Chapter 82: Even Gods Break When They Endure Too Much

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The moment anyone laid eyes on Foster, they instinctively froze. Their first thought was that Duncan had moved at an incredibly fast pace—personally, no less. But upon closer inspection, something seemed off.

"This guy doesn't look like Duncan… nor is he Thor! What's going on? Who is this person?"

"There's a rumor that during Duncan's battle in Jotunheim, his subordinate Reynolds also lifted Mjolnir and successfully defeated King Laufey. But… this guy doesn't look like Reynolds either…"

"Yes, although this person has long hair as well, their build is noticeably slimmer—not a muscular warrior."

Those who were familiar with Mjolnir's properties immediately felt a chill run down their spines.

Mjolnir was notoriously picky. Out of billions of people on Earth, could even one in a hundred million lift it? And yet, one after another, people kept appearing who could wield it.

At first, everyone thought Duncan had already pushed the limits of absurdity by transferring an Alien embryo between hosts, granting different people the same power. But now, even Mjolnir—this legendary divine weapon recorded in human history—was seemingly passing between new wielders?

When did Thor start multiplying? How many Thors had appeared already?

"Investigate! Find out who this person is! It seems to be a woman—confirm it! I need to know the true identity of this female Thor!"

"Actually, there's no need to investigate. We can be certain—this new female Thor is another one of Duncan's people. I saw her fly out of the Wieland Building."

"Just like how the Sentry once flew out to stop Magneto? Crashing straight through a skyscraper and heading directly for the battlefield?"

"So, if my eyes aren't deceiving me, Duncan has silently created yet another Thor? How does he do it? In his hands, divine beings seem to be mass-produced like factory goods, constantly appearing one after another!"

It didn't take long for people to piece together the situation, and the realization left them speechless. From Reynolds to Laufey, and now this female Thor—every time Duncan made a move, he shocked the majority while leaving a select few in utter disbelief.

From an ordinary person's perspective, whenever a major crisis arose, it was unclear whether Duncan acted out of justice or some other motive. But in practice, he was always at the front lines, tackling the root of the disaster at the earliest opportunity. To the common people, he was nothing short of a guardian deity. No wonder his popularity on the internet soared, and why the Aliens he controlled had such a massive following.

But from the viewpoint of certain individuals who harbored ulterior motives, Duncan's relentless maneuvers were overwhelming. Even though he quelled disasters, he left them facing a version of Duncan that grew stronger each time—along with his ever-expanding superhuman army.

"Every upheaval becomes an opportunity for Duncan, allowing him to grow even more powerful."

For those coveting Duncan's strength, this was a frustrating and infuriating reality.

And now, for example—look at this! Duncan had casually sent out a new Thor. In mere moments, she had crossed vast distances and slammed Mjolnir onto the head of the enormous black dragon.

Boom! Boom! Boom-boom!

Amidst crackling lightning and dark clouds, everyone watched as the female Thor wielded her hammer. Each time she raised it high, it seemed to summon the entire planet's electrical energy into that dazzling weapon—before bringing it down onto the dragon's skull with devastating force.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Each thunderous strike sent waves of agony coursing through the black dragon. It roared in pain, its massive body trembling violently as thick, dark matter peeled away from its form.

The onlookers reacted with shock, awe, or dread—depending on their allegiances.

But then came Loki. Emerging from the collapsed underground base, he barely had time to take in his surroundings before his eyes landed on the sight of Thor—a woman—mercilessly pummeling the dragon.

His mind shattered.

"Who is this woman?! Why is Mjolnir in her hands? No—more importantly, how is she even lifting it?!"

Loki had believed himself to be resilient, that nothing in the outside world could shake him too much. But seeing Mjolnir—the very symbol of divine worthiness—gripped effortlessly by an unknown woman, who then unleashed an overwhelming assault, was enough to make him snap.

His first instinct was to suspect that Duncan had once again transplanted the Alien embryo carrying Thor's bloodline—this time into this mysterious woman.

But after a moment's thought, that didn't seem right either.

Thor's bloodline alone wasn't enough to lift Mjolnir. One also needed a pure heart.

