The thought crept into Zenkichi's mind before he could stop it.
But that suspicion shattered in the very next moment.
Thor was standing there, glaring at the man before him.
"Why are you here!" Thor's voice thundered with barely contained rage.
"To see you, my brother," Loki replied with an almost lazy smile, as if this was a friendly reunion instead of a confrontation.
Thor's expression hardened. He knew exactly why Loki had come. The smile, the feigned warmth—none of it fooled him. Loki was here for one reason. To kill him.
"Can I kill him?" Thor suddenly turned his head toward Zenkichi.
"It's possible," Zenkichi said evenly, "but I'd rather not."
Thor frowned. "Why?" By all logic, Zenkichi should have agreed without hesitation.
"This guy still has his uses," Zenkichi replied, his tone calm but firm. "He can't die just yet."
Thor studied him for a moment, then gave a short nod. "Said the same thing," he murmured to himself, as if recalling someone else's advice.
It didn't matter. If Zenkichi intended to keep Loki alive, Thor would simply do what he thought necessary. They would see whose skills proved greater.
After all, Thor had been recovering well. His strength had returned, enough to ignite that old fire inside him.
He surged forward, swinging Mjolnir with brutal force. The hammer spun through the air, lightning crackling in its wake, before slamming toward Loki.
From the side, Ice King Laufey stepped forward, intending to intervene. He knew the truth: Thor and Loki together could be dangerous. But what didn't realize was that Thor's strength had plummeted compared to his former glory.
A deep, almost primal laugh rumbled nearby. The source was not Thor, nor Loki, but the green-skinned titan blocking Laufey's path.
Laufey froze. The monster before him wasn't simply strong—he was in full rage, and in that state, there was nothing human left to reason with. The Hulk was a storm made flesh, unstoppable and relentless.
And Laufey knew the truth: he couldn't win. Not now. Not ever.
"How… how is this possible?"
The words escaped Natasha Romanoff—the Black Widow—as she covered her mouth in shock. Her sharp eyes locked onto Thor's form, lightning dancing along his arms as he clashed with Loki.
"What's wrong?" Zenkichi asked, glancing at her.
"Thor… he's a god?" Natasha asked quickly, disbelief coloring her tone.
Zenkichi raised an eyebrow. "You didn't know?"
"I thought he was… well, I thought he was just a man. Maybe an alien with some kind of technology or unique physiology, but… a literal god?"
"What's so surprising about it?" Zenkichi replied. "Not only is he a god, he's an extraordinary one. If not for… certain setbacks, his strength would be far beyond what you're seeing now."
He held her gaze for a moment. "Is that a problem?" The source of this content ɪs 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵✦𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖✦𝙣𝙚𝙩
"I'm just… surprised," Natasha admitted, her voice low. "I thought we were all operating on the same level, more or less."
Zenkichi chuckled quietly. "You'll need to get used to surprises . There will be many more."
She frowned. "What do you mean by that?"
Zenkichi didn't answer directly. He simply smiled—calm, almost amused. There was no point in telling her the truth.
If he told her that the Avengers' future recruits would almost always be monsters in their own right—far beyond the limits of ordinary human capability—it would only shake her confidence.
And right now, Natasha's confidence was an asset.
In his mind, he thought: At best, she's a peak human. Maybe a super soldier at most. But against gods, titans, and legends…?
The sounds of the battle drew his attention back.
Thor swung again, lightning roaring across the shattered ground as Mjolnir met Loki's blade. Sparks and arcs of power erupted between them, blinding in their intensity. Loki grinned as if savoring every strike.
Hulk roared in the background, each step he took causing the earth to quake. Laufey tried to sidestep him, only to be grabbed and thrown aside like a ragdoll.
"I should go and help too," Zenkichi muttered.
His voice was calm. He took a step forward, each movement measured, almost deliberate. The battlefield ahead was chaos—thunder, fury, and madness all colliding in one place.
And he was walking straight into it.
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