“It seems I need to teach you the meaning of manners!” Loki climbed to his feet.
His face was smudged with soot from the blast, and his expression was as dark as a gathering storm, yet beyond that minor indignity, he was entirely unscathed.
Daredevil retreated two steps, his ears straining to capture every detail.
He had heard the bullets hit, felt the shockwave of the grenade—he knew exactly how much force had been exerted.
The power the stranger displayed was simply unbelievable.
Is this another government-engineered super-soldier?
Bullseye shared the same sinking feeling.
If a grenade couldn’t kill him, this was a threat on par with the Hulk—a monster that had once nearly leveled Manhattan.
“If he’s really that tough, I’m going to need to renegotiate my contract with Fisk.” “You won’t have the chance.” The cold voice hadn’t finished fading when an illusion shimmered behind Bullseye.
Gold-horned helmet, twin daggers drawn—Loki struck with predatory precision.
Instincts honed by decades of assassination triggered a response; Bullseye lunged forward, hands hitting the pavement as he rolled to distance himself from the strike.
He flipped up, thinking he’d gained ground, but as he rose, a boot connected with his face.
The force launched him into the air, and he crashed back down, landing with a sickening thud.
His high bridge of a nose had collapsed, blood flowing like a burst pipe.
The kick had shattered his nasal bone entirely.
He looked up, gasping, but the space where the god had stood was empty.
He was invisible again.
“Daredevil!
Tell me where his true body is!” Bullseye snarled, wiping blood from his chin.
His fury was white-hot; he hadn’t suffered a humiliation this profound in his entire career.
Matt Murdock took another three steps back, his hands raised in a gesture of neutrality.
“Actually, given our history, I think I’m on his side of this argument.” “You idiot!
You think he’ll let you live after he kills me?” Bullseye roared, appalled by the vigilante’s shortsightedness.
It was a simple matter of survival, yet the hero couldn’t see the big picture.
Daredevil hesitated, but that moment of doubt was all Loki needed.
He delivered a brutal kick to Bullseye’s midsection, dropping the assassin to his knees.
He vomited bile, his capacity for combat shattered.
Against the raw, supernatural physiology of a Frost Giant bloodline, a human—no matter how skilled—was nothing but a toy.
Loki hauled Bullseye up by the collar with a single hand, his dagger resting lightly against the assassin’s throat.
“Choose…
submission or death?” “Submission!
I submit!” The killing frost radiating from the blade sent chills down Bullseye’s spine.
Fisk’s money was nice, but his life was his own, and the choice was effortless.
“Good.” Loki smirked.
Recruiting a useful tool right at the start eased the pressure.
He knew his position: facing two incredibly powerful brothers meant he needed to build a power base, and he wasn’t picky about the quality of his allies.
He tossed Bullseye aside like refuse and turned his attention to Daredevil.
“Your hearing is impressive.
You managed to track my heartbeat despite my illusions, and since you ignored the visuals, I assume you are blind.
Now, make your choice.
Submission or death?” “As a reward for your loyalty, once I ascend to the throne, I will restore your sight using the Asgardian infirmary.” “Asgardian infirmary?” Matt hesitated.
The specificity of the claim shook his resolve.
“Who are you really?
Are you truly a god?” Loki’s lips curled into a sneer.
“Ignorant.
Human civilization has evolved for millennia, yet your nature remains as stagnant as ever.” “What you call ‘Earth’ is but a single grain of sand in the Nine Realms.
In the vastness of the universe, there are countless races—you are insignificant.
Without the protection of our pantheon, you would have been reduced to slaves by cosmic scavengers long ago.” “Fine.
I’ll entertain the idea that you’re telling the truth,” Daredevil said, uninterested in theological debates.
He needed information.
“If you really are Loki, the God of Mischief, why come to Earth?
What is your actual goal?” Loki glanced at Bullseye, who was straining to listen from the ground.
He realized he needed to dangle a carrot; no one follows a leader with no future.
“I have two brothers.
The elder is Karsa, the God of Light; the younger is Thor, the God of Thunder.
Combined with myself, we are the three princes of Asgard.” “Unfortunately, there is only one throne.” “My father, Odin, is aged.
He intends to choose one of us to become the King of Gods.
Earth has been designated as the testing ground.
Whoever defeats the others earns the crown.” Daredevil was horrified.
“Because of your family drama, you’re turning Earth into a war zone?” “Womanly sentiment,” Loki spat, finding the vigilante’s morals laughable.
“My eldest brother, Karsa, once slaughtered every Frost Giant on Jotunheim over a meter tall.
My second brother, Thor, barks about spreading divine majesty through conquest.” “If they ascend the throne, what do you think will become of Earth?” Loki’s tone was smooth, laced with the arrogance of his station, but the words hit Matt like a bucket of ice water.
“I concede that none of us brothers are particularly ‘kind,’ but make no mistake: me taking the throne is the best possible outcome for you ants!” “I, Loki, guarantee it.
Help me defeat my brothers, and the pantheon will continue to protect Earth without interfering in your precious freedom.” “That…
that’s just your word.” Daredevil was overwhelmed.
He was a small-time hero, a man who beat up thugs in alleyways.
International politics were beyond him, but the prospect of intergalactic conflict was utterly outside his capacity.
“Regrettably, your choice was the wrong one.” Loki shook his head, his eyes turning cold.
He had a talent for manipulation, but this blind man’s stubbornness had finally exhausted his patience.
“Since you will not submit, I shall grant you, in the name of the gods…
death.” — Don’t forget to send Spirit Stones for more chapters.
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