Thinking back, when Duncan first acquired Mjolnir, he could lift it. Later, during his battle against Laufey, he transferred the Alien embryo with Thor's bloodline into Reynolds, and then used an unknown method to transfer his own soul into Reynolds' body—allowing Reynolds to wield the hammer.

But now?

Loki carefully probed with his senses, using every method he knew, yet he couldn't detect even the slightest trace of Duncan's consciousness within this woman.

"Could it be… that she lifted Mjolnir on her own?"

A mortal from Midgard who, by her own merit, became a Thor?!

Loki's mind reeled at the idea. He himself couldn't even lift the hammer!

What unsettled him even more was the raw power she displayed.

Every swing and every strike of Mjolnir radiated thunderous divine energy—far surpassing the strength Thor had once commanded.

And this was only her first time wielding Mjolnir.

Loki had no doubt that given more time, once she fully unlocked the hammer's potential, her power would become even more terrifying.

Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.

Loki racked his brain but still couldn't figure out where Duncan had found someone like this.

By his count, this should be the fourth Thor.

"This woman is even stronger than Thor. A thousand years ago, Thor was able to defeat this dragon—so now, there's no doubt about it. She's going to win."

Though a trace of resentment welled up in Loki's heart, his rational mind told him that this battle was already over. The worst outcome? He would lose the symbiote, a species he considered to be on par with the Xenomorphs. That was a devastating blow.

This failure made his trip to Midgard seem utterly foolish.

Just as Loki and the others thought things were about to settle—just as it seemed the dragon would soon be defeated and imprisoned by the female Thor—

A deafening roar erupted.

The black dragon thrashed wildly, and in the next moment, an overwhelmingly terrifying psychic force burst forth from its body. It was far beyond anything it had displayed before—ancient, malevolent, frenzied, and seething with an uncontainable wrath. The sheer force of its will was corrosive, infectious, spreading outward like a storm and covering everything in its path.

Foster was caught in it immediately. There was no way to avoid it at this distance. Her once resolute expression flickered, momentarily dazed. In an instant, her mind was flooded with horrifying fragmented memories—

Fire. Screams. A pitch-black planet. Countless writhing symbiotes. A mysterious sword abandoned in an unknown sector of space.

Foster was at a complete loss.

She had never experienced anything like this before.

Just yesterday, she had been nothing more than an ordinary physicist.

And now, her mind was suddenly crammed with an overwhelming deluge of broken, cryptic visions. The sheer volume of information alone placed an unimaginable strain on her brain. Worse yet, buried within the memories was a highly infectious, virus-like will—a foreign consciousness trying to erode her own. She couldn't react in time.

Had it been anyone else, they would have been instantly crushed by the dragon's overwhelming psychic assault.

But Foster had an unyielding will.

A voice rang out in her mind.

"Foster, don't be afraid. I'm with you. You must always trust in your own heart. That thing is not at full power—it's far weaker than it appears. It cannot destroy you in an instant."

It was Duncan.

His presence steadied her, helping her withstand the dragon's assault.

As Foster listened to Duncan's voice, she also heard the chaotic, incomprehensible psychic murmurs coming from the dragon.

Her instincts told her one thing: it was cursing.

Maybe even ranting?

"This dragon is strange… its consciousness feels out of sync with its body."

Foster wasn't the only one who had noticed. Loki had the same question.

A thousand years ago, this exact black dragon had been crushed by Thor's hammer. So why was it so much stronger now?

And more importantly—this psychic attack…

Even Loki, who had seen his fair share of horrors, felt his skin crawl.

The sheer depth, the ancient, abyssal, and malevolent nature of this consciousness—

It was far too alien, too unnatural for any ordinary lifeform.

"There's something else going on here…"

Loki frowned.

"But if this dragon really does have a unique origin, and its will is this powerful, then how did it get defeated in the first place? Wait… I think I know."

His eyes lit up.

Moments ago, he had attacked the dragon using the Casket of Ancient Winters—a relic powerful enough to freeze entire worlds.

Yet the newly awakened dragon had shaken off the ice almost instantly.

But now?

Under Foster's relentless assault, drowning in divine lightning, its body was collapsing—massive chunks of black material breaking off.

"It's afraid of lightning?"

"No, not the divine power itself… it's the heat… or maybe even the sound?"

Loki was almost certain of it.

