Chapter 236

There was a click as the lock turned; Thor opened the door to find Loki sitting at the bar counter, fiddling with his computer.

Hearing the door open, Loki looked up and saw Thor—disheveled, his long hair soaked through with sweat and plastered to the back of his head, his short-sleeved shirt drenched, his pants smeared with oil, and his soles caked in mud.

"Why are you only getting off work now?" Loki asked casually, but Thor didn't answer; Loki leaned forward to look at him and saw him walk straight into the bathroom, the shower turning on. Confused, Loki got up from his chair and walked to the door, where he saw Thor standing under the cold water, rinsing his hair.

Only after drenching himself like a soaked rat did Thor shake his head, then roughly towel-dry his hair before stepping out of the bathroom.

Loki crossed his arms and leaned against the wall opposite the bathroom. "Looks like you've taken another major hit—just like before. Whenever the battle drags on, you take a cold shower."

As Thor hung the towel back on the rack, he said: "You know Heimdall and the others came from Asgard, right? You'd better watch yourself—Sif's been wanting to beat you up for days."

"You forgot?" Loki dropped his arms and sat down on the sofa. "I'm a true god now. If she lays a hand on me, Heimdall will banish her."

Thor stood at the bathroom doorway, adjusting the towel rack, then leaned out to ask: "They say you've been sneaking into the Xiangong warehouse lately—and you've been tinkering with that big machine called the Destroyer. What are you up to?"

"Oh, I forgot to mention," Loki raised his voice. "While you were gone, the Allfather brought in a massive amount of energy. Everyone in Asgard gained a boost in divine power, and some even re-enchanted their weapons."

"The Allfather brought in too much energy—I don't have a proper weapon to store it all—so I figured I'd find somewhere to store it for later use. That Destroyer machine looks perfect…"

Thor fell silent. Loki was surprised—normally, whenever he mentioned divine power or weapons, Thor would snort like an angry bull.

But this time, Thor said nothing. He walked back to the bedroom, retrieved his wallet, came out again, and stared down at it as he spoke: "I don't know how to explain this, but the situation is this—I lost my job…"

Loki turned to look at him, scanning him up and down. "Not surprising. With your brain, it's strange you held any job this long."

"So can you order takeout tonight? I still want that fried chicken."

"Bad timing—I've got a client dinner tonight in Midtown. We're eating French food at some pretentious restaurant—you know, bland stuff, spending thousands of dollars on a meal. Of course, he's paying."

Thor still stood by the door, fiddling with his wallet. "Alright, but…"

Thor scratched his head, struggling to find words. "It's just… my rent this month might be… a bit late. But I'll find a new job soon. I…"

"Perfect. I never wanted to live with you anyway. If you can't pay rent and can't stay here, the Anquan Bureau won't care. Start packing your bags."

"Hey, don't be like that, Loki—I…" Thor walked over to the sofa, bracing his hands on the backrest. "We're brothers, aren't we? We fought side by side before…"

"Don't bring up fighting side by side. You're Asgard's bravest warrior." Loki picked up a glass from the coffee table, sipping as he spoke. "I'm just a mage hiding in the rear. When you charged forward, I couldn't even see your shadow—that's what you said yourself."

"I… but that was then. We're both on Earth now. There's no war here." Thor strained his mind. "When we return to Asgard, I'll repay you tenfold—divine power or money."

"Stop talking nonsense," Loki sneered. "Divine power? I've got so much I had to find another vessel to store it."

"Money? Your stipend over the last three centuries was squandered. Are you planning to borrow your future royal allowance from Heimdall? Or is the Allfather merely asleep, and you're already acting like Asgard's king, raiding the treasury?"

"I didn't!" Thor immediately denied it, scratching his temple. "Alright, if I've learned one thing on Earth, it's this: never waste money. I swear—I'll save my next quarter's stipend."

"You said the same thing last quarter. Frigga and I have grown calluses from hearing it."

"Enough." Loki cut Thor off. "If you've got money, order takeout. If you don't, starve. If you've got money, stay. If you don't, get out. Simple. Understood, Thor Odinson?"

Thor glared at him, teeth clenched. "Understood, Loki Odinson."

Not long after, Loki left with his computer. Thor sat on the sofa, sighed. He knew Loki meant every word—if he couldn't pay rent, Loki would use divine power to pack his bags and throw him out.

