Hercules

The man in the dust wore only a seemingly crude lion-skin loincloth around his waist, though mysterious magical enchantments invisible to mortals faintly flowed across its surface. Barefoot, with curly black hair cascading over his shoulders, he had a ruggedly handsome face and eyes as sharp as an eagle's. An innate, overwhelming majesty of one who looked down upon all living things rested upon his face.

His bronze skin gleamed with a metallic luster beneath the sunlight.

Only after the dust had fully dispersed did the Avengers atop the tower see his face—and discover with immense disappointment that the burly man who had appeared was not the fool they had been hoping for, the one who carried Mjolnir and always loved charging headfirst at enemies—ah, no, the wise Asgardian prince.

Thor.

That figure raised his head, revealing a rugged, wild face that nonetheless carried a strange sort of majesty.

His gaze was like two tangible searchlights. After swiftly sweeping the area, it pierced through the dust and the hundred-meter distance, locking precisely onto the top floor where Tony Stark and the others stood.

Despite the great distance between them, Tony Stark and the others still felt an indescribable, crushing pressure from that gaze, as though it had come from some primordial wilderness.

A question inevitably arose in everyone's minds: who exactly was this guy?

Time rewound two minutes.

The afternoon sunlight was shattered by the glass curtain walls of Manhattan's towering skyscrapers, scattering across the bustling streets below.

Yet this rare moment of peace was shattered by a terrifying boom that struck as suddenly as a meteor hitting the ground.

BOOM—!!!

The sturdy asphalt in the middle of the street exploded like a brittle cracker. A radial crater over five meters wide abruptly appeared, while shattered stones shot in every