That's why Thor was able to beat it all those years ago.

Thor had unknowingly sealed this creature beneath Midgard, where it had slumbered for a thousand years.

And now, Loki had let it out.

"Duncan specifically sent this female Thor to deal with the black dragon… was that really just a coincidence?"

"Or did he already know—just like me—that this dragon had been defeated by Thor before?"

Loki found himself instinctively thinking from Duncan's perspective.

He had been beaten up by him too many times, to the point where he was now automatically copying his strategies.

But Duncan?

Duncan didn't care what Loki was thinking.

As long as the God of Mischief didn't actively cause trouble—or, worse, drag in some otherworldly horror—Duncan couldn't be bothered to deal with him.

At least… not while Odin was still alive.

Right now, Duncan's focus was entirely on the battle between the female Thor and the symbiote-infested black dragon.

He wasn't particularly shocked that this female Thor was able to suppress the dragon so easily.

Stronger than Thor. Faster than Thor. More ruthless than Thor.

She had been wielding Mjolnir for barely any time at all—yet already, she had brought the beast to its knees.

Duncan's eyes narrowed.

"So… Loki actually let this thing loose."

"Well… that worked out."

"If I were Loki, the moment I learned about this thing's existence, I'd also see if I could control the symbiote."

Duncan remained locked onto the battle, closely observing the black dragon's every move.

He was, almost certainly, the only person on this planet who knew the true origins of the black dragon.

Knull, the God of the Symbiotes.

Strictly speaking, the black dragon's body was essentially an enormous symbiote—one of Knull's creations.

And at this moment, its consciousness was primarily Knull's own soul, transferred into the creature.

A thousand years ago, Knull had shifted his consciousness into this black dragon and begun wandering aimlessly. However, he unwittingly ventured into the domain of Yggdrasil, where he was discovered and attacked by the ever-belligerent Thor.

Under normal circumstances, Knull feared no opponent. He was a god born in the primordial darkness of the universe's creation, having slumbered in the void until the Celestials, in their grand cosmic designs, began forging stars. Enraged by the light they brought, Knull tore a blade of living darkness from the void—a blade later known as the All-Black, the Necrosword—and used it to slay a Celestial.

From there, Knull continued refining the sword, ultimately creating the symbiote race.

However, during the forging process, the ever-present heat and relentless clanging noises inadvertently instilled an innate weakness in the symbiotes—they had little resistance to fire, extreme heat, and high-frequency sounds.

Knull in his prime—his body and soul united—was an entity capable of warring against gods themselves. But now, with his body and soul separated, he was far from his full strength.

Having temporarily abandoned his physical form, Knull chose the symbiote dragon as a vessel for his consciousness, roaming the universe. But in an unfortunate turn of events, he encountered Thor—perhaps the worst possible opponent, as the God of Thunder specialized in generating both high temperatures and deafening noise. A single strike from Mjolnir had incapacitated him on the spot.

"Judging by the timeline, at this point in history, Knull's physical body should still be imprisoned by the rebel symbiotes. His consciousness, trapped in this symbiote dragon, has now been bested by two generations of Thors. No wonder he's losing his mind."

Duncan observed the battle closely as the second round between the symbiote dragon and the new Thor commenced.

The violent power of the storm hammered down upon the dragon, clashing against the corrupted divinity that fueled it. The battle raged on, but over time, the tide was shifting.

Jane Foster, the new Thor, was practically a natural counter to the symbiotes. Even against a foe imbued with a god's will, she fought with precision and unyielding might.

The symbiote dragon—more accurately, Knull—was losing control.

As an ancient being who had risen to power by crushing Celestials beneath his heel, he could not accept this humiliating defeat—not on some insignificant world like Earth.

Yet, whether he accepted it or not was irrelevant. At present, he was merely a fragmented consciousness, with the vast majority of his strength locked away in his true body—a pulsating, writhing planet of symbiotes, sealed deep within the core of an unnamed world.

"This thing is strange..."

A flicker of doubt crossed Jane Foster's eyes. More than that—an instinctive wariness. As she continued her mental exchange with Duncan, she began piecing together exactly what she was up against.

With that realization, she fought even harder.

