Marvel's Strongest Mage

Thor was gone.

Daniel scoured the town until the edges of dusk, combing every home, every structure, every alleyway within ten kilometers of the crater—and still, not a trace of the Thunder God. Nothing in the hospitals. Nothing in the streets. Not even a residual spark of his divine aura.

The results were conclusive, but maddening.

He leaned against the hood of his truck, jaw clenched, eyes scanning the horizon as if the answer might bloom out of the dying light.

Something was wrong.

Mjolnir had landed here. Thor had been cast down. The signs were all aligning. So where was he?

Daniel's brows furrowed.

Thor was meant to meet Jane Foster. Across all variants, in every dimensional thread of the multiverse, they found each other. Even if the path diverged, the destination remained: Jane Foster would become the Goddess of Thunder.

So Daniel waited.

He kept watch from a distance, letting the desert swallow his presence, keeping his eye fixed on the direction Jane and her team had vanished toward.

They'd gone to Mjolnir. That much was certain. And though S.H.I.E.L.D. would confront them—possibly confiscate their data—nothing too severe would happen. Foster and Selvig were civilians. American citizens. S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn't overreach.

That was the plan.

And yet, the sun sank beyond the hills. The night rose. The air chilled.

They still hadn't returned.

Daniel's fingers drummed against the steering wheel. A bead of unease slid down his spine.

Had he miscalculated again?

He considered the ripple effects. The Marvel multiverse wasn't a single stream—it was a web of realities, constantly shifting, echoing, and overlapping.

He'd been here long enough to distort the balance.

His presence had bent the shape of fate.

Odin knew of him. Thor's exile might've been accelerated, altered, rewritten.

It was possible—no, likely—that the dominoes were falling in unpredictable ways now. That's the danger of being the anomaly in someone else's universe.

Still, if Thor had been sent to Earth, he had to be nearby.

And if he wasn't in town, then Jane and Selvig hadn't found him either… unless—

Unless S.H.I.E.L.D. had taken them.

That thought sharpened Daniel's senses. No more waiting.

He turned the key, revved the old truck, and sped back into the desert. Toward Mjolnir. Toward the storm.

But before he reached the perimeter—

The sky ignited.

A flare of fire screamed overhead, a trail of orange streaking through the stars, cutting through the clouds, arcing downward—

Toward the hammer.

Daniel hit the brakes hard, gravel scattering beneath the tires.

His eyes narrowed.

"…Stark."

Of course.

Tony Stark had arrived.

But why?

This wasn't his concern. There was no strategic reason for him to get involved so soon—unless someone had tipped him off.

Unless this wasn't about strategy, but intuition.

Daniel's jaw tightened. Stark had always been one step ahead of the obvious.

Without wasting another second, Daniel leapt from the truck, veering off the road and into the shadows. He didn't need to be seen. Not yet. Not until he knew what had changed.

His legs moved fast and silent over the hills, his cloak drawing moonlight into its folds and vanishing into the terrain.

The base loomed ahead.

S.H.I.E.L.D. had wasted no time. A temporary outpost had been erected around Mjolnir, spanning hundreds of meters in all directions. Rows of barbed wire gleamed under floodlights. Watchtowers lined the perimeter, manned by agents armed with binoculars and sniper rifles.

From the sky, it might've resembled a miniature galaxy. Prefab structures spiraled out from the center like arms of the Milky Way, all converging toward the epicenter: the hammer itself.

Daniel crouched on a ridge overlooking the base. His magic clung to the air like smoke, silent and untraceable.

This was no longer just a S.H.I.E.L.D. operation.

He could sense it. Stark was inside. And not alone.

Hawkeye Barton would be present too—Coulson's go-to man for overwatch. And if Thor himself appeared… well, add Coulson, Stark, Barton, and Thor together?

That's already half of the Avengers.

Daniel exhaled slowly.

He didn't linger.

Moving like a ghost, he infiltrated the camp with surgical precision. Avoiding patrols was child's play. Slipping past field sensors? Routine. And soon, he reached the roof of the central prefab structure.

He settled in, cloaked beneath the darkness, and peered down through the ventilation slats.

There they were.

Jane Foster.

Dr. Erik Selvig.

Daisy Lewis.

Tony Stark.

Phil Coulson.

All gathered around Mjolnir. All trying to understand it.

Inside, tension hung thick. Selvig adjusted his glasses, running scans, muttering to himself as he examined the ancient weapon. He didn't need to say much—his expression said enough.

"This is it," he said eventually, the words quiet but heavy. "It's… real."

Coulson turned to Stark, eyes questioning.

Stark tapped a holographic screen projected from his wrist, watching as Jarvis compiled visuals from myths and archives.

"Visual match is over 90%," Stark confirmed. "Nordic records, medieval engravings, even a few deep-web conspiracy photos match the design. I hate to say it, but this thing fits every description of Mjolnir."

He paused, then sighed. "And I did try to lift it. It didn't budge."

Coulson nodded grimly. "We've tried everything. It's fused to the ground."

"Then it's real," Stark muttered. "And if it's real, then the war is coming."

Daniel tensed on the roof.

He wasn't wrong.

Stark straightened. "We need to get this out of here. Fast. Before the world finds out."

Coulson's tone turned grave. "We've already locked down all digital chatter. Every post, every file—scrubbed. But containment won't last. This thing's presence is like a beacon. If someone's watching the right frequencies…"

"They're already on their way," Stark finished.

He looked toward the door.

"I don't care about rednecks with rifles or paranoid UFO hunters," he added. "But the ones who come for this? They'll be organized, well-funded, and ruthless. They'll come with tanks if they have to."

Coulson nodded slowly.

Stark continued, voice low. "Don't underestimate the mercenary world, Phil. You remember what Fury had to do to take back the Leviathan ship. If one of the big groups moves in, S.H.I.E.L.D. will be outgunned in an hour."

"I'm not planning on letting that happen," Coulson said. "We've grounded all aerial routes, started prepping for highway lockdowns. Every state trooper in New Mexico will be redirected to this zone by dawn."

Professor Selvig scoffed from the corner. "What, martial law over a hammer?"

"It's not just a hammer," Stark said coldly. "It's a symbol. A key. A weapon of legend."

"And there are people out there who want it. People like…" He trailed off, but the name hung unspoken in the room.

Daniel whispered it to himself.

Magneto.

The man had just escaped from a maximum-security prison. If anyone could manipulate the electromagnetic field enough to lift Mjolnir—or forge a weapon that could rival it—it was him.

Daniel's gaze darkened.

Even now, he felt Loki's shadow moving behind the scenes. The God of Mischief had orchestrated all of this—the Frost Giant incursion, Thor's exile, Odin's collapse into the Odinsleep.

And if Loki appeared here… if Thor returned to the hammer…

The chaos would begin.

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