CH 89: The Mighty Tore
The sky above New Mexico began to change the moment Lex lifted Mjolnir.
Dark clouds gathered overhead, rolling across the previously clear sky with unnatural speed. The sunlight dimmed beneath their swelling mass, and the air grew heavy with the scent of rain and the sharp, metallic tang of electricity. Thunder rumbled in the distance, then again, louder this time, until the ground beneath Lex's feet seemed to vibrate with the sound. Lightning flashed between the clouds, illuminating the desert in brief, brilliant bursts, and the storm continued to grow as though the heavens themselves had awakened to acknowledge what had just happened.
Far away in Asgard, Odinia, the All-Mother, snapped open her eyes.
She had been resting when the sudden change reached her, but there was no mistaking the power now stirring across the Nine Realms. Her gaze sharpened, and the sleep vanished from her expression as she turned her attention toward Midgard. The ancient enchantment placed upon Mjolnir had recognized someone new, someone whom the hammer considered worthy. Odinia watched with a mixture of surprise and deep interest, her awareness reaching across the vast distance between Asgard and Earth as the storm gathered around its newly chosen wielder.
Down in New Mexico, Lex was experiencing the consequences firsthand.
The moment he had raised Mjolnir from the ground, something had awakened within him. It wasn't simply the weight of the hammer disappearing from his hand or the satisfaction of succeeding where Kara and Grayfia had failed. He could feel a new energy coursing through his body, a force that seemed to resonate with the storm overhead. Thunder and lightning were no longer distant natural phenomena. He could sense them, understand them, and reach out to them as naturally as he might move his own fingers.
Lex lifted Mjolnir toward the sky, and lightning answered.
A brilliant bolt tore through the clouds and struck him directly. Rather than burning or throwing him backward, it flowed into his body, bathing him in white-blue radiance before vanishing into the energy surrounding him. The thunder that followed shook the desert, sending dust spiralling across the ground, while Lex rose effortlessly into the air with the hammer held aloft. More lightning flashed around him, each strike seeming less like an attack and more like a greeting from a force that had finally found someone capable of understanding it.
He laughed, exhilarated by the sensation. There was something intoxicating about standing in the middle of a raging storm and feeling completely at home, with the wind whipping around him and lightning dancing at his fingertips. For a few moments, Lex was so absorbed in the experience of wielding Mjolnir that he nearly forgot about the people who had been guarding the site below.
Then he noticed a woman running toward him.
Even from high above the ground, he could make out her long blonde hair streaming behind her as she crossed the dusty terrain. She was gorgeous, almost unnaturally so, with the kind of striking appearance that might have made someone mistake a painting for a photograph if she had stood still long enough. Her athletic figure was equally impressive, and as she hurried toward him with an urgency that had nothing to do with the storm, Lex found his attention drifting toward her rather more than the situation warranted.
“Damn,” he muttered, lowering Mjolnir slightly as he watched her approach. “Didn't think Thor would have bonker-level bodonkadonkers.”
He briefly compared her to Grayfia, who was already an unfair standard by most reasonable measures, before deciding that this particular woman might actually win. The thought was interrupted when she reached the area beneath him and stopped, her chest rising and falling from the effort of running. She looked up at him, her expression a mixture of disbelief and outrage, and held out one hand as though she expected him to understand exactly what she wanted.
“Hey, you! Give me back my Mjolnir!”
Lex glanced at the hammer in his hand, then back at her. “Sure.”
He tossed it toward her.
The gesture was so casual that, for a split second, she seemed to believe he was genuinely returning it. She reached out and caught the handle—or tried to. The instant her fingers closed around it, the hammer's weight overwhelmed her, dragging her arm downward and pulling her off balance. She stumbled, failed to keep her footing, and landed awkwardly on the dusty ground, unable to stop Mjolnir from falling beside her.
For a moment, she remained crouched there, staring at the hammer as though it had personally betrayed her. Then she looked up at Lex, her face flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and anger.
“You...” she began, but the words died in her throat.
Her eyes moved from the hammer to Lex's face, searching for some explanation that would make the situation less absurd. She had spent her life wielding Mjolnir. It had answered her call, obeyed her commands, and stood beside her through countless battles. Even after her banishment and the enchantment that had stripped her of its power, she had never imagined that another person could simply pick it up and wield it as though it belonged to them.
“How...” Her voice faltered, and she swallowed before trying again. “How could you be worthy?”
Lex descended until his feet touched the ground, the storm still rolling overhead. He tilted his head, considering her question with an expression that suggested he was about to offer some profound wisdom, despite having absolutely no idea how Mjolnir's enchantment actually judged people.
“Shouldn't you focus more on why you aren't worthy?” he asked.