Jane's current mindset mirrored that of a young Thor in his earliest days—overwhelmed by the thrill of newfound power, each attack executed with boundless energy. Ordinarily, such relentless exertion would have exhausted her, but she quickly realized that deep within her, more power surged forth in an unending cycle.

The storm raged on, spreading across the sky. Thick clouds blanketed a significant portion of the Earth, transforming the region into a zone dominated by thunder and lightning—a no-go zone for the unprepared.

"Stark, what's the situation?" Captain America pressed a finger to his earpiece, shouting over the roar of the storm. The team members on the aircraft couldn't risk getting too close, fearing they'd be struck down by stray lightning bolts.

"You're asking me? Cap, you should use your own eyes for this. Also, if you and I can talk without interference, it already proves that I'm keeping a safe distance from the battlefield—far enough to avoid electromagnetic disruptions."

Tony Stark's retort was immediate and filled with his usual exasperation. Sometimes, he genuinely felt that his teammates were dragging him down. He was already on the Mark 12 suit, yet the rest of them were still at square one.

His growing disconnect from the team—born from his sheer superiority in combat effectiveness—was becoming a real problem, steadily chipping away at what little patience he had left.

"If I were you guys, I'd focus on improving my own strength instead of just standing around asking questions!" Tony snapped. "Cap, didn't you take the Super Soldier Serum? Then find a way to get more of it! You keep hiding in the back whenever we face supernatural enemies—maybe you should stop feeling so accomplished just because you beat up some low-level smugglers and drug dealers!"

Inside the aircraft, Captain America fell silent, deep in thought. Hawkeye and Black Widow, however, didn't take the words kindly. Meanwhile, Bruce Banner let out an amused chuckle.

"Once again, we're the clowns in this circus, huh?" Banner remarked. "Though honestly, I've always been the clown to you people."

"If you hate it so much, why did you even join the team?" Hawkeye shot him a cold glare.

"Ha! You think I wanted to join? You people hunted me down! Maybe I shouldn't have wasted my time with you. If I had sided with Duncan instead, would you still have dared to pressure me into joining? Would S.H.I.E.L.D. have had the guts to provoke someone like him?"

For a long time, Banner had believed that outlaws like Duncan were threats to peace—inevitable targets for elimination.

But now, he had changed his mind. Because once power and influence reached a certain threshold, new forms of order naturally emerged. With order, many problems simply ceased to exist.

"If I weren't worried that my gamma radiation would kill any symbiote that tried to bond with me, I'd have gone to him already! Unlike Abomination, I refuse to be reduced to a failed experiment!" Banner sneered.

Among the team, he was the only one radiating true hostility. His frustration built up as he spoke, until, inevitably, the transformation began.

"Oh, hell—why now? We're still on the plane!" Black Widow cursed. "Clint, you shouldn't have provoked him!"

Panic spread through the aircraft as the team scrambled for parachutes, bailing out before the Hulk could tear the plane apart.

Watching from afar, Nick Fury felt a deep sense of despair. He began to question whether assembling this team had been a mistake from the very start. They were nothing but a disorganized mess—falling apart before the enemy had even made a move.

"Stark, I haven't seen you make a single move. You're always so confident in your suit—how strong is the Mark 12, really?" Fury asked.

"Stronger than you can imagine. But forget about it—Duncan's people are already handling the fight. They're wiping the floor with that dragon. I'm not interested in picking up someone else's leftovers. This so-called 'superhero team' has already proven itself to be a joke. Don't pin that failure on me." Tony scoffed. "Besides, one of them is already coming for me."

As he finished speaking, Tony looked up—only to see the Hulk launching himself straight at him.

Mentally cursing, he immediately activated his thrusters, opening fire to keep the raging behemoth at bay.

Meanwhile, in a distant location, Charles Xavier observed the battle alongside Magneto.

"Stark's armor is impressive," Xavier mused with a smile. "Even you would have a hard time dealing with it."

Magneto nodded, then shook his head. "True, adamantium is difficult to manipulate. But difficult is not the same as impossible. His suit is still a machine—precision components, delicate wiring. I only need to sever a few key circuits to bring him down."

Although the two of them spoke in this manner, their eyes betrayed a strong sense of amazement. Tony's rate of progress was simply too fast. In such a short time, he had already advanced to the Mark 12 suit—and that was just the armor he had revealed.

