Marvel x Genshin: Mavuika, The Sun Goddess Rules Asgard — Chapter 162

Chapter 162: The Thunder Answers

The Black Sky lunged, a blur of motion that closed the distance to Mavuika in a heartbeat. It raised a hand, its fingers having warped into obsidian talons, each nail honed to the sharpness of a surgical blade.

With an almost casual grace, Mavuika swayed to the side, the deadly claws whispering past her. In the same fluid motion, she countered, her open palm striking the creature’s chest.

A sunburst of gold-red flame erupted from the point of impact.

The Black Sky was blasted backward, a living projectile that tore through a mountain of shipping containers. It vanished into the tangled mess of corrugated steel with a deafening crash, buried beneath the tons of wreckage.

Murakami’s jaw tightened, his composure finally cracking.

“Is that all it’s got?” Thor scoffed, a dismissive curl to his lip.

Madam Gao’s serene smile only deepened, her ancient eyes crinkling at the corners. “The performance is not yet over.”

As if on cue, a low, guttural growl echoed from the ruins. The mangled containers began to tremble, then twist and groan as if being crushed by an invisible force from within.

The Black Sky rose from the wreckage.

It had changed.

Ink-black runes now crawled across its entire body, coiling around its limbs like parasitic vines. Its musculature swelled grotesquely, its frame skyrocketing from a human 1.8 meters to a monstrous 2.5. Its skin had taken on the color of dark ash, and wicked, curved fangs sprouted from its mouth.

But its eyes—

They remained pits of absolute black, yet now, something stirred within that void. It was a horrifying illusion, like countless vipers slithering over one another, or perhaps the silent, screaming faces of a thousand tormented souls.

The “Beast” had descended.

With a roar that was no longer human, the Black Sky charged again. This time, its speed had doubled, a shadowy streak that defied the eye.

Thor met the charge head-on, striding forward and throwing a powerful right hook aimed squarely at its face. His fist, which could shatter stone, connected with a sickening, metallic thud. It was like striking a solid steel plate. The Black Sky didn’t so much as flinch.

For a split second, Thor’s face was a mask of disbelief.

That was all the opening the Beast needed. It swiped a clawed hand across his chest.

Thor was sent flying, tumbling end over end across the concrete before he finally slammed into a stack of heavy wooden crates, shattering them into a shower of splinters.

“Thor!” Mavuika called out, her calm expression finally touched by concern.

He crawled from the debris, his chest torn open by several deep, bloody gashes. It was the first time he had been wounded since arriving on Earth.

“I’m fine!” he bellowed, a wild grin spreading across his face. “This thing is actually interesting!”

Ignoring the pain, he charged back into the fray. He’d learned his lesson; instead of meeting overwhelming force with his own, he now relied on his superior speed and combat skill. He weaved and dodged, throwing sharp left and right hooks, targeting the Beast’s joints with brutal precision.

The Black Sky’s reactions were inhumanly fast, but Thor, the God of Thunder, was faster.

Within seconds, he had landed more than a dozen punches, each one carrying enough force to blast through a reinforced wall.

Yet the Beast simply stood there, weathering the storm of blows without moving an inch. It looked down at the Asgardian prince, and in the roiling darkness of its eyes, a flicker of what looked disturbingly like ridicule appeared.

Then, it raised a hand and brought its palm down on Thor’s shoulder.

The impact drove Thor to one knee, the concrete cracking beneath him. A sharp, agonizing pain shot through his shoulder, threatening to dislocate the joint.

“Damn it…” he gritted out, his teeth clenched. “Without the hammer, this is a real pain…”

The Black Sky raised a foot, preparing to stomp down and crush him.

Loki’s form flickered, ready to intervene, but Thor’s voice stopped him cold.

“Let me do it!”

Thor roared, his voice raw but burning with unyielding determination. He forced himself to his feet, wiping a smear of blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. His gaze locked onto the Beast. In his brilliant blue eyes, there was no fear, no thought of retreat—only a stubborn, obsessive fire.

He repeated, his voice lower but more intense, “Let me do it myself.”

Loki’s hand, already glowing with faint green energy, froze in mid-air.

Thor charged once more.

This time, he fought like a cornered animal, a wounded lion throwing itself recklessly at its hunter. Fists, knees, elbows, even his forehead—he used every part of his body as a weapon, unleashing a frantic, desperate assault on the Black Sky.

A punch to the jaw.

A knee to the gut.

An elbow to the back of the neck.

A headbutt to the bridge of its nose.

Every strike was delivered with the full measure of his strength, fueled by his rage and his absolute refusal to be defeated. The Beast was driven back step by step, letting out low, angry growls.

But its counterattacks were even more ferocious. Its talons raked across Thor’s body, leaving a fresh mix of wounds. As more blood flowed, Thor’s movements began to slow, his powerful strikes losing their steam.

