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Chapter 324: Alex, Odin Wants to See You
🕑 Added 2025-09-14 17:00:10 +0000 UTC
The next moment.
Alex’s figure materialized inside the prison of Krakoa with a ripple of displaced air, his arrival as calm and effortless as though he had merely taken a step across a threshold. Behind him, Thor floated helplessly, his body held aloft in invisible bonds. He thrashed like a caged beast, his mouth wide with curses, his chest heaving as he roared until the veins in his neck bulged scarlet. Yet not a single sound escaped.
Alex’s telekinetic force formed an airtight barrier, not even the faintest vibration slipping through. The silence was absolute, leaving Thor’s rage nothing more than a silent pantomime of fury.
Otherwise, Alex thought with faint annoyance, the constant noise would have been unbearable.
“You won’t be smug for long.”
The words cut through the quiet, smooth and razor-sharp, dripping with a venomous confidence.
Alex’s gaze shifted lazily. In the nearby cell, Loki had risen from his cot and stepped into the dim light. His movements were deliberate, elegant, his poise unruffled even in captivity. His eyes gleamed as he spoke, voice edged with icy contempt.
“When the one who commands lightning finds you—believe me, that moment will come.” Loki’s lips curved with something between a sneer and a smile as he moved to the cell door, his boots striking the stone floor in measured rhythm. “And when it does—”
The god of mischief faltered. His words cut off mid-breath, as if a phantom hand had clamped tightly over his mouth.
Disbelief flickered across his face.
Because just behind Alex, a man floated in the air, roaring silently and thrashing within the confines of an unseen prison. His golden hair, normally radiant with divine vigor, was tangled and matted. His once-proud face was swollen with bruises, and the fire of his rage seemed dimmed by the futility of his struggle.
Thor.
And not the proud, unstoppable God of Thunder Loki remembered. This Thor looked more like a beaten stray, battered into silence, his struggles reduced to little more than an impotent display.
Loki blinked once, twice. For a heartbeat, he wondered if his eyes deceived him.
“That… that’s Thor.” His breath caught in his throat. “And he’s—defeated?”
The realization struck like a hammer blow.
Thor, who could split mountains with a single strike, who wielded Mjolnir with divine authority… reduced to this state?
Did this mean that aside from Odin himself, not a soul in Asgard could best this Midgardian?
The thought chilled Loki to the marrow. His heart trembled with both awe and a flicker of fear.
Thor, meanwhile, had gone still the instant his eyes landed on Loki. His fists unclenched mid-struggle, his wide eyes fixing on his brother with disbelief and raw emotion. His lips moved, shaping Loki’s name, calling out in recognition and longing.
But his voice, too, was swallowed by Alex’s telekinetic silence.
“Your Majesty!”
The mutant guards straightened the moment they saw Alex. Their voices rang with respect, their posture almost military in its crispness.
Alex inclined his head faintly, as if acknowledging little more than a breeze. “Open another cell.”
“Yes!”
The heavy clang of metal echoed as the cell beside Loki’s was unbolted and swung open. With a flick of his hand, Alex hurled Thor through the air like a discarded rag doll.
Boom!
The thunder god hit the ground hard enough to rattle the walls. Dust drifted down from the ceiling as Thor groaned, then rolled to his knees, dazed but stubbornly alive.
“Loki—it really is you!” Thor’s anger all but evaporated in the face of recognition. Bloodied though he was, his expression turned almost boyish with relief. “I thought you were dead!”
He staggered forward, pressing himself against the bars that separated him from his brother, eyes shining with raw, unguarded emotion.
Loki, however, was less touched.
For the first time since Alex entered, a spark of amusement glittered in his eyes. He took in Thor’s swollen face, the ragged cape clinging in tatters, the dirt smeared across his godly armor. A grin tugged at his lips—cold, cruel, utterly delighted.
“Well, well,” Loki drawled, his tone mocking. “What a rare sight. The mighty God of Thunder, reduced to dust and bruises. Tell me, brother, if you walked into Asgard now and introduced yourself as Thor, son of Odin, do you think anyone would believe you?”
There was no warmth in his voice, no joy in their reunion. Only icy ridicule, sharpened by years of envy and bitterness.
Thor’s relief twisted into anger. “And whose fault is all of this, Loki? You vanished without a trace—we even held a funeral for you!” His voice cracked with frustration as he pressed against the bars. “Why are you here? Why did you let us mourn for nothing?”
“Oh?” Loki tilted his head, eyes glimmering with cruel humor. “Did you cry for me, brother? Did Father shed tears for his wayward son?” His laugh was sharp, a sound with no joy in it.
Alex, watching from the sidelines, let a smirk curl at the corner of his mouth. “What a touching reunion. Truly heartwarming.”
Both brothers stiffened, their squabble halting instantly under his presence. Loki’s smirk faltered, and even Thor swallowed back further words, their gazes dropping for once.
Neither dared continue their quarrel in front of Alex.
Which was just as well, because Alex had no intention of lingering. He turned on his heel and strode from the prison, the brothers left staring after him, eyes locked once more through the bars in a silence heavy with unspoken words.
Outside, the air was fresher, though the weight of decisions pressed more heavily than stone walls. Raven approached swiftly, her expression taut with concern.
“Alex,” she said, her voice serious. “What do you plan to do with Thor and Loki?”
Her golden eyes searched his face, wary. These were not ordinary captives—they were princes of Asgard, living symbols of a kingdom whose shadow stretched far beyond the Nine Realms. Mishandling them could spark consequences that even Krakoa might not endure.
“What else?” Alex shrugged, his voice light. “Lock them up for a while. Then let them go.”
There was no malice in his tone, only matter-of-fact pragmatism. Their identities were too volatile to risk anything more permanent. The best he could do was discipline them, remind them of Krakoa’s strength, and then send them back.
Raven’s brows eased slightly, and she nodded. His answer aligned with her own cautious instincts.
She opened her mouth to speak further—
Whoosh!
A sudden shimmer blurred the air before them, like ripples spreading across water. A figure manifested, solidifying into the tall, imposing form of a man clad in golden armor, his eyes deep pools of starlit wisdom.
Alex recognized him immediately. Heimdall.
Only… not truly present. His form lacked substance, edges glowing faintly. This was no physical arrival, but a projection—an astral image wrought from Asgardian sorcery.
Alex knew the trick. Thor himself had used such magic once, trapped on Sakaar, to reach across worlds and commune with Heimdall.
It was impressive—even to Alex, a reminder of how wondrous magic could be.
“Alex,” Heimdall intoned, his voice resonant and steady. “I am Heimdall of Asgard.”
“I know who you are,” Alex replied, expression unreadable.
“I thought you might.” Heimdall inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the point.
Alex’s eyes narrowed faintly. “So tell me, Heimdall. Are you here for Thor and Loki? Don’t tell me this little matter has already reached Odin’s ears.”
It was difficult to imagine Odin troubling himself over such things. The All-Father had once stripped Thor of his powers and cast him to Earth as punishment—surely, Thor’s humiliation now was nothing compared to that.
Yet Heimdall’s reply was firm, unflinching.
“I am indeed here at King Odin’s command. But not for Thor and Loki.”
His gaze was steady, his words carrying weight like iron.
“Their disgrace is their own failing. Odin has no quarrel with that.”
