The name Odin still echoed in Daniel Zhou's thoughts.
He sat alone in his new villa, one hand wrapped around a porcelain teacup, the other clenched unconsciously at his side. The dark red wallpaper around him made the shadows feel heavier—like the weight of fate pressing in from all directions.
Tiny cracks spread across the teacup with a delicate, brittle sound.
Even someone like Daniel—who had survived in the void of Jotunheim, who had outplayed Heimdall himself—could not help but feel the unease clawing at the edge of his composure.
If his suspicions were correct, if Odin was behind all of this, then every move he made might already be accounted for. He'd already been placed on the board, just another piece in Odin's game of gods and monsters.
The only way to truly be free… was to wait for Ragnarök.
Wait for Odin to die.
But even that wasn't enough.
Odin, the All-Father, had cast shadows across the universe for millennia. Even while weakened and slipping in and out of the God Sleep, his mere presence was enough to keep beings like Thanos and Death at bay. His influence—on fate, on time, on prophecy—would linger long after his physical death.
Daniel would need more than patience.
He would need power. Real, terrifying power.
Only then could he cut the strings tethering him to Asgard's puppet master.
The cracks on the teacup spread wider, spiderwebbing under his fingertips.
Daniel slowly exhaled.
He had always resisted control—fought to carve out his own destiny. But the more he resisted, the more he realized how entangled he truly was.
Still, he wouldn't panic. He wouldn't flail. Not now.
Control couldn't be seized through brute force.
It had to be stolen in the shadows.
So, for now, he would let Odin believe he was dancing to his tune. He would hide his strength. Mask his intentions. Make them underestimate him.
And when the moment came—he would break free.
Odin's plans, if real, were predictable.
If the All-Father had placed Daniel in this timeline, it was likely for one of two purposes: either to aid Thor in his journey of growth... or to become the obstacle that tempered him. The whetstone for the future king.
Daniel snorted. If only it were that simple.
His identity alone made alliance impossible. The moment the Avengers learned who he was—what he was—they would never accept him. It didn't matter what good he did or how noble his intentions.
He wasn't human enough for them.
Even if he wanted to help Thor, he couldn't. Fate had already branded him the enemy. Odin had ensured that the path forward was paved with no options.
And the truth was cold: a whetstone is meant to be discarded once the blade is sharp enough.
So unless Daniel Zhou reached a level equal to Thor—or left Earth entirely—his fate was sealed.
He stared down into the cracked teacup. His reflection was fractured, broken into pieces by the porcelain's splintered lines.
I will not die a pawn.
The thought pulsed through him like a heartbeat.
There were still ways out.
The Infinity Stones.
The moment the thought crossed his mind, a dark kind of calm washed over him. The Stones were the only things that could elevate him above the plans of others. With even one of them, he could rewrite the rules.
And time was running short.
He knew the timeline. Thor would soon fall to Earth, exiled and stripped of power. Loki would follow—manipulating events from the shadows. And then the Chitauri invasion would erupt, signaling the beginning of the war for the Infinity Stones.
The game was already unfolding.
He needed to be ready.
But first, he needed allies. Resources. Position.
And right now, the best door into real Earth power wasn't the Avengers. It was the U.S. government—more specifically, General Thaddeus "Thunderbolt" Ross.
Despite the Hulk's unmatched power, there was a certain brutality to the way Ross operated. Men like Ross didn't care about moral lines or noble causes. They cared about results. And people like Daniel—people with dark pasts and uncertain loyalties—could be useful to men like Ross.
If he played this right, he could insert himself into the government's secret programs. Maybe even their failed attempts to create their own "enhanced" beings.
They were always searching for the next super soldier. He could give them one.
Or at least, the illusion of one.
The following morning, he returned to the campus of Imperial University, blending in with the stream of students pouring through the gate.
At first, it felt ordinary.
But then—something shifted.
The moment Daniel stepped onto the school grounds, a subtle force brushed against his senses. A psychic ripple. A field had been raised.
He was being pushed out.
Politely. Strategically. A fire drill here. A blocked hallway there. Security patrols directing students to leave.
They didn't want him here.
Which only confirmed what he suspected: Betty Ross and Bruce Banner had returned.
Daniel played along—on the surface.
He followed the crowd out, a quiet smile on his face.
But the moment he reached the outer fence, he vanished.
Invisibility.
Not the simple cloak-and-hide used by SHIELD agents or ninjas.
Daniel had mastered a higher form—deep optical refraction, light-bending distortion, and ambient camouflage woven with layered mental filters. It was leagues beyond most spellcasters.
Even Master Mordo would have had trouble detecting him.
Inside the university grounds, chaos loomed beneath the surface.
Tanks—actual tanks—had been deployed. Rolling across the green lawns of a campus known more for molecular biology and nanotech.
Heavy artillery. Sonic cannons. Gas deployment teams.
Daniel ghosted between soldiers, unseen, untouched.
They weren't here for him.
They were here for him—Bruce Banner.
At the center of the storm, Betty and Bruce exited the Biological Sciences building, holding files and materials in hand. Whatever secrets they'd uncovered—whatever data Betty had recovered—were clutched tight against her chest.
This was their lifeline. Their one chance to save Bruce.
But it was too late.
The soldiers closed in.
From the perimeter, the tanks locked on. The soldiers began evacuating students—but also tightening the circle around the pair.
Then, through the rows of troops, a familiar figure emerged.
General Ross.
Face like stone. Hair now more silver than gray. Cold eyes locked onto his daughter.
Betty froze.
Daniel, still hidden in the folds of light and space, watched quietly.
His eyes didn't go to Bruce Banner.
They went to General Ross.
So, this is how it begins…
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