Over an hour later, in the Anquan Bureau cafeteria, Thor bit into a large burger, chewing as he spoke to Sif: "Loki's always been like this—spoiled since childhood. Frigga always sides with him. Last time he broke my chariot, I didn't even ask for compensation—and now he won't even order me takeout."

He swallowed hard, sighed. "I wonder when he'll ever grow up. When he first learned to walk, I actually liked him. Now he just gets more annoying."

"Do you really think his cruel behavior is just childish mischief?" Sif said, exasperated. "Thor—who's the one who needs to grow up?"

"Alright, alright, Sif. I know you two have a grudge. I already apologized for him—he shouldn't have cut your hair and turned your golden locks black. I swear, when I take the throne, I'll use the World Tree's power to restore it. Don't worry—I'll make sure…"

"That's not what I'm talking about." Sif's tone remained steady, as dignified and sacred as most Asgardian goddesses. "You must realize his increasingly cruel pranks may hide deep malice—not just sibling rivalry. I don't believe someone who, as a child, deliberately destroyed others' most cherished things, is as innocent as you think."

Thor took another bite of his burger. "But he's the youngest. Youngest sons always get privileges. Odin spoils him. Frigga always sides with him. And I… you know, I never liked tattling—he's my brother."

"He's always been frail. If I complained to Odin, he wouldn't beat Loki the way he beat me. If Odin actually hit him, Frigga would be heartbroken."

Sif sighed deeply. She realized Thor's thinking was completely out of sync with reality. "Can't you think like a crown prince? Have you never considered… the succession struggle?"

"Succession struggle? You mean Loki wants to challenge me for the throne? Even wage war? That's absurd."

"He doesn't want the throne. Do you think he actually wants to sit on that seat, drowning in endless paperwork, leading troops into battle, charging at the front, then attending banquets, listening to praise, receiving gifts, granting titles, and being lauded for valor? He hates that."

"He'd rather lock himself in his room and read idle books."

"Honestly, since childhood I've always thought he didn't seem like an Asgardian—he hates duels, despises swordplay, has zero interest in combat, lacks aggression, lacks honor. He'll never be Asgard's king."

"Then why does he keep pulling pranks, always trying to outdo Odin's favor for you?"

"Maybe he just wants to prove he's better than me." Thor gulped down a large sip of juice. "But that's normal. In any family with two brothers, they're always competing to prove they're stronger, that they're the favorite."

"Don't you have two older brothers?" Thor asked Sif. "Don't they compete?"

"Hmm…" Sif was momentarily stunned. She thought a moment. "Actually, yes. My eldest brother always dragged my second brother to the dueling arena, then bragged over dinner about how beautifully he chased his brother all over the field."

"See? That's normal. Have you ever wondered if you're your parents' favorite child?"

Sif snapped off a piece of biscuit and popped it in her mouth. "Of course I know I'm not. Otherwise, why would my parents send me into the army? How many goddesses in Asgard become Valkyries? Most become mages."

"When Loki turned my golden hair black, I was furious. But my parents didn't side with me—they said I was vain, that I cared too much about my appearance. That's why they…"

"Don't be upset, Sif." Thor comforted her. "I said I'd restore your hair when I take the throne. Maybe I can even convince Loki to apologize. I've noticed—he's been much more reasonable lately."

"More reasonable?" Sif stared at Thor. "You're sure? He won't even pay your rent or order you takeout—he threw you out…"

"Back in Asgard, if this happened, he'd have thrown me and my luggage straight into the sewer across the street."

Sif pressed her palm to her forehead. "Is your tolerance for him really that high? Have you ever thought about just punching him?"

The Age of Genes

Thor finished his last bite of burger, drained his juice, wiped his mouth. "I've thought about it—but I'm afraid to. He couldn't even take one of my punches before. If he gets hurt, Frigga will kill me."

"Honestly, Thor, I don't agree with Horgen and the other three coming down here to find you. That's exactly why I followed—to prevent them from causing chaos."

"But you know," Sif looked straight into Thor's eyes. "The succession struggle is win or die. They and their families have already clearly sided with you. They won't allow Loki any maneuvering—even if they themselves don't want to, their families will force them to watch you, watch Loki."

"Perhaps you've been away fighting for so long, you don't understand Asgard's current situation. But I can tell you—the atmosphere is growing tense. Because the Allfather… is truly growing old."