Chapter 181: The Forgotten One! Hero Surrenders!
In a world with a slight chill mist like that from a refrigerator.
“Um, there was a little accident. I guess I’ll have to trouble you to raise your dad back up again.”
This sentence was absolutely a bolt from the blue. As soon as Ian spoke, Thor’s pupils suddenly contracted, his golden eyebrows trembling violently. He slowly lowered his head and looked at the baby in the tent who was smacking his lips—Father of Gods Odin, ruler of the Nine Realms, now wrapped in swaddling clothes drooling.
Thor’s temples throbbed, his expression changing 568 times in one second—Ian was counting—and it was clear Thor’s mood swings were extremely intense.
“I——an——!!”
His roar shattered all remaining ice crystals within a hundred meters, blue lightning uncontrollably bursting from his body, blasting the remaining ice sculptures in the nearby ruins into powder. Thor charged at Ian like a mad bull, eyes red, Mjolnir flashing dangerous lightning in his hand.
“Don’t be like that… It’s not my fault. Loki went mad at the time; he’s the real culprit.”
“Think on the bright side: raising a girlfriend isn’t as good as raising your birth father. You can customize your birth father’s growth path… How isn’t this fate’s gift?”
Ian’s damage control naturally had no good effect.
He was well aware of this.
As a time management master.
Ian’s time management skills were always good, just like how his future Gaokao scores would also be good. He had actually resolved the threat from Loki a while ago.
However.
Ian didn’t save his teammate right away. After ensuring his teammates’ lives were fine, he timed it precisely, “hatching” the ice-sculpted Thor just before his own return.
This moment.
He was about to return.
No one could calm Thor’s roar.
“Give me back my wise! Elegant! Loving father!” Thor roared as he charged, eyes bloodshot, hammer raised high, bellowing that he would beat Ian back into a baby state too.
He was like a raging mad dog, muscles bulging, divine blood boiling, ice cracking under every step. But just as he was about to pounce on Ian.
The time management master’s precise timing took effect.
“Clang—”
A distant bell sound echoed in the heavens and earth that only Ian could hear.
Thor’s fist froze in mid-air.
Everything froze.
The wind stopped.
The smoke froze.
Even the spittle from Thor’s mouth hung in mid-air, crystal clear. Ian’s figure slowly faded in the last second, like sand art blown away by the wind, like a dreamscape awakened. His awkward expression froze on his face, his figure turning into specks of golden light, vanishing completely into the Marvel Universe with the bell sound.
However, this experience was only perceptible from Ian’s perspective. From Thor’s view, one second Ian was there, looking punchable like the culprit.
However.
The next second, Ian vanished into thin air, not even leaving a shadow. Thor lunged at nothing, his arms slamming into the air, inertia making him stumble a few steps before dropping to one knee, smashing a big pit.
Ian left.
This guy even had big and small packages of “trophies” in his arms before leaving.
Equipment swiped from Miss Stark’s fighter jet, Gungnir and the Frost Treasure Box—these two divine artifacts—even a Captain America shield fragment packed away who knows when.
“Remember to feed your dad milk every day… I’ll cover the milk powder costs, use the best milk powder.”
In the air.
Only Ian’s voice remained, whether from guilt or showing off. He waved his sleeve—not taking everything away; some things that couldn’t be taken from this world fell to the ground.
It was the bottle containing Loki’s soul, rolling twice on the ground. The bottle cap loosened, Loki’s soul climbing to the mouth but hesitating to crawl out.
He was just a weak soul now, after all.
Silent.
Dead silent.
The next instant—Thor was like a marmot.
“Aaaahhhhh—!!!”
A scream mixing marmot and a cat with its tail stepped on rang through heaven and earth! Thor’s eyes bloodshot, hair standing on end, his whole body red to the limit.
As if he would self-combust the next second.
This scene terrified Loki, fearing he’d be tortured madly by Thor if he crawled out. He could only stare at his own body nearby and gulp.
Some things.
Thor and others didn’t know, but Loki had witnessed it all. He saw that creepy guy, in soul state, yank his soul out of Odin’s regressed juvenile form body with his hands, then pull Odin’s dormant soul from his Frost Giant body and put it back into the infant body.
Not just the eerie soul-out-of-body method, this soul manipulation power exceeded Loki’s understanding, reminding him of his partner, Dark God Nar.
“Save me, save me, great Dark God.” Loki prayed endlessly in his heart but got no response. He could only watch Thor hopping mad outside.
