Chapter 77: The All-Father Has Fallen, but the Fourth Generation Thunder God Has Long Been Ready

New book out! Naruto: Accidentally Ate a White Zetsu and Became One!

Show it some love with powerstones and reviews my brothas!

...

Loki suddenly felt as if his perspective had expanded.

Why must he cling to this wretched place—the World Tree—that had brought him nothing but pain? Why persist until death when all he needed to do was step beyond it to witness a vaster world?

Beyond lay countless powerful civilizations, beings as formidable as Dormammu.

Even Loki understood that, if one viewed the World Tree as a domain of power, it was still an incredibly formidable force in the grand scheme of the universe. With numerous All-Fathers presiding over it, such a grand lineup could only be matched by a handful of organizations, such as the Elders of the Universe.

"I don't agree! Loki, why would you have such thoughts? You are the King of Asgard, the leader of all Aesir! Since when has a God-King wandered the universe like a vagabond?!" Thor roared in anger.

"Keep your voice down. Just because they're locked in battle doesn't mean they can't deal with us. Who knows? They might hear our conversation."

Loki shook his head, a sly smirk curving his lips. "Besides, I am no God-King. I'm not even an All-Father."

For the King of the World Tree's foremost divine race to not even be at the All-Father level—such a thing was undeniably embarrassing if word got out.

At this rate, Loki had no confidence in keeping the World Tree under his control. At the very least, Duncan—who had emerged from Midgard—wouldn't bother dealing with him unless there was something to be gained.

Loki could already tell that their alliance this time was purely because Duncan was interested in the Frost Giant's physiology and even more so in Laufey, an All-Father.

One thing was certain: Duncan's greatest, most unfathomable ability was not any traditional power but rather the transfer of soul consciousness. This meant that as long as the xenomorphs nearby weren't completely exterminated, killing Duncan would be meaningless.

The only uncertainty was the range of this ability. Could it span a single planet? A star system? Or even an entire galaxy?

Frankly speaking, Loki prided himself on his vast knowledge. After over a thousand years of relentless study, he had accumulated an abundance of obscure knowledge, yet he had never encountered anyone quite like Duncan.

Even All-Fathers had their own specialized domains; none could be omnipotent, and that was normal. But Duncan's power remained uniquely bizarre.

With all his careful planning, Duncan was undoubtedly eager to experience the might of an All-Father firsthand. When the time came, he could simply transfer his soul into the xenomorph that would tear through Laufey's chest, Loki thought.

His mind was in chaos as he gazed into the distance, where blinding bursts of light erupted one after another, making it seem as if Jotunheim had suddenly gained countless suns. Meanwhile, he wielded Gungnir to shield himself from the battle's shockwaves, protecting the pitifully weak Thor.

"Thor, I just remembered something—about a thousand years ago, you defeated a dragon, didn't you? And that strange dragon fell to Midgard?"

Loki, still lost in thought about xenomorphs, Duncan, and soul transference, suddenly asked.

"Yes, that did happen. That black dragon was strange. It gave me an incredibly dangerous feeling, yet when I struck it, it collapsed immediately…" Thor vaguely recalled.

Throughout his millennium of battle, Thor had faced countless foes, but none had been as peculiar as that black dragon.

"I remember its skin and flesh were constantly writhing…"

Thor frowned in recollection. The dragon had exuded overwhelming strength—so much so that even its mere presence had sent a chill through him. And yet, it had crumpled after a single blow.

Loki's gaze drifted, his thoughts unreadable even to Thor.

"Thor, if the two of us join forces—plus Duncan's help—we can stabilize your throne. I know you and Duncan don't get along, but that's a minor issue. There's no deep, irreconcilable hatred between you two…" Thor rambled on, steering the conversation back to Loki's future.

Loki looked at his brother with an odd expression. It suddenly dawned on him—Thor had changed. The reckless brute who once charged into battle with a hammer and a war cry was fading away.

How amusing.How ironic.

"You're more suited to be a king than I am now. If I leave, everything will return to its rightful path."

"What nonsense are you spewing? I caused our father's death, lost my powers, and was deemed unworthy of Mjolnir—I am not fit to rule Asgard!"

"No, you are. And I believe our father thought so too," Loki said.

"Our father? What do you—wait… father…?"

Thor followed Loki's gaze—toward Duncan.

Then, with the descent of the Bifrost, a towering figure materialized in Jotunheim.

"Father? Is it really you? But you… No, Loki! Not now! You shouldn't be conjuring illusions to deceive me! We must stand together to face what's coming!"