Finally, his strength gave out. He collapsed to one knee, gasping for air, his lungs burning. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead, blurring his vision with a crimson haze.

The Black Sky stood over him, a towering silhouette of death. It looked down, and in those pitch-black eyes, there was no mercy, only the cold, final intent to kill.

It raised its talons, preparing to deliver the finishing blow.

“Enough.”

Loki’s hand swept through the air. A pulse of shimmering green magic shot forth, wrapping around the Black Sky and freezing it in place. The creature’s claws stopped less than an inch from Thor’s scalp, held fast by an invisible force. It struggled against the bonds, letting out a furious, frustrated roar, but it couldn’t move.

Loki walked calmly to his brother’s side and looked down at his battered form.

“Don’t mention it,” he said dryly.

Thor managed a weak grin, his blood-stained face etched with relief. “Who’s thanking you?” he rasped. “Though… I suppose there really are times when one shouldn’t try to be a hero alone.”

He struggled to stand, his body swaying unsteadily, but his eyes were brighter than ever. Loki offered a hand, and Thor took it.

“Next time you require assistance, you could simply ask,” Loki whispered, his voice low enough for only Thor to hear.

Thor let out a short, pained laugh. He straightened his back, took a deep, steadying breath, and his gaze fell upon the Black Sky, still straining against Loki’s magic. A change came over him—a sudden certainty, a feeling that something deep within him had just clicked into place. He felt as if a great weight, one he hadn’t even fully realized was there, had just been lifted. He had broken through his father’s seal.

Slowly, he reached out his hand.

“Mjolnir,” he whispered, the name a prayer on his lips.

Miles away, resting quietly in Mavuika’s home, the hammer began to vibrate. It let out a low, resonant hum, a sleeping giant stirring in response to its master’s call.

Then, it took flight.

Mjolnir rocketed through the night sky, a silver comet accompanied by the shriek of displaced air. It spun through the darkness, a living weapon flying true toward its wielder.

Thor’s fingers closed around the familiar leather-wrapped handle.

In that same instant, the heavens answered.

Dark clouds boiled overhead, and a colossal bolt of lightning descended from the sky, striking the hammer with a deafening crack of thunder. The raw power of the storm surged from Mjolnir, up Thor’s arm, and into his entire body, illuminating the pier in a blinding flash of white-blue light.

The wounds covering his body sealed and vanished. The blood on his skin sizzled and vaporized in the intense electrical field. His torn tracksuit was shredded to ashes, revealing the solid, divine muscle beneath.

Thor stood in the heart of the maelstrom, his golden hair whipping about his face, his eyes now blazing with crackling blue energy. He raised Mjolnir high and let out a triumphant, primal roar that shook the very heavens.

“HAAAAA—!!!”

Thunder boomed in response, and arcs of lightning lashed out in all directions. The massive shipping containers on the pier rattled and shifted, and the concrete ground spiderwebbed with deep cracks under the sheer force of his rebirth.

Held in Loki’s magical restraints, the Black Sky struggled, and for the very first time, raw, instinctual fear appeared in the depths of its black eyes.

Loki released his hold.

The Beast was free, but it didn’t lunge at Thor. Instead, it took a hesitant step back.

It was afraid.

Thor looked down at the hammer in his hand, feeling the familiar, surging power of the storm flowing through his veins. He looked up at the Black Sky, a confident, dangerous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Now,” he said, his voice rumbling with power, “it’s my turn.”

Thor moved.

He was no longer just fast; he was lightning itself, a blur of motion that streaked across the pier. Mjolnir, humming with the power of the cosmos, smashed toward the Black Sky, its head tearing through the air with a piercing whistle.

The Beast raised its talons to parry.

Hammer met claw. The collision erupted in a deafening explosion of force. A shockwave ripped outward, sending gravel and debris flying in all directions. An ominous, wet crack echoed from the Black Sky’s arm—its bone had shattered.

It let out a pained, inhuman howl and stumbled back.

Thor gave it no time to recover. He was on it in an instant, Mjolnir already swinging in a second devastating arc.

This strike crashed into the Beast’s shoulder. The joint collapsed inward with a sickening crunch, and the creature was smashed to its knees, the stone slabs of the pier shattering beneath the force of the impact.

A third strike slammed into the Black Sky’s chest.

Its body shot backward like a cannonball, plowing through an entire row of containers before it was finally embedded in the thick concrete wall at the pier’s edge, half of its broken form left dangling over the dark river water.

It struggled feebly, trying to rise, but its injuries were too severe. Under the relentless assault of the divine lightning coursing through its body, the black runes began to peel away from its skin, flaking off and drifting into the night like pieces of charred paper.