For self-rescue.
Loki kept using his wisdom. Seeing Thor cursing Ian nonstop, his eyes darted, seeing a chance to exploit Thor.
“That guy really is a madman, ha.”
Loki started talking to Thor outside from the thermos, even though Thor didn’t want to engage the source of all evil, Loki kept cozying up.
“Listen, the struggle between our two nations is our business. When did outsiders get to interfere and mess everything up before running away?”
“Such a guy needs punishment, to pay the price. He ran, but the mess remains! The pain remains! Son of Odin, will you kneel and accept this? Unite! I’ll help you get revenge! You for Asgard, for father, and me for my race!”
“We, elders of the Nine Realms, must demand justice from that Evil God!” He spoke passionately, soul trembling, as if awakening some nonexistent brotherhood with Thor.
Thor’s roar stopped abruptly, slowly turning to look at the thermos.
Loki saw an opening and struck while the iron was hot: “Let’s team up! You, son of Odin, and me, Frost Giant King. Uh, former Frost Giant King.”
His voice got smaller.
Because Thor’s gaze was terrifying enough to freeze a soul.
“Team up?” Thor’s voice was eerily light. He slowly picked up the thermos, eye-level with Loki’s soul inside: “You just said… blaspheming Asgard’s dignity?”
“Yes! Yes!” Loki nodded frantically. “We can…”
Before he finished.
“Asgard’s dignity was blasphemed by you!”
Thor still knew right from wrong, remembering his father’s teachings, knowing who the real culprit behind all this was.
Thus, he recapped the bottle tightly, then chose a true “exile.”
“Bang!”
A standard Asgardian shot—Thor kicking the thermos like a meteor vanishing into the sky, dooming Loki forever in the Zombie Universe.
Faintly.
Loki’s fading screams could still be heard.
“Son of Odin, you’ll die a horrible death—”
Loki felt the world spinning, the thermos tracing a perfect parabola, precisely hitting a zombie head just crawling from the frozen soil.
The zombie’s rotten head burst like a watermelon, the bottle rolling aside “gurgle gurgle,” cap loosening slightly. The zombie’s mutilated body swayed, blankly groping to pick up the thermos. Its hollow eye sockets stared at the lively blue soul in the bottle, black mucus dripping from rotten lips.
This was the zombie’s most instinctual reaction: anything that looks edible goes in the mouth.
“Wait! You brainless idiot!” Loki’s soul frantically slapped the inner walls. “I’m the God Above Gods, greatest in the Nine Realms! If you dare—”
Before he finished.
The zombie’s nails already pried the bottle cap gap, oblivious to human language.
“No! Stop! My soul is poisonous! Deadly poison!” Loki’s voice trembled; he was truly panicking. “You’ll get diarrhea! For ten thousand years!”
He didn’t want to be digested and pooped out by a zombie. Loki tried threats and bewitchment, but the brainless zombie couldn’t understand his slick talk.
Lip service works only with a seductive enough tongue or shared language for communication.
The zombie didn’t stop, twisting the cap a quarter turn. Loki watched the rotten maw approach, even smelling the putrid throat stench.
“No! Don’t!” Loki now desperately missed his despised Frost Giant body—even Odin’s diapered infant body was better than zombie digestion and excretion!
“Help! Anyone! Save me—!!”
Loki was nearly scared soulless.
In panic, he shouted for help.
And just then, suddenly.
“Bang—!”
A gunshot shattered the dead silence. The bullet pierced the zombie’s temple precisely. The thermos fell from stiff fingers, bouncing twice on frozen soil, cap fully loosening.
The cobalt blue soul escaped like granted amnesty!
“Thank you! Savior!” Loki was thrilled, soul crawling out, voice full of gratitude. “I, Loki Laufeyson, Frost Giant King, exiled lord of the Nine Realms, owe you my life today! If you help me reclaim my body and return to Asgard, I’ll appoint you—”
Loki was about to play the “farmer and viper” classic, plotting to seize the savior’s body and kill back, but before finishing, another glass bottle dropped from the sky.
Precisely trapping the exiled lord Loki on the ground again!
“.”
Loki’s expression froze instantly.
The stubble-faced sorcerer squatted down, wiping the jar with the Cloak of the Sorcerer: “Let me see… a talking blue ghost? Magic Creature Atlas《 page 700 seems to have a record.”
He curiously studied Loki’s life form.
Seeing the other was a sorcerer.