Thor's voice trembled. He wanted to believe—but his rational mind told him not to.

"Thor, you have grown."

Odin seemed even older now, exuding an overwhelming sense of frailty. His first words made Thor's eyes widen, and they grew misty with emotion.

There was no doubt about it—this was his father, the All-Father, Odin.

But… how? His father wasn't dead? Then what had been happening all this time?

Thor suddenly turned his head sharply, his eyes widening in disbelief as he stared at Loki's impassive face. "Did you hide Father's existence? You deceived everyone! The entire Nine Realms—everyone in Yggdrasil—you fooled them all!"

"You really have grown. At least your mind is sharper than before. You figured out it was my doing, and not some grand conspiracy between Father and me."

Loki's lips curled slightly with mockery. He slowly raised Gungnir, then casually tossed it back to its rightful owner.

The movement was smooth, natural—almost as if he had rehearsed it countless times.

Perhaps, in Loki's mind, he had played out this scenario over and over again, mentally preparing himself for this exact moment.

Odin, with his lone remaining eye, gazed at his youngest son. A complicated, sorrowful expression flickered across his aged features.

"Why that expression, Father? That doesn't suit you at all." Loki's voice was light, almost casual. "Shouldn't you feel gratified by what you see? Thor has proven himself. He's not without potential—on the contrary, he's demonstrated extraordinary capability. He is now worthy of being Asgard's king."

Loki took two steps back, increasing the distance between himself and the two before him, as if acknowledging the insurmountable chasm that separated them.

"As for his lost powers—surely, Father, you have a way to restore them. After all, a true God of Thunder shouldn't rely solely on a hammer to be divine."

"You are clever, Loki," Odin said, his voice deep and hoarse, laden with a weight that made the air feel heavy. "You have made mistakes—just as Thor once did. But mistakes don't concern me. What concerns me is if you never learn from them, if you never realize where you must change."

Odin took a step forward. "Come back with me, Loki—return to Asgard with your brother."

"Go back? When things aren't over yet? Quitting halfway isn't a good habit, Father. You taught me that yourself." Loki stepped back again.

At that moment, only the Casket of Ancient Winters in his grasp provided him any solace, resonating with the power deep within him.

Thor was still struggling to process everything, but he was beginning to understand. What Loki meant by "unfinished" wasn't just the battle between Duncan and Laufey.

He was referring to his own fate.

"You orchestrated this war, created the opportunity to conquer Jotunheim… and you don't want to return to Asgard to receive the people's cheers? No matter what, you deserve that… my son."

Odin's exhaustion was evident in his voice.

But more than anything, he wanted to bring Loki home, rather than let him wander the universe aimlessly.

Odin knew how perilous the cosmos was. With Loki bearing the title of Odin's son, he would inevitably attract dangerous indiviDuncanls no matter where he went.

His power, his lineage—there would always be those who sought to exploit them.

"Those cheers belong to Thor, not me. I have my own path."

Loki gestured toward the heart of Jotunheim, where, even from this distance, the brutal clash of two towering figures could be sensed.

"Besides, this battlefield… is also Duncan's work. I've never seen anyone like him before. It made me realize—if I can never get what I want while staying in my predetermined role, then maybe it's time I step beyond my comfort zone and live for myself. Not for Asgard. Not for its throne."

"Then where will you go?"

Odin's voice no longer carried the absolute authority of a king. Instead, he sounded like an old man nearing the twilight of his days, his tone tinged with an unusual gentleness.

"I'll start with Midgard. There's something interesting I'd like to see. I doubt their Sorcerer Supreme would be too eager to kill me on sight." Loki smirked.

Odin let out a breath, relieved. "Midgard… I'll inform the Ancient One."

What Odin didn't know was that Loki never intended to stay within Yggdrasil for long.

He had grown weary of this so-called divine realm.

"When the battle is decided—when the outcome is clear—I will leave," Loki stated.

Odin's expression darkened. "Regardless of who wins, Laufey must die here. He did far too much while I slept. But more importantly—he tried to take my son. That is something I will never allow."

Loki's eyes flickered with emotion for a brief moment, but it quickly faded into silence.

The three of them watched as the battle unfolded, each lost in their own thoughts. But one thing was clear—Laufey was losing.

Without the Casket of Ancient Winters, Laufey was far from his peak. And with the grievous wound Loki had inflicted using Gungnir, his defeat was all but certain.

Sure enough, it wasn't long before Laufey's power waned, his movements growing sluggish. Bit by bit, Duncan pushed him back, constricting his space, forcing him into an inevitable defeat.