The question struck harder than he had intended. The woman stared at him, her mouth parting slightly before she looked away, unable to produce an immediate answer. Her anger didn't disappear, but something more painful surfaced beneath it, a wound that had clearly been troubling her long before Lex arrived.
She remained silent for nearly a minute. The storm rumbled above them, and a gust of wind swept loose strands of blonde hair across her face. When she finally looked up again, the anger had given way to a vulnerability that seemed almost uncomfortable for someone of her stature to reveal to a stranger.
“Do you know how I can become worthy again?” she asked quietly.
Lex stepped closer, studying her expression. He had a few guesses, most of them based on what SHIELD had learned about Thor in his original universe, but he couldn't claim to understand the enchantment or the precise conditions behind it. Still, the question seemed important enough that he didn't want to dismiss it with a joke.
“The answer to your question is within your own heart,” he said, pointing toward her chest.
His finger came dangerously close to poking her left breast, and he pulled it back before the gesture could become any more awkward. The woman looked down at his hand, then back at him, her expression caught somewhere between suspicion and confusion. Lex maintained his smile, hoping the appearance of confidence would compensate for the fact that he was essentially guessing.
After a moment, she straightened her back. Some of her former dignity returned, and she looked at him with a solemnity that contrasted sharply with the indignation she had displayed only moments earlier.
“Can you tell me your name, brave warrior?”
“Lex,” he replied with an easy smile.
She glanced toward Mjolnir, which lay motionless in the dirt between them. Then she lowered her gaze, and when she spoke again, her voice carried a weight that hadn't been there before.
“If the hammer acknowledges you more readily than it acknowledges me, then perhaps my mother sees you as a better person than I am.” She hesitated, visibly struggling with the admission. For someone who had once wielded the power of thunder, asking a stranger for help with something so fundamental to her identity was no small humiliation. Yet she didn't turn away or try to hide behind her pride. Instead, she took a breath, stepped forward, and bowed her head. “Please teach me. Teach me how to become worthy again.”
Lex considered the request.
Would helping her consume time he could spend on his own plans? Absolutely. Was there something to be gained from helping a powerful Asgardian regain her abilities? Plenty. More importantly, he was curious about the process itself. He had no idea whether Mjolnir's enchantment could be satisfied by a change in someone's character, whether the woman needed to confront something within herself, or whether there was some other condition he hadn't considered.
And, admittedly, it sounded fun.
There was also the question of Loki. If this woman was in the same position as Thor had been in the original timeline, then the events that eventually led to the Battle of New York might already be in motion. If Lex could help her regain her worthiness early, perhaps he could change the sequence of events before they reached that point. He didn't know whether that would prevent Loki's invasion or merely alter how it happened, but the possibility was worth exploring.
“Sure,” Lex said. “Let me help you.”
He opened the mental framework of his newly created Unique Skill, False World, and let Raphael take control of its application. The skill had been inspired by the Domain he had created during his training, drawing upon Creator and several other abilities Lex possessed. It was more than an ordinary illusion. False World constructed an experience so convincing that the target's senses, thoughts, and emotions accepted it as reality. Once someone truly accepted the world it presented, escaping became nearly impossible. Overcoming it required a will greater than Lex's infinite willpower, outside intervention, or the target becoming powerful enough to perceive the deception.
Lex had no intention of deciding what the woman needed to see himself. He barely knew her, and choosing some arbitrary trial based on incomplete information could easily miss the point. Raphael had far more information available to her, and she could tailor the illusion to the woman's memories, fears, and deepest attachments.
As the skill activated, the air around the woman shimmered.
For Lex, the change was almost imperceptible. The woman remained standing in front of him, the wind still moving through her hair and the storm still rumbling above them. Yet her expression changed so suddenly that his amusement faded. Her eyes widened, and her breath caught in her throat. She looked past him, staring at something that wasn't there, before taking a stumbling step backward as though the ground beneath her had ceased to be trustworthy.
Inside False World, the world was ending.
She stood in Asgard beneath a sky split by fire and darkness, watching the golden city she had spent her life protecting come apart around her. Towers crumbled, bridges fractured, and entire streets vanished beneath waves of destructive energy. The familiar golden light of the realm dimmed as if someone were slowly extinguishing the stars, leaving the city she loved drowning in a cold, colourless gloom. The sounds of battle echoed everywhere: the clash of weapons, the cries of the wounded, the screams of people calling for loved ones who would never answer.
At first, she tried to understand what was happening. She searched for the enemy, for the source of the destruction, for some threat she could confront with her own strength. But there was nothing she could strike, no opponent she could challenge, no single point where her power might make a difference. Wherever she turned, the devastation continued, indifferent to her presence.
Then she saw her people dying.
