Thor's Rage

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Long ago, when Thor first grasped the accursed Necrosword, he was already a broken man. Battered and disgraced, he had watched helplessly as New Asgard fell once more—this time, not to an invading force or an enemy of the realms, but to his own brother, wielding that wretched blade. Loki, twisted by its darkness, had razed their home to the ground, leaving nothing but ruin in his wake. And when the dust settled, when the last ember of his brother's madness flickered out, Thor stood alone.

He could not destroy the blade. He had tried. He hurled it into the heart of a dying star, cast it into the depths of the cosmos, sought out the greatest sorcerers in all the realms—but nothing could unmake it. The sword lived, whispering, writhing in his grip, feeding on his grief. It would not leave him, and so, in the end, he made a choice: he would master it.

The battle was endless. The sword's voice slithered into his thoughts, a relentless, insidious whisper urging him to kill—to slaughter gods, to tear down everything he had ever known. It dug into his mind like claws of shadow, but Thor fought back. He endured. And, in time, he conquered it.

For a while, there was peace. The whispers faded to echoes, and Thor found happiness once more. He ruled over what remained of New Asgard, and by his side stood Lady Sif—his warrior, his love, his queen. And when she told him she was with child, for the first time in centuries, Thor dared to hope.

He imagined the life they would share, the son or daughter he would raise. He would teach them to wield a blade, to summon the storm, to be better than he had ever been. For the first time in too long, he dreamed.

Then the day of birth arrived.

As he waited, pacing outside the chamber, the sword spoke again. It had been silent for so long, and yet now, in this moment of joy, its voice curled into his mind like black smoke.

"Happiness? For a god? No. Not possible. NOT POSSIBLE."

Panic seized him. He stormed into the room, the air crackling with his fear. And there she lay. Sif, his love, his queen—lifeless.

The midwives whispered of complications, but he knew. He knew.

The sword laughed.

"THERE WERE NO COMPLICATIONS! SHE'S A GODDESS, REMEMBER? AHAHAHAHA! YOU ARE BOUND TO ME, THOR! ANY GOD WHO DRAWS CLOSE TO YOU… WILL DIE."

And in that moment, the last of Thor's world shattered.

But then—another sound.

A cry. A child's cry.

His gaze snapped to the nurse at the far side of the room, cradling a newborn wrapped in soft cloth. His daughter. His daughter.

He moved without thinking, reaching out with trembling hands, and when he held her—when he felt the warmth of her tiny body against his chest—the storm inside him quieted.

There was still one reason to fight. One last anchor to keep him from plunging into the abyss.

Tears blurred his vision as he turned to the nurse. "Thank you."

The woman lowered her head. "I only did my duty, my king. I… I am sorry. I could not save Lady Sif. I am ashamed. I could only save the child."

Thor shook his head. "No. This was not your fault. Tell me your name. You will be honored for this."

The woman lifted her chin, and for the first time, Thor saw her smile.

"My name is Amora, my king."

And on that day, as the God of Thunder cradled his last hope, the Enchantress whispered her way into his heart.

And so began the fall of the world.

...

A god should not feel despair.

A god should not know despair.

Yet, in that moment—when Thor saw what had become of his daughter—he did.

Torunn, his child, his light, had been reduced to a lifeless doll. Cold. Hollow. Nothing.

His hands trembled as he reached for her, but there was nothing to grasp. Nothing to hold. She was gone....as if she never existed... The weight of it crushed him, suffocating, drowning him in an abyss from which there was no escape.

His breath came ragged. His body felt wrong—as if something inside him had shattered beyond repair. The pain of losing his home, his father, his mother, his brother, his wife… none of it compared to this. This final, merciless blow.

"Oh? Did I not tell you?"

A voice slithered into his mind, cruel and mocking, dripping with amusement.

"Sif died because of me. Because you and I coexist. Because she was a god. And so was your daughter."

And then—laughter.

Dark. Twisted. Triumphant.

The Necrosword had won.

Something inside Thor snapped.

The sky split apart with a deafening boom as lightning erupted from Thor's body, a maelstrom of pure, uncontrollable rage. The ground cracked and shattered, arcs of electricity lashing out like the wrath of an angry god.

