Meanwhile.
Countless light-years from Earth, in Asgard.
In the magnificent palace gardens, exotic flowers and plants vied for splendor, while sacred spring water burbled through a pool carved from white jade.
Bang!
An extravagant goblet made of pure gold slammed onto a white jade table, splashing rich Asgardian wine all over the ground.
"That ungrateful son! He's nothing but a brainless brute! Aside from swinging that damned hammer around and smashing people, does he have anything in his head besides frozen Frost Giant meat?!"
In the palace gardens of Asgard, unimaginably far from Earth.
Odin, Lord of the Nine Realms and All-Father, was slumped on his vast throne without a shred of kingly dignity. His beard bristled with fury, and his one remaining eye was filled with weary disappointment.
Seated opposite Odin was a wizened, scrawny elder.
She wore a plain, loose-fitting monk's robe in a dark color. Her long white hair hung loosely around her shoulders, and a long white beard trailed from her chin. She looked like a frail ascetic who might collapse in a stiff breeze.
Yet one glimpse of the Eye of Agamotto hanging at her chest, glowing an eerie green, would stop anyone in the Nine Realms from underestimating this withered elder.
Earth's Sorcerer Supreme, the Ancient One.
"Calm down, old friend. Young people are naturally hotheaded. Thor is the God of Thunder, after all. You can't expect him to spend every day waxing poetic about the wind and moon, can you?" The Ancient One calmly lifted a cup of black tea and took an unhurried sip.
"Hotheaded? He's brainless!" Odin slapped his thigh in anger.
"Today he started demanding troops to raze Jotunheim again! All because a few Frost Giants crossed the border and stole two sheep! Does he think war is a street