended on the team.
They finally grasped the true scale of the God of Light’s power.
Karsa watched them quietly, eventually breaking the silence.
“My foolish brother, have you not reached a conclusion yet?
If you’re struggling to decide, you’re all welcome to come at me at once!” At once?
Thor glanced at the Avengers, now utterly incapacitated.
Only Steve Rogers remained unscathed.
Theoretically, Captain America was one of the few on Earth who could hold his own in a 50/50 fight; perhaps he could make a difference.
“You are too arrogant!” Thor’s eyes burned with murder.
We are both sons of Odin!
Even if there is a gap, how wide can it truly be?
He reared back and hurled Mjolnir straight at Karsa.
Simultaneously, Captain America sprinted and launched his shield.
Both weapons arrived almost at the same time—one from the front, one from the side.
Karsa laughed dismissively.
He swung Ea casually, not even bothering to look.
The weapon didn’t even touch the shield; the sheer wind pressure surrounding the sword blew it out of the air.
As Mjolnir roared toward his face, Karsa reached out with his other hand, moving faster than the eye could follow, and caught the hammer mid-air.
“My foolish brother, only by experiencing the greatest of highs and the lowest of lows can you see the truth in your heart.
Let your beloved older brother bestow upon you a crushing defeat like no other!” He tightened his fingers.
Mjolnir let out a pained, metallic shriek.
Then, a blinding explosion of thunderous plasma erupted!
A violent shockwave blasted outward, turning the sky and earth into a sea of white.
The onlookers shielded their eyes, blinded by the sudden radiance.
When the light faded, everyone stared in disbelief.
Thor stood motionless, his face drained of color, unable to believe what he was seeing.
“Mjolnir…
it’s shattered?” Natasha whispered.
Even Nick Fury, watching from his orbital station, felt his sense of reality fracture.
Natasha, what are you saying?
How could Mjolnir be shattered?
Fury had tested that hammer—its durability was on par with vibranium, reinforced by ancient magic.
It was a priceless divine artifact.
Yet, Karsa had crushed it into fragments with one hand.
Impossible!
It’s impossible!
Thor watched the shards of his hammer littering the ground, stunned.
He knew there was a gap, but he had always believed he could catch up.
After all, they were both princes of Asgard.
How wide could the chasm really be?
Now, he was truly shaken.
Was this a level of power attainable by mortals?
Were they even the same species?
Was Karsa adopted?
No…
perhaps I and Loki are the ones who were picked up!
In those few seconds, a thousand thoughts raced through the Thunder God’s mind.
He finally understood the despair Loki must have felt facing his two brothers.
They were all princes of the same palace, yet the gap in their power was like an abyss.
A deep sense of defeat washed over him, to the point where his confidence in fighting for the throne evaporated.
With such a gap, why even bother?
“Thor!
Thor!
What are you doing?” The urgent shout snapped him out of it.
He turned to see Steve Rogers dodging a furious barrage of weapons—blades, spears, axes, and halberds—flying out of the golden light.
“Run, run!
You lowly mouse!
Let me see how much potential you really have!” Karsa toyed with Captain America like a cat with a cornered prey.
He had heard rumors in his previous life that Rogers could go toe-to-toe with anyone in a 50/50 fight; he wanted to see if it were true.
A longsword whistled toward him like a cannonball.
Rogers curled his body, tucking behind his shield.
Ding!
The impact sent tremors through his arm, the force of the strike equivalent to being hit by actual artillery.
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