Loki’s heart sank but he quickly put on a “I’m the victim” tragic face, wildly painting big pies: “Honored sorcerer! I’m Loki Laufeyson, destroyer of Asgard, lawful ruler of the Nine Realms! I was harmed by a self-proclaimed Evil God’s madman, reduced to this state.”
“He stole my body, imprisoned my soul, took my great cause. Now, I just beg you to lend a hand and help me find my stolen body.”
“If you help me reclaim my body and return to the divine throne, I’ll appoint you Grand Sorcerer of the Nine Realms, grant you infinite magic, control over time and space!” Loki spun a tale of being Nine Realms king betrayed by a villain, cursing the one who reduced him to this.
He spoke passionately.
Even “squeezing” soul tears from his eyes.
“Hm?”
The stubble-faced sorcerer found it more off with each word, expression turning weird, as if realizing something, excitedly trembling as he pulled a crumpled photo from the cloak.
“Is the villain Evil God you mentioned looking like this?” In the photo, Ian hugged a big-butted Spider-Man, both making scissor hands in front of the Sanctum Sanctorum.
Loki saw the photo and was overjoyed!
Wasn’t that the crazy youth with whom he had a body-seizing grudge?!
“Yes! That’s him! That bastard! He ruined everything! If you help me—” Loki thought the disheveled Doctor Strange also hated Ian.
However, just as he nodded frantically, his words were interrupted again.
“Aaaahhhh—!!!”
Doctor Strange suddenly burst into ecstatic screams, jumping in place, beard quivering: “I knew it! I knew he still remembers me! His follower!”
This moment.
Loki’s expression froze on his face.
“Ian God! It’s Ian God!” Doctor Strange hugged the jar, stubble face pressed against the glass distorting, “Where is he? I knew he wouldn’t abandon his earliest saint!”
Doctor Strange shook the jar wildly.
“Tell me! Did Ian God come to save me? To take me back to the main universe?” His emotions surged; yes, this sorcerer was the Sorcerer Supreme lost earliest in the black hole.
Doctor Strange.
From Loki’s words, he spotted clues pointing to the universe’s unique existence. Those operations only the Evil God he knew could pull off.
Facing Doctor Strange’s questions, Loki’s soul trembled, realizing something wrong, hard to respond. He grasped a very serious problem.
See.
Sure enough.
Doctor Strange was overjoyed, clearly a fanatic believer at first glance.
“Ian God! Ian God! Where are you! I’m little Strange! Your earliest follower! Your right-hand man! I brought you instant noodles! I wrote your flyers! You promised me the ‘Cult Level 10 Administrator’ badge—!” Doctor Strange teared up.
He held the photo high.
Shouting madly in all directions.
“Lord! Return! Your little Strange awaits you!”
“Oh! This must be the salvation mentioned in the Bible!”
“I knew he cared most about me, his follower!”
……
Devout Doctor Strange shouted, each word unanswered by Ian but striking Loki like lightning, realizing he’d met a crazy believer.
He reviewed his prior curses, soul shell trembling. Even without spellcasting for fortune telling or prophecy, this fallen exiled lord sensed doom.
No wonder people feel hyper-aware when sensing death; shivering Loki felt his perception sharpening.
He heard Thor’s breakdown shout from afar.
Yes.
Right now, the most breakdown wasn’t Loki, but Thor facing hand-raising his own dad. Elsewhere, Thor faced his millennium godly life’s biggest challenge.
He really didn’t know how to change baby Odin’s diaper.
But it was his old man after all.
Leaving his old man soaking in urine would be ultimate unfiliality; Thor felt his mother would curse him to death, so he gritted his teeth to fumble and learn.
See, the usually rugged man muttered it was no big deal, like draining oil-fried ingredients, hands shakily removing Odin’s pants.
He clutched a rag torn from somewhere, expression graver than facing a strong enemy, cautious as if afraid to bump his old man’s peeing tool.
Baby Odin lay on the blanket, bare legs kicking in the air, golden fetal hair glowing softly in sunlight, looking innocent.
Ignoring what Thor was doing, Thor would praise his old man as mighty from youth.
“Old man, don’t move, don’t move.”
Thor’s voice trembled.
“You’re Father of Gods… really don’t move!”
He never dared force-fix baby Odin’s kicking legs.
Facing Thor’s pua.
“Pff—”
A water jet face-washed Thor; baby Odin responded to his son with action.
“…”
Thor’s expression froze instantly.
