CHAPTER 59

From the very beginning, Ragna never believed that Thor and Jane Foster would last.

In fact, he doubted whether their so-called "love" was even real.

When Jane first met Thor, he was at the lowest point of his life.

Stripped of his divine power, cast out from Asgard, abandoned by Mjolnir, and deceived by Loki into believing his father was dead, Thor was a broken man.

A prince born into glory, adoration, and endless victories, he had never faced true hardship.

For centuries, Thor had been an unstoppable force on the battlefield.

Wielding Mjolnir, his combat prowess had soared to the equivalent of a Fourth-Tier powerhouse, his enemies mere stepping stones beneath his feet.

Kings of the Nine Realms knelt before Asgard's might.

Even when they resisted, their sources of power were ripped away, their bodies shattered, their armies crushed beneath Thor's hammer.

And so, Thor grew arrogant.

His recklessness became his defining trait—charging into battle without strategy, without fear, because in his mind, no one could ever defeat him.

Odin, however, knew better.

He had ruled long enough to understand the hidden dangers of the Nine Realms and beyond.

And as long as he lived, Asgard remained safe.

But if Odin were to die?

Thor—brash, reckless, and woefully unprepared—would doom Asgard to destruction.

Thus, Odin's trial began.

All Thor needed was to experience weakness.

To understand the weight of responsibility.

Even if he didn't fully comprehend these lessons, simply tasting the life of a mortal would be enough.

Because once he had suffered enough, Mjolnir would recognize his worth once more.

His divine power would be restored.

This was Odin's test.

But Thor never knew the truth.

So when he hit rock bottom, when despair clouded his once-mighty spirit, Jane appeared.

She cared for him, fed him, sheltered him.

Gave him warmth in his darkest hours.

At that moment, Thor was just another helpless man—a fallen prince stripped of everything he had ever known.

Like Stockholm syndrome or the drawbridge effect, he mistook gratitude for love.

In his desperation, he convinced himself that Jane was his salvation.

That he was meant to be with her.

He was even willing to abandon his throne, his people, his legacy—everything—for her.

But what Thor never understood was that Jane did not love him the way he thought she did.

Her feelings for him were fueled by curiosity—fascination with the mystery of his origins, his godlike physique, and his otherworldly presence.

Would she have fallen for him if he had been a normal human?

With no title, no education, no career prospects?

Would she have supported him for the rest of her life?

Curiosity fades.

Jane Foster was, at the end of the day, just a mortal.

And for Thor, regaining his godhood would only widen the gap between them.

Beyond the question of whether her human body could even handle the presence of a god, the true enemy was time.

Thor, an Asgardian, would live for millennia.

But Jane?

In ten, twenty, maybe thirty years, she would begin to wither.

Her skin would wrinkle.

Her body would weaken.

And while Jane aged, Thor—accustomed to the company of near-immortal goddesses—would remain unchanged.

Would he still love her when she was hunched with age, when her beauty faded, when she was a mere shadow of the woman he once admired?

Would Jane, fragile and mortal, truly feel comfortable standing beside him in a body destined to crumble?

The answer was clear.

Mortals and gods could never be together.

Unless the mortal became a god…

Or the god became a mortal.

Ragna , having lived centuries in Asgard, understood this far too well.

—

Valina, arms crossed, tapped her foot impatiently.

"So? Are we just going to stand here and watch him mope?"

Ragna smirked.

"I promised my mother I'd look after him. Not babysit him."

He glanced at the sky.

"Besides, once Loki gets a real taste of the universe, he won't be dumb enough to send the Destroyer. We have other matters to attend to."

With a flick of his fingers, Ragna placed a golden marker on Thor's soul—an anchor, in case of emergency.

Then, without another word, he vanished from New Mexico, heading toward his true destination.

—

Stark Mansion, Malibu

Inside Tony Stark's luxurious mansion, the billionaire genius had just defeated Whiplash and rekindled his romance with Pepper Potts.

Soft jazz played in the background as Tony and Pepper stood close, candlelight flickering between them.

Just as their lips were about to meet—

"Oh, my apologies."

A smooth, amused voice interrupted.

"I really didn't want to ruin the moment, but if you continue… well, I don't mind waiting. But I'm sure you would mind someone watching."

Ragna 's tone was polite, but his expression was completely indifferent.

He casually lounged on Tony's expensive Italian sofa, as if he owned the place.

A moment later, a small explosion outside the mansion signaled the destruction of a hidden surveillance camera.

It wasn't hard to guess.

S.H.I.E.L.D. had been watching.

"Who the hell are you?"

Tony, completely unfazed, stepped in front of Pepper protectively.

In a smooth motion, he activated his Mark VI armor, the pieces flying toward him.

"Relax."

Ragna 's golden eyes gleamed.

"If I wanted you dead, whether it's before or after you put on that suit, you'd have already died a thousand times."

Tony's eyes narrowed.

"J.A.R.V.I.S, scan them."

While J.A.R.V.I.S ran the search, Valina casually wandered over to Tony's private bar.

She plucked an expensive vintage bottle from the shelf and held it up.

"Hey, Tin Man. Mind if I have a drink?"

Tony, still analyzing the situation, didn't hesitate.

"Go ahead. It's just a bottle."

"Nice. Thanks for the generosity."

Without another word, Valina popped the cork and downed the entire bottle in one gulp.

Meanwhile, J.A.R.V.I.S's scan returned… nothing.

"Sir, the global network has no records of these individuals. It's as if they don't exist."

Tony's smirk faltered slightly.

"Now that's interesting."

Raising his left hand, he motioned for Pepper to leave.

With his right, he aimed a laser cannon directly at Ragna .

"Alright, mystery man. Who are you, and what do you want?"

Ragna chuckled, shaking his head.

"Relax. I'm just here to talk."

Then, with a simple blink of his golden eyes, a flash of divine fire enveloped Tony.

The Mark VI suit—one of Stark's most advanced creations—melted instantly, crumbling into liquid metal.

Yet, strangely, Tony remained completely unharmed.

The molten remains of his armor pooled at his feet, still glowing red-hot, yet radiating no heat at all.

A power that could control destruction down to the atom.

Tony stared at the mess of his ruined suit, then back at Ragna .

For the first time, a flicker of unease crossed his face.

"…Okay. You have my attention."

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