A group of Asgardians she recognized were caught beneath a collapsing structure, their hands reaching toward her as the stone crushed them. She ran to them, shouting for them to hold on, but when she reached the rubble, her hands passed through nothing she could move. The world refused to respond to her strength. She pulled, pushed, and screamed until her throat hurt, yet the people before her continued to disappear, one by one, their bodies dissolving into pale motes of light that drifted away before she could touch them.
She turned toward the palace, desperate to find her family, only to see the great halls falling apart. Her father was there, surrounded by the fading light of Asgard's ancient halls, his face stern even as the world collapsed around him. Her mother stood nearby, reaching toward her, but the distance between them stretched impossibly with every step Tora took. She ran faster, calling out to them, but the floor broke apart beneath her feet and the walls dissolved into darkness.
Then Loki appeared.
Her sister stood amid the ruins, her face twisted by a grief that Tora had never wanted to see there. For an instant, Tora thought she could reach her, that perhaps she could save at least one person before the world disappeared entirely. She lunged forward, reaching out with both hands, but Loki began to fade before she could close the distance. Tora called her name, begging her to stay, while Loki's expression shifted from sorrow to something she could not bear to interpret. Then she was gone, leaving nothing behind but the empty space where she had stood.
Tora's legs gave way.
She had fought monsters, armies, and creatures that threatened entire realms. She had faced danger with a confidence that sometimes bordered on arrogance, believing that strength and courage could overcome almost anything. Yet none of that mattered here. There was no enemy to defeat and no weapon she could raise. Her power could not protect the people she loved, and her desperate attempts to save them only forced her to watch as everything she knew was erased.
The destruction spread beyond Asgard. The Nine Realms vanished one after another, their skies, cities, forests, and oceans swallowed by the same relentless darkness. Places she had visited, people she had fought beside, and worlds she had once sworn to protect all disappeared before her eyes. She tried to remember what had happened, where the attack had begun, why she had failed to stop it, but the memories offered no answers. There was only the unbearable certainty that she was losing everything, and that she was powerless to prevent it.
She crawled across the fading ground, reaching for anything that remained, but even the stones beneath her hands dissolved into nothing. Her fingers curled around empty air. Her breathing became ragged, and tears blurred her vision as she desperately searched the ruins for a familiar face, a voice, anything that might prove she had not been left entirely alone.
Nothing answered.
Outside the illusion, Lex watched the woman sink to her knees. Her hands clawed at the dirt, grasping at nothing, while her face contorted with a grief so raw that it was difficult to reconcile with the defiant woman who had demanded her hammer back only minutes earlier. Her shoulders shook, and she struggled to draw breath, her lips moving around words Lex couldn't hear.
His expression slowly changed. He had expected the skill to challenge her, perhaps force her to confront her arrogance or reconsider what it meant to be worthy. He hadn't expected this. Whatever Raphael had chosen to show her, it was clearly reaching somewhere deep enough to leave her trembling on the ground.
“Do you really think this will work?” Lex asked quietly, keeping his eyes on the woman. “We barely know her. We don't know what she's been through or what she needs to hear.”
<Affirmative,> Raphael replied.
There was no hesitation in her response, but Lex remained uneasy. He trusted Raphael's analysis, and he understood that False World was powerful enough to create experiences that felt indistinguishable from reality. Still, watching someone suffer through an experience he couldn't see was different from reading about the skill's capabilities. He had given Raphael the freedom to choose the illusion because he believed she would know what to do, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he might be pushing the woman too far.
He considered ending the skill, then stopped himself. If Raphael was right, interrupting the process now might only leave the woman trapped in the same emotional state without allowing her to reach the realization she needed. For the moment, he could only watch and trust that the skill was doing what it was meant to do.
Within False World, Tora was alone.
She could no longer find her mother, her father, or her sister. The golden city had vanished, leaving only an endless expanse of darkness where even the stars were slowly going out. She tried to stand, but her legs trembled beneath her, and she fell back to her knees. Her hands pressed against the ground as she bowed her head, tears falling freely while she struggled to comprehend the loss.
She had failed.
The thought settled into her mind with terrible certainty. She had been powerful, confident, and certain of her place in the world, yet when everything had needed her most, she had been unable to save a single person. Her strength had meant nothing. Her pride had meant nothing. All the battles she had won, all the enemies she had defeated, all the times she had believed herself invincible had led to this moment, when she was left with nothing but the knowledge that she had not been enough.
Then a voice reached her through the darkness.
“Remember who you are.”
The words were not loud, yet they carried an authority that seemed to reach beyond the dying world around her. They rang through the emptiness with the weight of something ancient, feminine, and powerful, a voice that had watched kingdoms rise and fall and had never needed to shout to be heard.
“You are not Tora, Goddess of Hammers. You are Tora, Goddess of Thunder.”