Somewhat lifelessly taking the towel Gwen handed—before leaving, Ian had Gwen and others roasting by the fire; now auto-“hatched” ice-sculpted Captain America and ice-sculpted Gwen, after hearing Thor’s tale, had indescribable moods, still struggling to accept mythic Odin “urine-punishing” his son.
“So, this really is your old man?”
Gwen, whose info-processing was tempered many times by Ian, still couldn’t accept this reality’s absurdity.
Captain America stroked his chin thoughtfully, thought process normal: “If I make him cry now, can I claim to be the man who beat the King of Gods?”
As a soldier.
Of course with occasional competitive spirit.
“You dare!” Thor whipped around, glaring, rag with indescribables in hand. “By the name of the God of Thunder, if you touch one finger of my old man—I’ll rip off your fingers!”
His voice boomed.
Like thunder.
“Waa—!!”
Baby Odin suddenly wailed loudly, little face red. Thor panicked instantly, clumsily picking up the baby: “Old man! Old man, say something! What’s wrong? Hungry? Do you remember me? Why won’t you speak? Did that madman make you lose memory?”
The baby’s cries grew louder, tiny fists flailing, even trying to grab Thor’s beard to stuff in mouth. Clearly a hungry sign.
“Doomed,” Thor despaired, muttering, “My old man must be retarded now.”
“Don’t panic.” Gwen sighed, stepping up to check: “Baby vocal cords aren’t fully developed; even if capable, he can’t speak now.”
She had plenty biology knowledge, as a girl inheriting previous era’s memory.
“Is that so?”
Thor face fell, still doubting Gwen’s judgment: “But his eyes don’t recognize me… He even tried nursing on me with his mouth.”
Here, his eyes lit up, pitifully looking at Gwen: “Gwen, can you lend some milk for my dad? I’ll repay a hundredfold when we return?”
Clearly a question only a landlord’s fool son could ask.
“????”
Gwen was thunderstruck, face instantly flushing red.
“W-what nonsense are you saying!!” She truly thought Thor’s inhumanly rich tactics misplaced; was that borrowable? Clearly Ian the Evil God used Thor’s brain reserves for knowledge, infecting Thor with Ian’s mental illness thinking!
“Wouldn’t that make Gwen your dad’s wet nurse? What do you call her?” Captain America smirked, shoulders shaking, still fanning flames.
“…”
Thor now realized impropriety, but wrongly—not wanting Gwen as his old man’s wet nurse.
“Steve Rogers!!” Gwen was mortified, raising hand, ready web-slinging aimed at Captain America’s face, to make him truly faceless.
“I’m still a maiden! How could I have milk! You two are idiots!!” She stomped in genuine anger, deeming her two teammates top-tier morons.
“Ah?”
Captain America then seemed to grasp real biology.
His eyes blanked slightly.
Recovering, he grinned sheepishly.
“Learned something new; those transgender friends I knew before must’ve been special cases…” WWII veteran’s reemployment life experience was odd.
Gwen didn’t dare ask.
“Don’t cry, my old man, stop crying.”
Thor helplessly held the fussing baby, sweating profusely: “What to do… The books my dad made me study never covered raising babies.”
As everyone was at a loss—
“Crack.”
Another ice crack.
Everyone turned.
From Morgan Stark’s ice-sculpted fighter jet wreckage, a figure slowly emerged. Her armor intact, eyes clear—she’d awakened long ago, possibly… overheard everything. She silently went to the wreckage, rummaged, pulled out a Winnie the Pooh baby bottle steaming hot.
“Here.” The girl handed the baby bottle to Thor. “Hot.”
“Thanks, thank you. This isn’t your milk, right? You don’t seem lactating… Sorry, I’ve killed too many cows, always mix up humans and milk cows.” Thor took it like treasure, initially probing the milk source but changed upon Morgan’s speechless look.
He meant no harm; despite long human world life, the crown prince not yet in love didn’t grasp human mammals well.
Knowing he’d misspoke, he shut up, carefully stuffing into baby Odin’s mouth. The little guy stopped crying, smacking lips contentedly, face satisfied.
“It’s hot formula milk.” Captain America sniffed the milky air, dumbfounded at Morgan: “How do you have this stuff?”
He couldn’t fathom Morgan finding it in “someone”-looted armor wreckage unless she always carried milk powder or hot milk on trips.
