Marvel x Genshin: Mavuika, The Sun Goddess Rules Asgard — Chapter 163

Chapter 163: Total Annihilation

Thor gripped his hammer, the familiar weight a comforting anchor as he walked slowly across the pier. He came to a stop before the hulking form of Black Sky and raised Mjolnir high.

Dazzling lightning, brighter than any city light, coiled around the hammer’s head, crackling with raw power and illuminating the entire waterfront in a stark, electric blue.

The hammer fell.

Lightning erupted in a blinding torrent. Black Sky’s body, a monument to dark alchemy, crumbled within the storm. Its bulging muscles withered like dried fruit, its sharp claws snapped and fell away, and the arcane runes etched into its skin burned into ash before being scattered by the ozone-laced wind.

An unbelievable, deathly silence descended upon the pier.

Fifty ninjas stood rooted to the spot, their bodies frozen as if by a sorcerer’s spell. Their blades remained raised mid-air, yet not a single one dared to take another step.

What had they just witnessed?

That blond strongman—the one who had been beaten by Black Sky until he was covered in wounds, barely able to stand—had suddenly summoned a hammer from the heavens. He had become wreathed in lightning, a living storm, and then, with three devastating strikes, had smashed their ultimate weapon into a useless ruin.

Impossible… This is impossible…

Murakami’s hand trembled where he gripped the hilt of his sword. His face was a ghastly shade of pale, his lips quivered, and his eyes were fixed on the hammer in Thor’s hand as if it were the face of God himself.

“Impossible…” Madam Gao took an involuntary step back, her usually kind, grandmotherly face now a mask of pure terror. “The ‘Beast’… How could the ‘Beast’ be defeated…?”

She had lived for centuries, had seen countless powerful individuals rise and fall, but she had never witnessed power like this. Lightning and thunder, wielded as a personal weapon—it was not the power of a man, but of a god.

She turned, her only instinct to flee.

“Stay right there.”

Loki’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried across the pier with an unnatural clarity. It was a terrifyingly calm sound, like a sheet of ice forming in the dead of winter, chilling to the very bone.

Madam Gao’s footsteps froze. She didn’t dare move.

Loki walked toward her, his pace unhurried. He didn’t even spare a glance for Murakami as he passed the frozen Hand leader. He stopped directly in front of Madam Gao, his height forcing her to crane her neck to look up at him.

“You want to run now?” he asked, his tone deceptively soft.

Madam Gao’s lips trembled, but no words came out.

Loki let out a soft, airy chuckle. The smile that touched his lips was utterly devoid of warmth; it was a cold, sharp thing.

“You’ve come looking for trouble with my big sister time and time again,” he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur. His gaze flicked to the smoldering wreckage of Black Sky on the ground. “And now you’ve even brought… this sort of thing.”

Madam Gao stumbled back another step. “We… we can compensate you…”

Loki tilted his head, a flicker of cruel amusement in his eyes. “Compensate?”

She nodded frantically, desperately. “Money, territory, power—you can have whatever you want—”

Loki laughed. It was louder this time, a clear, ringing sound that held no joy, only deep, condescending mockery.

“Mortals,” he said, the word dripping with disdain. “Do you truly think I lack such trivial things?”

He raised his hand, and an emerald-green magical light condensed at his fingertips, swirling like a captured nebula.

Madam Gao’s eyes widened in horror.

A flash of green light.

And she was gone. She vanished into thin air, leaving behind no blood, no corpse, not even a whisper of ash. It was as if she had never existed at all.

As the fifty ninjas watched this silent, absolute erasure, a tide of pure, primal fear finally broke their paralysis. Some turned to flee, some dropped to their knees to beg for a mercy they knew wouldn’t come, and others simply slumped to the ground, their legs giving out from under them.

Loki turned, his gaze sweeping over them. It was as cold and distant as the winter stars in the dead of night.

“You lot,” he said, his voice a final judgment. “Not one of you will escape.”

He raised his hand again.

The green light spread out from his palm, enveloping the entire pier in its ethereal glow. The ninjas’ bodies began to blur, their solid forms wavering like pencil marks being erased from a page. There were no screams, no struggles—they just vanished, bit by bit, unmade from existence as if they had been nothing more than a bad dream.

