Helen's flying pounce was no less powerful than a small missile—an enchanted missile capable of breaking magical defenses. Loki was slammed straight into the wall, and the sturdy materials of Stark Tower were instantly covered in cracks.
When Loki came down, he clutched his chest and coughed hard twice before dropping to one knee. He swallowed, staggered to his feet, picked Helen up, looked at her, and said, "Cough, cough... I'm not your mom..."
Helen stretched out both arms in a gesture asking to be held and said, "Daddy!"
"I'm not your dad either!" Loki said irritably.
But at that moment, Strange walked over and patted Loki on the shoulder. He looked at Helen's face, then at Loki's face, then back at Helen's face. He shook his head, clicked his tongue, and walked away.
Loki took a deep breath. Looking at Helena's face, which was also eighty percent similar to his own, he helplessly tried to put Helen down. But Helen suddenly darted into Loki's arms, clinging to him like an octopus and refusing to let go.
"Let go! I'm not... Let go of me! What kind of behavior is this?!" Loki tried to pull her down with all his strength, but Helen was no ordinary human little girl. Her strength was terrifying.
Relying on the fact that he was a god, Loki still held back a little when he grabbed her arm. But the moment he gripped it, he felt as though he had crashed into a wall of bronze and iron. That tiny, baby-fat-filled arm seemed welded to Loki's body, utterly unmoving.
Loki gritted his teeth and added a little more strength, but Helen still did not react. She simply stared at him with those sparkling eyes. When one hand proved useless, Loki used both hands to grab