All of Jotunheim trembled in an earth-shattering quake. The very land cracked apart, massive fissures splitting the frozen world in two. It was as if the realm itself was mourning the inevitable fate of its king.

Boom!

Duncan swung Mjolnir in a mighty arc, slamming it into Laufey's shoulder. The Jotun king barely had time to react before Duncan's other fist came crashing into his face.

The sheer force of the blow sent shockwaves rippling outward—distorting reality itself, erasing everything within the immediate vicinity.

Laufey included.

With a thunderous crash, Laufey plummeted from the sky like a shattered comet, his body convulsing as he fell. His divine power, once formidable, was now utterly shattered by Duncan's relentless onslaught.

His towering form crashed into the icy wasteland, powerless to resist the inevitable.

"I will not end like this! I am the King of the Frost Giants, the future master of Yggdrasil! How could I lose to someone like you? If I hadn't lost my divine artifact and been betrayed by that treacherous son Loki, this wouldn't have been the outcome..."

Laufey refused to admit defeat. He furiously stood up, feeling his once-mighty body—akin to eternal ice—now showing signs of melting under Duncan's relentless assault.

Divine lightning struck his body, leaving charred marks on his skin.

The fact that the attacks could even leave traces was already a cause for concern—Laufey's decline was terrifyingly rapid. Dragging his heavy body into battle against the mighty Duncan had exhausted him beyond measure.

Otherwise, how could a being of his stature, a Father of the Gods, be so easily wounded by divine thunder?

Facing the youthful and vibrant Duncan, Laufey was inevitably being ushered toward his twilight.

It was the passing of the old king and the rise of the new.

"The reason is simple. Let me tell you—your era is over," Duncan declared, standing high above, looking down at Laufey.

To force Laufey into such dire straits had not been easy.

Even with careful preparation, Duncan had endured a grueling battle, shaking all of Jotunheim to its core before finally subduing Laufey.

If his goal had simply been to kill Laufey, it would have been much easier. But that was not Duncan's plan. He wanted to leave Laufey half-dead—alive, but broken.

Missing limbs wouldn't matter. As long as Laufey's head and torso remained intact, that was enough for Duncan.

The divine flesh of this god-king would serve as vital nourishment for Duncan's ascent to greater heights.

Laufey's face twisted in disbelief. Unwilling to accept defeat, he launched himself back into the sky, roaring as he clashed with Duncan once more.

Countless afterimages flickered across Jotunheim's sky, each one a remnant of their high-speed movements. But to the watching world, every afterimage of Laufey was battered and broken, suffering devastating blows from Duncan.

Laufey's struggle did not change reality—it only added more wounds to his already ravaged body.

The drain on his divine power was growing unbearable, pulling him ever closer to his end. The deafening tremors of Jotunheim marked the last echoes of an old god's downfall.

"The only thing you have left to offer this world is your dying screams, Lord Laufey… Accept the fate before you. The moment you moved against Asgard, I had already set my sights on you."

Duncan struck Laufey down once more, sending him crashing to the ground. Then, without hesitation, he descended as well, landing with both feet on Laufey's chest.

Raising his terrifyingly powerful fists, he delivered a relentless barrage of blows to Laufey's head.

The pummeling sent stars bursting before Laufey's eyes. The crushing weakness spreading through his body left him utterly drained.

For a moment, he was reminded of his battle against Odin all those years ago.

Yet even in that battle, though he was ultimately defeated, forced to flee, and stripped of the Casket of Ancient Winters, he had never fallen to such a miserable state.

The aging god-king opened his mouth, trying to speak, but in the end, all that escaped was a long, weary sigh.

Every inch of his body was covered in wounds, bearing the remnants of shattered divine energy.

Every cell in his being radiated agony so intense it could drive a mortal insane. Torn ligaments and rotting muscle stood as brutal testimony to his utter defeat.

"I must say, I am honored that you haven't begged for mercy," Duncan remarked, gazing down at the fallen king. "If it were Loki in your place, he would have used every trick in the book to plead for his life. Then, mustering whatever courage he could, he'd strike me when my guard was down—just to leave the smallest scratch on me."

Laufey let out a cold laugh. "You and Loki went through so much effort, planned every step so meticulously… If surrender could save me, that would be truly ridiculous. Or do you actually believe that your infantile xenomorphs could successfully parasitize me while I still have strength left? That they wouldn't just be crushed to death in an instant?"

"Of course not," Duncan replied. "I know exactly what the limits of the xenomorphs are. If they tried to infect someone of your caliber at the facehugger stage, their genetic material would be obliterated the moment they entered your body—crushed effortlessly by your divine flesh."