Professor X and Magneto had every reason to believe that Tony must have a few specialized suits designed for different scenarios, such as an anti-magnetic armor.

Their suspicions were soon confirmed. At Tony's command, a massive suit of armor descended from outer space—clearly designed to counter the Hulk. The two titans clashed in a brutal battle in an uninhabited zone.

"This is probably the advantage of being a highly intelligent superhero—the longer the battle drags on, the more he can upgrade his technology, and the greater his accumulated advantage becomes," Professor X remarked.

"But no matter how great his advantage is, it's nothing compared to ours. We've already recruited so many powerful individuals into our mutant nation. Our total population has reached over seven thousand, and it will only continue to grow. Our country is developing in a promising direction."

Of course, among those seven thousand mutants, the vast majority were ordinary civilians with no combat experience.

Even so, Magneto's eyes showed rare anticipation. The world was indeed a dangerous place, full of bizarre and formidable threats—such as the strange black dragon that the female Thor was currently battling.

But that didn't matter. As long as they continued relocating all willing mutants to Krakoa, they would be safe.

"What about Duncan? What exactly are you planning?" Magneto suddenly asked. It was an extremely sensitive topic.

Professor X glanced at him and immediately initiated a telepathic exchange. They both understood that Duncan could be monitoring everything through his alien symbiote spawns.

"Duncan is growing stronger and stronger. We've watched him rise from an ordinary civilian to where he is today, and his subordinates are becoming increasingly powerful. To be frank, I believe some of them might even surpass Jean," Professor X's voice echoed in Magneto's mind.

Magneto remained silent. He thought of Reynolds, the female Thor, and the rumors circulating in the underworld—that Duncan had slain a Skyfather. Given Duncan's personality, the only reason he would go to such lengths was likely to acquire a Skyfather-class symbiote.

Add to that his minions, including Death Lady and the Abomination Symbiote...

Duncan had already become an undeniable force on this planet.

"Let's bring this topic to the council. Just like last time, we'll discuss it via telepathic communication among the council members," Magneto finally suggested.

Both of them knew exactly what the other was worried about. If Duncan's power grew to the point where he could ignore everything else on Earth, would he eventually set his sights on the mutant population to further expand his forces?

Against traditional human powers, Magneto and Professor X believed that their assembled mutant nation was strong enough to hold its own—at the very least, they could defend themselves.

But if the world suddenly had a force with overwhelming superiority, one that was highly aggressive and required large numbers of elite hosts... that was another matter entirely.

An unbalanced world was a terrifying prospect—just the thought of it was enough to make them uneasy.

"We should find Destiny and talk to her. She shouldn't remain on the sidelines, regardless of what kind of future she has foreseen."

When Duncan took action, no one doubted that he would ultimately claim victory. Even though he had merely sent out a previously unseen subordinate, the only real question was how he would achieve victory.

And that question was soon answered. The black dragon was incredibly powerful, yet it was being utterly overwhelmed by the female Thor. Its once-mighty form was gradually being chipped away with every mighty blow, shrinking and weakening with each strike.

Finally, under the gaze of countless onlookers, the black dragon let out a desperate roar.

One word.

"Grendel."

The female Thor hesitated. At such close range, she immediately noticed that the consciousness speaking now was somehow different from the one that had been controlling the dragon earlier.

Then, the dragon fled.

"Don't even think about running! This is my first battle as Thor!"

Foster's face lit up with excitement as she spun her hammer and took off in pursuit, striking at the dragon as she chased. To the onlookers, her relentless assault appeared utterly ruthless, making them suck in their breath at the sheer brutality.

The symbiote dragon didn't flee to some random location—it dove straight downward, back to the place where it had been freed. Without hesitation, it opened its massive maw and swallowed Loki whole before rapidly escaping into outer space.

To a god's consciousness, such an action was utterly disgraceful. If word got out, Knull's reputation among the divine would be ruined—being hunted down by mere mortals, far beneath his station.

"What's this guy thinking? Does he want revenge on me? Well, that's just perfect—I was worried that woman would beat you to death before I got my chance."