The darkness trembled.
Tora lifted her head. Her tear-streaked face turned toward the sound, and for the first time since the destruction began, something other than despair stirred within her. She knew that voice. It was a voice she had heard throughout her life, one that had guided her, scolded her, and reminded her of the responsibilities that came with her power. Even when she could not see its owner, she knew who was speaking.
Her mother.
Outside False World, Lex's attention snapped upward. He had heard the voice too, though it hadn't come from the woman standing before him. It had pierced the illusion itself, reaching through the skill as though the boundaries of his created reality were no more than a thin veil. He immediately activated Rey Tracing, following the source of the interference across the vast distance separating Earth from Asgard.
For a brief instant, he saw her.
A tall, one-eyed woman stood within a grand chamber in Asgard, her gaze fixed upon the distant scene unfolding in New Mexico. There was no projection or imitation about her. Odinia was physically present in her own realm, awake and watching, her awareness focused on her daughter. Her face held the gravity of a mother witnessing someone she loved being pushed to the edge of despair, but beneath that concern lay an ancient, commanding presence that made the space around her seem almost insignificant.
Lex felt the weight of that presence even through Rey Tracing. It wasn't simply magical energy or raw power. It was the sensation of something ancient enough to have watched countless ages pass, a being whose authority came from more than the strength she could exert. For a moment, he had the uncomfortable impression that Odinia could see through the very skill he was using to observe her, and that she was aware of his attention.
Then his focus returned to Tora.
The woman's expression had changed. The grief remained, etched across her features and reflected in the tears still clinging to her cheeks, but it was no longer the only thing within her. She drew a trembling breath, then another, slowly lifting herself from the ground as her mother's words settled into her heart.
She was not merely the wielder of Mjolnir.
She was not defined by a hammer, nor by the enchantment that had denied her its power. She was the Goddess of Thunder, and the strength she had once wielded had never truly been the weapon's alone. Somewhere beneath her fear, beneath her guilt and the terrible certainty that she had failed everyone she loved, the truth remained.
She had not forgotten who she was.
She had only lost sight of it.
A low rumble emerged from within her body.
At first, it was barely audible beneath the storm raging over New Mexico. Then the sound deepened, rolling through the ground beneath her feet as a faint glow appeared along her arms. Thin threads of lightning flickered beneath her skin, illuminating her tear-streaked face in brief flashes of blue-white light. Tora looked down at her hands, her expression shifting from confusion to dawning recognition as the energy responded to her thoughts.
The rumble became a roar.
Thunder erupted from her body with such force that the ground shook and the air itself seemed to split apart. Lightning exploded outward from her in branching arcs, tearing through the darkness of False World and illuminating the ruins that had imprisoned her. The illusion fractured around her, its false sky breaking into countless shards of light as the power within Tora surged beyond the boundaries of the reality Lex had constructed.
For the first time since the illusion began, she was no longer merely reacting to what she saw. She was imposing herself upon it.
The darkness shattered.
Lex watched as the False World collapsed around Tora, its fragments dissolving into nothing beneath the thunderous force of her awakening. The woman who had been kneeling helplessly in the dirt was now standing upright, her long blonde hair whipping around her face as lightning coiled across her body. Her eyes shone with power, and the air around her vibrated with the deep, resonant sound of thunder. The storm overhead answered her, clouds twisting into a vast spiral as if the heavens themselves had recognized their goddess.
The ancient force Lex had sensed within Mjolnir stirred again, but this time it was no longer confined to the hammer. It had taken root within Tora herself, answering something that had been present all along but buried beneath her fear and despair. Her power did not depend entirely on the weapon in her hand. The hammer had been a symbol, a focus, and a companion, but the thunder belonged to her.
Mjolnir, lying where Lex had thrown it, began to vibrate.
The sound grew steadily louder, a deep metallic resonance that seemed to echo through the earth. Dust lifted around the hammer as it rose from the ground, hovering for a fraction of a second before shooting toward Tora in a streak of light. She turned toward it, her hand lifting almost instinctively, and the hammer settled into her grasp as though it had never belonged anywhere else.
The moment her fingers closed around the handle, lightning surged through the weapon and spread across her body. Thunder rolled overhead, answering the power that now flowed freely through her, while the wind swept outward in a sudden gust that sent dust spiralling across the desert. She stood tall beneath the darkened sky, the grief still visible in her eyes but no longer able to diminish the strength radiating from her.
Lex stared at her, momentarily forgetting every joke he had made about her appearance.
The woman before him was no longer simply someone who had failed to lift a hammer. She was the Goddess of Thunder in her full glory, standing beneath a storm that answered her call, with Mjolnir in her hand and lightning dancing around her like a living crown.