Facing Captain America’s question, Morgan Stark didn’t conceal, even seeming natural: “I’m not adult yet, so I drink milk powder occasionally. Be glad Uncle Ian left before spotting this drink, or Uncle Thor’s old man wouldn’t have any.”
At this.
Morgan, oblivious to their weird looks, pulled diapers from armor storage: “Here, strawberry-scented.”
Thor took the diaper, looking at sated, yawning baby Odin, suddenly finding the world surreal.
“Morgan…” He hesitated, couldn’t resist asking, “Do you always carry this stuff?”
Morgan tilted head: “Uncle Ian said to prepare fully for journeys.” She pulled more from armor: “See, baby wet wipes, pacifier, fever meds.”
Scene awkwardly silent.
Gwen: “.”
Captain America: “.”
They eyed each other, unanimously concluding—this was definitely Ian-raised; not just knowing Ian, even biology was abnormal.
Perhaps what Ian taught?
So Morgan Stark found it normal?
“Doesn’t Tony have time to mind his own daughter? Even if Tony doesn’t, Tony’s wife should… Fine, Stark Industries is all on his wife.”
Gwen pondered.
Then seemed to get it: perhaps Morgan Stark’s closeness to Ian came from more time with Ian as a child than parents.
“So…” Gwen startled, eyes flickering at Morgan Stark, sensing something eerie behind her normal facade. After all, so close to an Evil God, how could she be normal?
Morgan Stark’s travel items showed oddities.
While Gwen grew curious about Morgan, Thor fed his old man milk, Captain America helped—Thor had just yanked the pacifier from baby Odin’s mouth.
Suddenly.
He heard glass-shattering crispness in the air. All alertly looked up; ten meters away, space peeled like broken mirror, an orange-yellow portal spinning open—more mechanical than Kamar-Taj portals, edges flickering electronic-like patterns.
“Finally here!” Captain America jumped excitedly. “Must be Doctor Strange’s portal.”
His eyes might be bad.
Twelve fully armed soldiers stepped out.
Not Doctor Strange.
Their black uniforms bore unfamiliar “TVA” badges. The leader was a plump Black woman holding a glowing tablet computer, sharp gaze sweeping everyone.
“B-15, confirm coordinates.”
She spoke into her earpiece.
“Seems like a standard timeline deviation.”
Her instrument locked on Thor, Gwen, Captain America, Odin.
“Anomalies confirmed.”
She spoke to who-knows-who.
Gwen’s Spider-Sense blared warnings; she instinctively battle-posed.
“Who are you?”
Gwen on high alert.
The Black woman didn’t even lift an eyelid.
“Dear, you don’t need to know who I am.”
She snapped fingers; all soldiers raised odd weapons. “You just need to know I represent the Time Variance Authority, arresting you for violating the Sacred Timeline.”
The woman raised her voice suddenly.
“Hands up!”
Like a command. Captain America’s tactics instantly analyzed three escapes—then rejected all. Their gear too alien to gauge.
“Ha! Damn bastards!” Thor’s annoyed laugh broke the tension. He one-handed baby Odin, Mjolnir spinning lightning in the other.
“I’ve had enough of you weirdos! This is the Nine Realms, Asgard’s domain!” Lightning wrapped him. “Not just any tomcat enforcing here!”
Like defending his nation’s rule.
“ID 7642, execute punishment protocol.”
The Black woman sighed suddenly.
Front soldiers raised fluorescent stick-like weapons.
“Zzz—”
Blue light flashed; Thor became a slow-motion movie character.
His angry roar stretched to comical low hum, hammer raise sloooow like taking a year. Baby Odin’s milk bubble floated, refracting rainbows.
“Now.”
The Black woman approached Gwen, finger teasingly lifting her chin.
“Anyone else wanna play hero?”
Her words smug with control; three hands shot up—Captain America, Gwen, even Morgan like obedient students.
“Wise choice.” She waved to soldiers. “Take anomaly A-113（Captain America）, A-114（Gwen）, A-115（Thor and attached infant）.”
As time shackles clicked on wrists, Captain America noticed oddity.
“Wait, what about that girl?”
He pointed at Morgan.
Morgan pointed at herself.
“Yeah, what about me?”
As if left out.
Tone resentful.
However.
The Black woman glanced at tablet, ignored Morgan and Captain America, leading her captured anomalies into the portal; all mystery soldiers vanished in the ruined city.
“Hey!”
Morgan rushed to grab the woman’s arm.
Failed.
“Why not take me?”
Portal closed before her.
The world.
Returned to empty silence.
