Loki sat alone upon the cold, towering throne of Asgard, watching as Sif and the Warriors Three disappeared beyond the golden gates.
A strange feeling twisted in his chest. It wasn't just that those brave Asgardian warriors were leaving—it was as if something deeper, something vital, was slipping away from him.
His power.
His throne.
Loki's pupils narrowed. The faint murmurs of court whispers seemed to echo in his mind again—harsh words that refused to die.
Loki doesn't understand the hearts of men.
If Thor hadn't been exiled to Midgard, if Odin hadn't fallen into the Odinsleep, he would never have become king.
And worse…
If anyone were to discover that he wasn't Odin's true son—that he was, in fact, the child of Laufey, the king of the Frost Giants—then the entire realm of Asgard would erupt into chaos.
He couldn't let that happen.
No matter the cost.
Then came the whisper—a dark, serpentine voice curling in his mind like smoke.
Kill Thor, and no one will ever expose your lies.
As for Odin... if an "accident" were to occur during his sleep, who would be left to challenge your reign?
Then your title as "acting king" would be meaningless. You would be the true ruler. Forever.
And that sorcerer on Earth—the one who humiliated you, who nearly killed you—Senju Haruto... he too stands in your way.
Send the Destroyer.
Yes... the Destroyer.
The devil's whisper repeated itself again and again, each time clearer, colder, harder to ignore.
By the time Sif and her companions vanished through the palace doors, Loki's hands were trembling.
"NO!"
The word exploded from his throat. He leapt to his feet, glaring up at the vaulted ceiling of the empty hall.
"I don't want to kill anyone!"
Maybe he wasn't Odin's son. Maybe he wasn't truly Thor's brother. But those fifteen hundred years—those memories—were real.
Odin had protected him.
Thor had treated him like a brother, with open arms and unwavering faith.
And Frigga—his mother—had taught him how to weave illusions, not for deceit, but for understanding.
Those three had shaped his life.
He could never forget that.
There had been countless chances to kill Odin—yes. The mighty Allfather, ruler of the Nine Realms, feared across the cosmos, was completely defenseless when trapped in his Odinsleep.
A single strike—a dagger to the heart—would end him easily.
Loki could even make it look like the work of the Frost Giants. With his mastery of illusion, the deception would be flawless.
And if not by his own hand, there were many who would gladly do it for him.
Every realm held demons who longed to see Odin dead.
And Thor...
Thor was just a mortal now, banished to Midgard, stripped of power. Killing him would be effortless.
But even knowing Thor could threaten everything, Loki couldn't bring himself to do it.
His throat tightened. His hands clenched. He fought against the whispers gnawing at his mind.
"I am a god of Asgard," he rasped, shaking his head violently. "No demon's voice can corrupt me!"
He kept shaking, again and again, desperate to silence the voice.
But then—
"Is that really true?"
The unexpected voice froze him. His heart skipped.
There shouldn't have been anyone here. The palace guards were vigilant; no intruder could ever set foot inside.
Loki turned sharply toward the sound.
And his breath caught.
Standing there, illuminated by the golden light of the hall—was himself.
Another Loki.
The second Loki smirked, his smile dark and knowing, and began walking toward him. A brilliant golden glow flickered in his palm. When the light faded, a brand-new crown rested in his hand.
"You should know," the other Loki said, his tone smooth and mocking, "no demon could have slipped in here. I am no invader."
"I'm just another you. A truer, more honest version—one who doesn't deny what he wants."
He stepped closer. "Look at yourself."
As he spoke, his flesh began to peel away, layer by layer.
Within seconds, the illusion melted completely—revealing the twisted, icy-blue form of a Frost Giant.
Loki recoiled, his face pale.
"This... this is what you really are," the other Loki sneered. "Laufey's abandoned son."
"Odin didn't adopt you out of love. He did it to control the Frost Giants—to keep the Nine Realms weak and divided, so none could rise against him."
"Even now, with Thor exiled, you'll never be a true king."
"One day, Odin will awaken. And tell me—do you think he'll ever accept you then? Will he hand Asgard over to a Frost Giant?"
He burst into cruel laughter, holding his stomach as if he'd just heard the funniest joke in all the Nine Realms.
Tears streamed from his eyes as he laughed, his voice echoing in the vast hall.
Every word—every syllable—stabbed into Loki's heart like a blade.
"Enough!"
Loki roared, lunging forward. He drew his favorite dagger and plunged it straight into the doppelgänger's chest.
But the other Loki didn't flinch.
There was no blood, no pain—because there was no life to begin with.
His grin vanished. He reached out, seized Loki by the back of the head, and pulled him close until their foreheads touched.
"What will you do, brother?" the echo whispered coldly. "Kill me? Kill yourself?"
"Face it—you know I'm right. Stop lying to yourself."
"Maybe we are gods of trickery, but even we can't fool Odin forever."
"You were the one who let the Frost Giants into Asgard. That's the truth you can't erase."
"Kill Thor. End Odin. Only then will your power last. Weakness achieves nothing."
The voice pressed harder, each word a hammer striking his will.
"Enough!" Loki shouted again.
And suddenly—it was gone.
The hall was empty.
There had never been another Loki. He hadn't even stood up from the throne.
It had all been an illusion—born from his own fevered mind, fractured by exhaustion and pain.
Every word that "second Loki" had spoken... had been his own thoughts, buried deep within his heart.
He knew the truth.
If Sif and the Warriors Three found Thor, the lie about Odin's death would crumble.
And when that happened—so would his throne.
His jaw tightened.
"Activate... the Destroyer."
The command echoed through the golden halls of Asgard.
And somewhere deep within the palace, ancient mechanisms stirred.
The Destroyer—Asgard's most fearsome weapon—came to life.
...
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