“This guy…
his spear-craft is so exquisite.
Does he have no weaknesses at all?” In Earth’s outer orbit, aboard the space station, Nick Fury stood in his black trench coat, eye patch firmly in place.
His dark, grim face was etched with deep concern.
Beside him, the Skrull leader Talos stroked his chin, clearly stunned.
“According to the visual feeds relayed by Natasha, he is indeed a troublesome foe.
Currently, perhaps only Captain Marvel could suppress him.” As he spoke, he looked at his long-time companion, whose face was heavy with burden.
“Fury, shall we call for external aid?” Fury remained silent.
After a long pause, he finally sighed.
“I really don’t want to disturb her unless it’s an absolute last resort.
But Earth is under the jurisdiction of Asgard; I cannot tolerate such a ‘God-King’ ascending.
For Earth, this would be a curse, not a blessing.” Talos nodded.
“The title of the God of Light and his cruelty are known even across the galaxy.
His ruthless, arrogant nature makes Thanos look mild in comparison.” Thanos, at least, had the excuse of population control to maintain cosmic balance.
Karsa, however, acted purely on whims.
He didn’t care about justice or evil; if you annoyed him, he ended your life.
The only silver lining was that Karsa didn’t roam the universe looking to purge life; he preferred to rot in his palace unless something truly interested him.
As the two consulted, the battle on the White House South Lawn had reached a boiling point.
Three vibrant, blood-red spear-flowers descended upon Thor.
He spun his trident like a storm, dancing with wide, sweeping arcs to dissipate the lethal petals.
Yet, every time his trident made contact, the spear-flowers seemed to multiply.
Clang!
Clang!
Bang!
The weapons clashed incessantly, filling the air with a dizzying, crimson display of martial art.
Stark, watching from the sidelines, was completely bewildered.
He frantically hailed JARVIS: “Scan the scene!
Build a model!
Tell me, which of those spear-flowers is the real one?” The eyes of the Iron Man armor flickered with red light.
Relying on massive computing power, JARVIS quickly replied: “Sir, all the spear-flowers are real, and yet they are all illusions.
His flow is continuous, his speed is extreme, and he controls the rhythm with perfect precision.
No matter where Thor attacks, the spear-tip is already waiting to meet him.” “Wait, so if every strike hits his spear-tip, why are some of the flowers still being dissipated?” Stark, brilliant as ever, caught the discrepancy.
JARVIS: “Theoretically, yes.
The reason for this could be…” “He’s going easy on him?” Before the AI could finish, Tony had the answer.
Yet, he was instantly filled with doubt.
Why would he do that?
Isn’t he here for the throne?
“Sir, things may not be as simple as you think.” The computer mainframe in the Malibu villa computed at breakneck speed.
“Since the God of Light appeared, he has been forcing Thor.
Whether it was nearly killing the Hulk or torturing Captain America, every step has been a pressure cooker.
Yet, Thor—the true protagonist—remains unscathed.” Stark grew solemn.
It was true.
The Avengers were battered, crippled, and broken, yet Thor had been consistently spared.
Is he trying to force Thor to awaken his potential?
As it turned out, Stark was right.
Karsa was pushing Thor to the brink.
“Too slow!
Too slow!
My foolish brother, have you become an old man who can no longer move, just like our father?” The Gáe Dearg glowed with a demonic red light.
Karsa’s body flickered across the lawn, leaving behind countless illusions.
Before one afterimage faded, another appeared.
It looked as if he had grown three heads and eight arms, and yet, he still had the breath to spare for mockery.
Seeing the sea of spear-shadows压迫 (bearing down) on him, Thor was drenched in sweat.
Faster!
Faster!
It’s fake!
This is fake!
Another fake!
He pierced through image after image, but the lack of resistance told him the truth.
He accelerated, desperate.
Karsa was satisfied, but they were still a step away.
He needed to apply more pressure.
With a flick of his spear, Thor felt a sharp sting at his waist.
He didn’t even dare to look—he knew that if he faltered for a second, the Captain would take another hit.
It was an intolerable thought.
Captain America: (.-ω-)zzz…
Thanks, I guess!
The lethal flowers soon dripped with blood.
Every strike was precise, sinking deep into flesh but missing bone—accurate to the millimeter.
But the continuous blood loss left Thor feeling increasingly weak.
Is this…
where I stop?
Thor’s consciousness blurred.
Before his eyes, Karsa’s maddening, twisted grin flickered, followed by the desperate faces of the Avengers.
Hallucinations flashed by like a runaway carriage.
Suddenly…
In the haze, a frantic call echoed in his ears: “Thor!
Thor!
Get up!
Defeat him!
You have to defeat him!” That’s…
Loki’s voice?
Thor smiled bitterly.
This cowardly, proud fool said he wouldn’t come, yet he had been hiding in the shadows all along.
Too bad…
you’re too late…
With that thought, he slumped to the ground and closed his eyes.
In reality, Loki suddenly shimmered out of invisibility.
Seeing his brother lying in a pool of blood, his heart skipped a beat.
He scrambled toward him, panic-stricken.
“Wake up!
Wake up, Thor!
You love to fight, don’t you?
Get up!
Get up!!” He cradled the Thunder God, weeping like a helpless child.
Gods save us—they might have played and quarreled, but who ever wanted the other dead?
And now this god-forsaken Karsa was actually killing his own brother for a throne!
“Are you insane?” Loki, red-eyed, screamed at Karsa with a ferocity he had never dared show before in his life.
Karsa looked down at Loki, whose expression was that of a man seeing his father’s murderer.
The tip of the Gáe Dearg was still dripping with fresh blood.
“On the road to becoming a King, there will always be necessary sacrifices!
What?
You, who voluntarily joined the ‘Trial of the King’—did you not even possess that much resolve?” “Heh.” Loki gave a miserable laugh, his expression filled with infinite disappointment and sorrow.
“So, you’re going to kill me too?” “Is there any reason I shouldn’t?” Karsa narrowed his eyes, his voice devoid of even a shred of emotion.
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