"So, you're a king with a clear head," Laufey sneered. "At least you won't foolishly lead your species into an abyss they can never escape. Xenomorphs only seem formidable because you placed them where they don't belong."

What Duncan understood, Laufey could also see—xenomorphs were, in the end, merely a species that preyed upon ordinary lifeforms, consuming their genetics.

Attempting to parasitize beings of immense power—those who possessed their own overwhelming life force—was doomed to fail. The moment of infection would also be the moment of death, with the xenomorph being annihilated at a cellular level.

Take Reynolds, for example. Duncan had first parasitized him, then administered the Super Soldier Serum, allowing the infection to succeed.

Had the order been reversed, failure would have been inevitable.

A facehugger would never have a chance to latch onto someone at the level of a Sentinel—not even close. It wouldn't be able to break through their golden energy shield.

"So, you already understand what I'm going to do to you," Duncan said. "I won't even allow you the luxury of taking your own life. I will strip you of any ability to resist. Your consciousness will be permanently drowned. You won't be able to control your own body. And if necessary, I will sever every nerve, cut every vein that carries your power—just to create the perfect environment for my xenomorph's incubation."

To use the body of a god-king as a nesting ground required meticulous preparation.

If executed correctly, Duncan would gain a xenomorph with the potential to reach the power of a Father of the Gods.

Laufey merely sneered. He knew full well that even if he destroyed his own soul, it would be meaningless.

Duncan didn't need him alive—just his body, intact enough to serve its purpose for a while.

Srrrip!

Harnessing divine power and stellar energy, Duncan methodically shattered Laufey's limbs.

Then, one by one, he began breaking every bone in his body.

It was nothing short of torture. And for a Father of the Gods, it was the ultimate humiliation.

Yet no one stepped forward to stop Duncan.

Every god and mortal who bore witness remained silent.

Humiliation or not, there was a higher law—one that all acknowledged:

The victor has the right to decide the fate of the defeated.

It was that simple.

"Odin, is this the outcome you wanted to see? In the end, you still won. You raised an exceptional son! If it weren't for him, I would never have lost so miserably!"

Laufey let out one final, unwilling roar, his voice echoing throughout the World Tree. The fall of a God-King resonated across its vast expanse.

Odin arrived shortly afterward, but he brought only Thor—Loki was nowhere to be found.

Duncan held the half-dead Laufey in one hand and turned to glance at Odin, the once strongest All-Father.

"It seems Loki has already made his choice. It may not necessarily be the right decision, but I imagine it still brings you some comfort." As he spoke, Duncan continued mercilessly torturing Laufey, ensuring that he was utterly crippled.

Duncan's expression remained unchanged at the sight of Odin.

Odin was silent for a moment before saying, "Every father hopes to raise the most outstanding heir. Even if that heir does not follow the path he envisioned, as long as they prove themselves in their own way, it is already an achievement worth recognizing."

"That's true. Every time I nurture a powerful member of my race, I feel the same way," Duncan nodded approvingly as he looked at the now utterly devastated Laufey.

Odin gripped Gungnir and pondered. This seemed to be his first time meeting Duncan, yet strangely, Duncan acted as if they were old acquaintances—like he had spoken to Odin many times before and had even known he was feigning death all along.

In the past, when Odin was still an arrogant and hot-tempered king, he would never have tolerated such a nonchalant attitude from Duncan.

But now things were different. Odin found Duncan's presence... not entirely unpleasant.

To be honest, he did not like the way the Xenomorphs evolved. The only reasons he tolerated them were his own weakening state and the fact that his time was running out. But more importantly, Duncan's actions had accelerated Thor's growth into a worthy successor.

Thor, the God of Thunder, was now more suited than ever to rule Asgard. His character had changed—his wisdom, his decisiveness, and his love and concern for his family had all developed in the right direction.

All of this greatly pleased Odin. He had never expected that Thor, after spending less than a year in Midgard, would mature so rapidly.

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Duncan had played a significant role in shaping Thor's transformation.

"I had prepared for the worst," Odin admitted. "I believed Thor and Loki would inevitably turn against each other, that one would have to completely destroy the other. But I didn't expect this outcome—the one fit to inherit the throne remained, while the one who wasn't let go of his obsession."

Duncan raised his head and glanced at the conflicted expression on Thor's face. He casually asked, "So, where did Loki go? Did you randomly cast him into some far corner of the universe? Just like how you once threw Thor to Earth?"

"No. I sent Loki to Earth as well," Odin replied calmly.

