I am Thor

"Ding! Congratulations to the host for completing the mission—Power and Glory. Reward unlocked: Resurrection!"

Thor kicked aside the body of an alien creature on the arena floor. After nearly five years, he had finally completed his 300-match winning streak.

Those years on Sakaar hadn't just been about the mission; he had honed his skills, mastered various fighting techniques, and transformed himself. His weight had returned from a hefty four hundred pounds down to a solid two hundred, drawing crowds eager to see his renewed strength and confidence.

With the official timeline about to begin, it was time to leave.

Thor had already informed the Grandmaster, and though they were both sad to part ways, they'd enjoyed a mutually beneficial relationship. Thanks to Thor's superstar status, the arena's profits had soared. The Grandmaster, for all his questionable morals, had been an amusing ally. After all, Thor wasn't exactly a saint himself.

Back at his quarters, Nebula was waiting eagerly. "So? When are we going back to Asgard?"

Having grown alongside Thor, Nebula had developed a lively spirit unburdened by mechanical implants or relentless programming. They'd been through countless battles together, their bond deepening over the years as they shared this strange, chaotic world.

Thor called out, "Heimdall, bring us home."

Years earlier, Odin had lifted Thor's exile, planning to bring him back after a little more "real-world experience." But even Odin hadn't expected Thor to embrace his journey so completely.

A brilliant flash of Bifrost light filled the sky, and Thor and Nebula vanished from Sakaar.

The Grandmaster watched the departure from afar, feeling a pang of nostalgia. Thor had been one of a kind. He couldn't help but wonder when he'd next find a champion as compelling and profitable.

"Finally, we're back!" Thor exclaimed, giving Heimdall a hearty hug.

As soon as they arrived, Sif and Maya Hansen rushed over to greet him—and nearly bumped into Nebula. Nebula, as the newcomer, maintained a respectful distance. Sif and Maya were well-versed in Asgard's culture, where strength and resilience were valued, and understood how relationships worked in this rough-and-tumble world. They had their own careers and independence, which made them all the more comfortable with Thor's return after five years away. If they'd been the clingy type, they would've fallen apart long ago.

Loki arrived shortly after, wearing a relaxed expression and that familiar smirk. "Brother, I didn't expect to see you alive! I thought you'd be dead by now…" He paused, eyeing Thor up and down. "Wow, I suddenly believe you've been on a five-year diet!"

Weakling, Thor thought, back to scheming every day, I see.

As they walked toward the palace, the atmosphere shifted, growing heavier. By the time they reached the palace gates, Frigga was waiting, worry etched on her face.

"When you go in, please… don't make your father angry," she warned gently. She remembered Odin's grave expression earlier. It was rare to see him like this. The last time he'd looked that way…

Thor nodded, understanding her unspoken concerns, and followed Frigga into the hall.

Once inside, Thor squinted, his eyes adjusting to the light. On the throne sat Odin, face severe, clad in golden armor, and holding the weapon that had accompanied him through millennia of war.

The legendary spear of eternity—Gungnir—was firmly in his grasp.

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