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Chapter 318: Alex Beats Loki to a Pulp
🕑 Added 2025-09-11 16:49:05 +0000 UTC
"Wait a minute—you know who I am?"
For a heartbeat, Loki faltered. His piercing green eyes narrowed, the mischief in them tempered by confusion. He tilted his head, dark hair falling like ink across his sharp cheekbones, and stared hard at Alex, as if trying to peel away layers of illusion. "Are you certain you know who I am?"
"Loki. From Asgard. Son of Odin. Did I get it right?" Alex’s tone was casual, almost teasing, the corner of his lips quirking upward in a smile that was equal parts mocking and amused. He raised an eyebrow, studying Loki as though he were examining a mildly interesting insect. "To be frank, you don’t exactly live up to the reputation. You look... just so-so."
When Alex had first landed in this world, he’d felt a kind of awe toward the gods out of myth and legend. Even knowing from the movies that Asgardians were no more than a long-lived alien race with access to advanced magic and technology, he hadn’t been able to dismiss their grandeur completely. After all, gods were still gods—wielders of arcane power, rulers who had walked the Nine Realms for thousands of years.
But now?
Standing here, looking Loki straight in the eye, Alex felt no reverence left in him. If anything, the so-called god looked like a child playing dress-up. Alex was certain—this trickster wouldn’t be able to withstand even a single serious strike from him. The mighty Asgardians? From this vantage point, they were no longer towering deities. They were simply… like this.
"What?"
Loki’s brows knit together. For once, his composure cracked.
This mortal not only recognized him but spoke his name and lineage with absolute certainty. It was—unthinkable! How could anyone from Midgard know him so precisely, so effortlessly?
But that wasn’t even the most jarring part. What unsettled him most was the utter absence of fear. No awe. No trembling reverence. Just mockery.
"Interesting…" Loki’s lips curled into a wicked smile after his brief shock. His voice slipped into that familiar silken tone, smooth as a dagger’s edge. "Imagine this: you step into a garden filled with ants. Suddenly, the ants not only recognize you, but one dares to sneer, to speak down to you. Even for me, that’s a novelty."
"Ants, huh?"
Alex chuckled, the sound low and dangerous.
Boom.
His laughter hadn’t even faded when the air split with a deafening sonic crack. One instant, Alex stood across the room. The next, he was right in front of Loki, faster than a blink, faster than a thought.
Loki’s eyes widened. "What—"
He had no time to finish.
A fist, wrapped in raw, explosive power, collided with him. The blow carried the weight of a thunderbolt.
The world inverted. Loki’s body became a projectile, slammed out of the air like a ragdoll, crashing against the stone floor with bone-jarring force.
His ears rang. Pain blossomed. His vision spun wildly.
"This… this can’t be!" Loki gasped, eyes bulging as he tried to process the impossible. A Midgardian—nothing more than a mortal—had sent him flying with a single punch. His pride reeled. I am a god! A god!
"You… how dare you lay hands on me! I am a god!" Loki’s voice cracked with fury as he staggered upright, his robe tattered, his dignity in shreds. His outrage echoed the same helpless roar he once unleashed against the Hulk in Stark Tower.
And Alex? He looked positively delighted. His grin widened, wolfish, intrigued.
"Hmm," Alex mused aloud, tilting his head, "that might actually be fun."
What would it feel like to beat Loki senseless—just like Hulk had?
The thought alone was tempting.
Whoosh. Whoosh.
The sharp rip of displaced air cut across the room. Loki, refusing to be humiliated further, leveled his scepter and fired off a volley of energy blasts. Golden light streaked through the air, each beam carrying lethal force.
Alex didn’t move.
He didn’t flinch.
The attacks struck him squarely, bursting against his body with blinding brilliance. But for Alex, it was little more than a mild itch on the skin, a breeze brushing past. He stood there, unmoved, smiling faintly through the haze of smoke.
Loki’s smirk of triumph froze mid-curve. Horror replaced arrogance.
What… what manner of creature is this?
No Midgardian should withstand his magic like that. Not even an Asgardian warrior would stand unscathed. Yet this man—this mortal—hadn’t even blinked.
Boom.
That thunderous sonic boom again.
Before Loki could retreat, Alex’s hand seized him by the ankle.
"What—no—!"
The world blurred. Then came the impact.
Wham!
Loki’s body smashed into the floor. The stones groaned. Dust flew.
Wham! Wham!
Again and again, Alex swung him like a ragdoll, slamming him mercilessly into the ground. Each crash shook the room, each strike more humiliating than the last. The proud Asgardian prince was reduced to nothing more than a battered toy in the hands of someone who had decided to play rough.
Raven and Hank stood frozen at the sidelines, beads of cold sweat forming on their foreheads. Their lips twitched, unable to fully process what they were witnessing.
A god—a god—was being used like a sandbag.
Too tragic. Too pitiful. Almost too painful to watch.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Seven, eight times, maybe more. Finally, Alex flung Loki aside, tossing him to the ground like a broken doll, discarded and useless.
"Not bad," Alex said, dusting off his hands with mock seriousness. "Though I’ve got to admit—it’s a little rough on the flooring."
Loki could only gape wordlessly, his dignity struck with a critical blow far worse than the physical pain.
Ignoring him, Alex bent down and picked up the scepter that had clattered to the ground. The weapon pulsed faintly in his hand, the Mind Stone gleaming within.
Alex’s smile deepened.
So easy. Almost laughably easy. Without lifting a finger, Loki had brought him the prize. Delivered right to his doorstep, like a thoughtful courier.
"Hank, take this back and keep it safe," Alex said offhandedly as he tossed the scepter toward him.
Hank didn’t argue. He accepted it quickly, clutching the artifact as if it might vanish, then retreated from the battlefield without delay.
"You…" Loki’s voice, hoarse and trembling, broke the silence. He dragged himself upright, his once-regal bearing reduced to a disheveled mess. His cloak was torn, his hair wild, his face marked with bruises. He looked nothing like the god of mischief—only a man stripped of pride. "You can’t be from Midgard. What… what are you?"
His eyes shook with something he rarely felt: fear.
This was no ordinary foe. Loki had toyed with kings and armies, deceived gods and mortals alike, but this man had toyed with him. Thrown him around as if he were weightless. Even Thor… even Thor might not match such monstrous strength.
"Who I am is none of your concern." Alex’s voice was calm, almost bored, but his eyes gleamed with disdain. "But you? You dared to covet my Tesseract. That’s just your misfortune."
Loki froze. His stomach tightened. He knows? He knows everything?
From the moment he appeared, this man had spoken as if omniscient—knowing his name, his lineage, even his secret schemes. And coupled with this terrifying power… Alex felt unfathomable, immeasurable.
Still, Loki clung stubbornly to pride.
"The Tesseract is yours?" he spat, though his tone lacked conviction. "Foolish mortal—it has always belonged to Asgard. To my father, Odin!"
Alex barked a laugh, sharp and scornful.
"Oh really? Is Odin’s name engraved on it somewhere? Does it leap into his hand when he calls?"
His mockery hung in the air, heavier than any strike.