Duncan nodded, indifferent. So, Earth would now have another trickster god roaming about. If anything, the only concern was keeping an eye on Loki—he could become a real problem. But that problem would only last as long as Odin was alive.

Once Odin was gone, if Loki ever dared to interfere with Duncan, there would be no mercy.

And so, this extraordinary battle finally came to an end.

At the last moment, the reappearance of Odin, the God-King, and his proclamation of awakening undoubtedly added significant weight to the war's conclusion.

The death of one All-Father and the survival of another—these two revelations sent shockwaves throughout the World Tree.

"I see it clearly now. No matter how that Midgardian fought against Laufey, Laufey was always doomed to die in the end, wasn't he? Ultimately, he still had to face the might of Odin."

"When did Odin become so devious? Faking his death just to ambush Laufey? The strongest, proudest God-King actually resorted to pretending to be dead to deal with a rival?"

"This only proves one thing—Odin has grown incredibly weak. His time is nearly up."

From across vast distances, countless gazes pierced through space, observing every detail of Jotunheim.

Even after the battle ended, many indiviDuncanls from other worlds arrived at the war-ravaged realm, using various means to reach post-war Jotunheim. As they beheld the devastated landscape, they couldn't help but gasp in shock.

Jotunheim had always been an icy world, but at least its ecosystem had been stable. Now, however, chaos reigned. Rivers of magma burst through the cracked earth, vast chasms stretched deep into the unknown, and the once-everlasting blizzards had subsided, leaving behind ice layers that had accumulated for millions of years.

Countless native giants lay frozen solid.

If not for the Asgardians and Xenomorphs roaming the land, hastily shattering the ice to free the trapped giants, it wouldn't be long before every last one of them perished in the cold.

The destruction was staggering. The price Jotunheim paid for this war was immense—it was far more than just the loss of a God-King.

"After this battle, who knows how many years it will take for Jotunheim to recover? Even restoring its basic ecosystem could take an eternity."

Back in Asgard, Odin sighed and murmured, "What a loss..."

"This is war. Although I have experienced far fewer battles than you, I believe the essence remains the same."

Duncan felt no guilt over the devastation of Jotunheim—only a sense of inevitability.

If he had any emotional fluctuation at all, it was solely the joy and anticipation of capturing Laufey.

Jotunheim? Well, yes, it was indeed in a miserable state—but so what? At least the people of this world were still alive. At least the various giant clans had not been completely wiped out by Duncan. They merely had to endure periodic purges and captures by the alien army, nothing more.

At least they still existed, still lived on in Jotunheim. Offering their bodies as breeding grounds to their conquerors at regular intervals—wasn't that only natural?

If the roles were reversed, if Duncan had been defeated by Jotunheim, then every single alien, without exception, would be hunted down and captured by hordes of giants. It would be the same fate.

Besides, take Universe 199999 as an example. When Hela was freed, she slaughtered Asgardians until corpses littered the land, leaving only a few hundred survivors.

Then, with a single strike of his sword, Surtur, the King of Fire Giants, obliterated all of Asgard—the entire realm itself was wiped out.

And that was just in Universe 199999. In other universes, battles between All-Father-level beings led to even greater devastation.

So, the fact that Jotunheim still stood, intact and supported by Yggdrasil, was already a testament to Duncan's mercy.

"The defeated will never have rights. That is the most fundamental rule of the universe." Duncan's expression was cold and unyielding.

Thor remained silent for a long time before speaking in a low voice. "Loki has gone to Midgard. If possible, I hope you can lend him a hand when he faces difficulties."

Duncan looked at Thor in surprise. "Are you sure? You do realize that your brother was the one who went to Earth looking for trouble in the first place. He's always been restless, yet you want me to help him? If he gains enough power, he might even turn against me."

"Not 'against'—he wants to surpass you. He is determined to trample you underfoot." Thor's tone was solemn.

Duncan pondered this with great interest. Any ripple in the timeline, no matter how small, could eventually trigger an unforeseen storm.

From what Thor was saying, it seemed Loki's mindset had shifted.But why go to Earth?Did he intend to seek refuge with the Ancient One? Was he trying to follow the path of a Loki from some parallel universe and become the Sorcerer Supreme?

If that were the case, Duncan would simply laugh, finding the idea utterly amusing.

"Let's not dwell on Loki for now. He has chosen his own path. I believe we should focus on our own matters first."

Duncan idly toyed with Mjolnir in his hand. "First of all, I believe this hammer should permanently belong to me. I will find it a new wielder. You may call that person—the Fourth Thor."