A few seconds later, the pier was empty.

The fifty ninjas, Murakami, and Madam Gao were all gone. There were no bloodstains, no bodies, no trace of any kind. Only the river wind blew across the vacant planks, making a low, whistling sound.

Fifty-three lives had simply been extinguished without a sound. No trace, no evidence. No one would ever know what had happened here.

Thor stood to the side, watching it all unfold. Mjolnir was still clutched in his hand. The wounds on his body had mostly healed, leaving only the dark stains of blood on his torn clothes. He didn’t speak.

Loki turned his head to look at him. “What?” he asked, a challenge in his tone. “Do you think I was wrong?”

Thor was silent for a long moment. He thought of these ninjas, who had come seeking to harm his sister again and again. He thought of the black monster they had unleashed. He thought of the woman, Jessica, who had been controlled by that vile man for months, forced to do things that broke her spirit. He thought of the ordinary people oppressed by Kingpin, the poor souls trapped in high-interest loans they could never repay.

He remembered his father’s words, spoken long ago in the halls of Asgard: A true king must know how to protect his people.

He raised his head and met Loki’s gaze. “No,” he said, his voice unexpectedly calm and firm. “They got what they deserved.”

Loki raised a single, surprised eyebrow.

Thor hoisted Mjolnir onto his shoulder, the movement casual and confident. “They came looking for trouble with Big Sister,” he stated simply. “Then they should face the consequences.” He paused, a wry twist on his lips. “I just didn’t expect you to be so… clean and efficient.”

A small, genuine smile touched Loki’s lips. “I am the God of Mischief,” he said. “Leaving no trace is a basic skill.”

Thor curled his lip. “Alright then.”

He turned and walked toward Mavuika. Loki fell into step behind him.

Mavuika stood exactly where she had been, watching her two younger brothers approach. Her expression was perfectly calm, revealing neither joy nor anger, a placid lake hiding great depths.

Thor walked up to her, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “Big Sister…”

Mavuika’s gaze settled on him. “Are your injuries healed?”

Thor blinked, looking down at his chest. The deep gashes had already closed, leaving only faint, rapidly fading scars. “They’re healed.”

Mavuika nodded once. “That’s good.”

She turned and began walking toward the pier’s exit. “Let’s go. Home.”

Thor and Loki exchanged a look. Thor leaned in and whispered, “Is Big Sister angry?”

Loki considered it for a moment. “Probably not,” he murmured back. “Normally, if she’s angry, she lashes out on the spot.”

Thor swallowed hard at the thought. The two of them quickly fell in line behind her.

The three of them walked across the Brooklyn Bridge in a comfortable silence. The night wind blew off the river, carrying the distinct chill of early autumn. Below, the water glinted like hammered silver in the moonlight, and in the distance, the island of Manhattan was a galaxy of bright, glittering lights.

Thor carried Mjolnir, his steps so light he felt as if he were dancing. Although his wounds had healed, his clothes were still tattered and stained with blood, making him look rather disheveled.

But he didn’t care.

The hammer was back. He was Thor again.

After the matter with Kingpin and The Hand concluded, the streets of New York returned to their usual bustling rhythm. The shadows that had surged in the dark of night receded like mist dispersed by the morning sun, quietly retreating to the forgotten corners where they belonged.

Mavuika’s life, too, returned to a state of peace.

That evening, just as Mavuika arrived home, her phone rang. The screen displayed two words: Tony.

She picked up the call. Before she could even speak, Tony’s signature voice, tinged with a familiar brand of theatrical dissatisfaction, came crackling through the speaker.

“Mavuika, did you forget to tell me something?”

Mavuika set her bag on the sofa, her tone perfectly calm. “What thing?”

“What thing?” Tony’s voice rose an octave. “You were attacked! Kingpin! The Hand! Dozens of ninjas! And you actually didn’t tell me?”

Mavuika raised an eyebrow slightly. “How did you know?”

“How did I know?” Tony’s tone shifted, now holding a clear note of smugness. “Do you think Stark Industries’ security system is just for show? I can see the surveillance on every street in New York. I got the footage of you fighting in the street that night long ago.”