The force of it blasted everyone back—Valeria, Aiden, Amora—sent flying as the raw power of the Thunder God devastated the battlefield.

His eyes burned with fury, glowing like twin suns about to collapse. His voice, when it came, was a roar that shook the heavens.

"ALL OF YOU WILL DIE! LET IT ALL DIE! I WILL KILL EVERYTHING!"

His grip on sanity was gone. The Necrosword sang in his mind, feeding off his grief, his hatred, his need to destroy. He had nothing left. No reason to resist.

The god of thunder was no more.

Only the God of Death remained.

He moved with terrifying speed, lunging straight for Valeria, Mjolnir crackling with untamed lightning, ready to pulverize her into dust.

Then—

A streak of red and blue collided with him, stopping his charge mid-air. The impact sent out a shockwave, tearing through the battlefield like a hurricane.

A voice, firm and commanding, cut through the chaos.

"RUN, VALERIA! TAKE HIM AND GO! I'LL HOLD HIM BACK AS LONG AS I CAN!"

Captain Marvel.

Thor barely had time to register who stood before him before Carl's fist slammed into his jaw, sending him skidding back across the ruined ground.

The Thunder God stopped himself mid-slide, feet digging into the dirt. His gaze snapped to Carl—filled with something that was no longer human, no longer sane.

Carl's stance was firm, shoulders squared, his muscles tensed like coiled steel. Energy surged around him, his body burning with cosmic power.

He knew what was coming.

Thor charged, moving at a blur, faster than lightning itself. His hammer came down like Doom's judgment, aimed to crush Carl into oblivion.

Carl dodged by a hair's breadth, the ground exploding beneath where he once stood. He countered, driving a knee into Thor's ribs, then twisted, slamming an elbow into his spine, sending Thor crashing into the ground.

But Thor didn't stop.

Before Carl could follow up, a bolt of pure lightning erupted from the crater, engulfing him in white-hot agony.

Carl screamed as billions of volts tore through his body, but he powered through it, gritting his teeth as he blasted forward, tackling Thor with all his might. The force of their impact sent them barreling through mountains, each collision causing entire peaks to collapse.

Carl didn't hold back.

He unleashed everything, fists hammering into Thor like comets crashing into a dying star. Each blow cracked the air like sonic booms, shaking the very planet beneath them.

But Thor…

Thor was a force of nature.

Each hit he took only fueled him further. The madness in his eyes burned brighter.

Then—Mjolnir came.

The hammer slammed into Carl's ribs, the impact sending him hurtling across the sky, crashing through mountains, forests, entire cities. He barely had time to recover before Thor was on him again, appearing in a flash of lightning.

A brutal uppercut to the jaw sent Carl flying.

A savage backhand broke his nose.

A knee to the gut left him gasping for air, blood flying from his lips.

Thor caught him by the throat, his grip like an iron vice.

The god grinned—a twisted, nightmarish thing.

And then—

Mjolnir fell.

CRACK.

The hammer smashed through Carl's skull.

The battlefield went silent.

Carl Danvers—Captain Marvel—was dead.

And yet… he died smiling.

Because he had won.

He had bought them time.

...

Valeria lifted Aiden onto her shoulders and tried to escape, her armor barely holding together after the battles with Daken, Amora, and now Thor. The thrusters in her boots sputtered, damaged beyond proper function, forcing her to use them in short bursts to propel herself forward. Each movement sent sharp pain through her battered body, but she gritted her teeth and pushed on.

She landed deep within a nearby forest, stumbling as exhaustion overtook her. Aiden was barely conscious, his small body weak from everything that had transpired. Both of them were drained, beaten, on the verge of collapse.

Then—she emerged.

Stepping from the shadows of the trees, Amora approached, her green eyes gleaming with cold fury.

"You… You did this," she hissed, venom dripping from every word. "You turned him against me. You ruined everything! You made Thor hate me!"

Valeria, despite her injuries, raised her head, blood trickling down her face. She exhaled heavily and let out a breathless chuckle.

"Yeah… And I'd do it again."

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If you Like this story! Check out my other story ! Lord of Chaos In Dc!

AND

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You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want !