Loki sneered. Even as he was swallowed, and black tendrils of symbiote matter slithered toward him, he remained perfectly calm.

In fact, he was looking forward to this outcome.

Just as Loki was contemplating which magic to use to forcibly take control of the giant dragon and turn himself into a being with supreme control, akin to Duncan—

A consciousness, immensely oppressive yet minuscule in total mass, but vast and boundless in scale like the cosmos itself, suddenly detached from the black dragon's mind and appeared before Loki.

"@￥##%...!@#!"

This incomprehensible, overwhelming consciousness spoke to Loki in an urgent tone.

Of course, Loki didn't understand a word. It was the language of the gods—ancient beyond measure, a dialect that had existed since the dawn of the universe, almost like a direct articulation of the world's fundamental rules.

The consciousness grew increasingly agitated as it spoke, and eventually, in a fit of rage, it manipulated a massive amount of symbiotic matter, forcing it onto Loki's body. At the same time, the consciousness itself used the symbiote as a vessel to enter Loki.

"Damn it… I understand now. This thing is the true master of the symbiote hive, completely separate from the so-called Grendel symbiote dragon. This guy is just like Duncan—it can transfer its consciousness!"

Loki's expression darkened. He immediately tried to expel the symbiote from his body, but the next second, he froze, silently observing as the unknown entity took over his body. Almost instantly, it drained him, opening a rift in space.

A teleportation portal? Like the Bifrost?

Loki narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Any being capable of tearing through space in this manner had to be at least Skyfather-level. He clutched the Casket of Ancient Winters tightly, feeling the symbiote rapidly enhancing his strength. Yet, despite this, the mysterious consciousness made no further attempts to invade his soul—Loki suddenly realized something.

"You want my help? I don't know who you are, but you expect me to risk myself for a complete unknown? And what do I get in return? Don't give me nonsense about sparing my life—it's you who needs me right now, not the other way around."

Loki could feel his power surging at an astonishing rate, and deep in his eyes, a flicker of greed shone through.

Symbiotes were truly remarkable. Even for someone of his caliber, the enhancement was undeniable. Given time, he might grow even stronger.

And if he could control more symbiotes… perhaps even dominate this mysterious consciousness before him—what would that look like?

Even as he spoke, Loki carefully controlled his thoughts, lowering his head slightly in feigned submission. For the God of Lies, manipulating his own thoughts to give rise to believable deceptions was second nature.

Without hesitation, he stepped into the spatial rift.

This was undoubtedly the best portal this consciousness could muster with its remaining strength.

The moment Loki vanished into the portal, the symbiotic matter surrounding him trembled violently. The massive dragon let out an agonized wail as it plummeted from the sky.

It wasn't just the female Thor attacking now—several Xenomorph-like creatures joined the fray, ensuring that the dragon wouldn't escape into deep space.

"Hmm, so Loki's disappeared? Interesting… It seems that, when left with no other options, Knull has reluctantly chosen Loki as his avatar in the physical universe to secure his escape," Duncan mused as he observed from a distance, instantly grasping the situation.

To be honest, seeing a cosmic god like Knull—one who had existed since the dawn of creation—reduced to such desperation was almost unheard of.

Then again, Knull had no one to blame but himself. He insisted on recklessly transferring his consciousness into a symbiote dragon far weaker than his true form.

Not that it mattered. Knull had always been unhinged. Nothing he did could truly surprise Duncan.

Meanwhile, the female Thor poked at the fallen dragon—now half its original size—with her hammer.

"This thing is bizarre. I'm not even sure if it qualifies as a living creature in the conventional sense… No distinct internal organs, just writhing black mass all over. I can tear off a chunk, and it immediately becomes another symbiote?"

"Don't overthink it," Duncan said flatly. "No matter how complicated the problem is, as long as we keep moving forward, it will eventually become nothing more than a passing breeze. Now, Foster, bring Grendel back. I have use for it."

Foster obeyed without question. She grabbed the dragon by its tail, grimacing at the slimy texture. She could feel the symbiotic mass instinctively trying to slither up her arm, attempting to merge with her.

Sizzle!

A crackling bolt of lightning coursed through her, instantly scorching the symbiotic matter into submission.

...

[100 powerstones = 1 Bonus Chapter]

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