True Form Revealed

In a twist of pure chaos, the tide turned with nothing more than a few ordinary hammers. Ophelia stood there, frozen, her mind racing as she tried to process the sheer absurdity of what she was witnessing. Leila, watching from the sidelines, felt the same disbelief—it was like reality itself had shifted, and the entire back row could only stare, wondering if they'd somehow botched the start of the fight.

Just a minute ago, they had been in awe of the ancient being's raw power, half-believing that the young, fire-breathing girl darting through the air must be some impostor pretending to be an ancient. Then, out of nowhere, a man dropped from the sky, hammer in hand, and this so-called ancient—who had been toying with them moments earlier—was reduced to something about as threatening as a Chihuahua.

"Wait…are we seriously still in the same game?" someone muttered, bewildered.

Thor, as they called him—was never one to make a quiet entrance. Lightning was practically his calling card; a roll of thunder always announced his arrival before he even appeared. And then, he'd make his entrance—hammer raised, lightning crackling all around him, claiming every pair of eyes in the room. His presence alone was magnetic.

But despite his display, this version of Thor wasn't quite at his prime; this was Thor as he first appeared in the MCU, when even Odin, his father, still considered him the "God of the Hammer" rather than the God of Thunder. His power was tied entirely to Mjolnir. Without it, he was more vulnerable than he'd ever let on.

What really gave him the upper hand against Ophelia was something simpler: pure attribute advantage. Thor's powers aren't limited to lightning alone; his control over the weather allows him to summon anything from violent typhoons to sudden hailstorms. In myth, he's like a blend of thunder and lightning incarnate. And while he's not yet at his full strength, his divine essence still holds the weight of a god.

So, Ophelia's enchanted wind shield—typically a near-impenetrable defense—became her Achilles' heel in front of Thor. If she'd chosen a sturdier, less flashy defense, she might have had a fighting chance, but here she was, wide open.

The storm whipped around her, filling the air with a fierce, unnatural wind as she raised her arms to regain control. But Thor wasted no time; he pointed Mjolnir forward, dragging it with him as he tore through her whirlwind in a blur of gray, closing the distance in seconds. He reappeared right in front of her, his hammer lifted high, glowing with divine energy. He brought it down with a force that shook the air itself.

To everyone else, the hammer might have looked small and compact. But in Ophelia's eyes, it was colossal, magnified a thousand times, a dark-gray mountain that seemed to blot out the sky above her, bearing a single word in her mind, as heavy and inevitable as gravity itself—Die.

She managed to dodge, wrapping herself in a whirlwind just in time, the burst of force sending her tumbling backward. Even at her speed, she couldn't fully escape the impact. She lost control mid-air, crashing to the ground, and when the dust settled, everyone could see the cracks in the earth beneath her, spreading like fractured glass from the hammer's force.

Ophelia scrambled to her feet, but before she could react, a gray-black streak tore through the settling dust, heading straight for her like a coiled serpent ready to strike—Thor's hammer, flying back to him. Ophelia's image flickered, and Mjolnir phased through her like she was a hologram. The next moment, copies of Ophelia appeared in every direction, surrounding Thor in a phantom army, each one a fierce reflection of her, wind swirling as their hands rose in unison.

"Only one of them is real!" Felix shouted.

"I've got an energy scanner that can pinpoint her," Iron Man said. "Just need a second."

"My spider-sense might pick up on the real one if I focus," Spider-Man added, recalling his battle with Mysterio.

Thor waved them off, lifting his hammer with a cocky grin. "Thanks, but I've got this! The son of Odin doesn't need to play hide and seek!"

The air grew tense as Thor's presence intensified, lightning sparking above as the clouds darkened. Everyone saw the storm swell, the winds becoming ferocious, but Ophelia alone felt the change—a terrifying shift as her control over the wind slipped from her grasp, as if the storm was being wrestled from her hands.

Then, a blinding bolt of lightning cracked across the sky, bright and jagged like the maw of a dragon, illuminating the entire battlefield in harsh, electric light. No special effects could do justice to the scene unfolding before them.

Thor raised Mjolnir, drawing every streak of lightning down into its core, and then slammed it into the ground. The built-up energy erupted in every direction, a tidal wave of pure lightning that crashed into each copy of Ophelia at speeds beyond comprehension, shredding her illusions as fast as they appeared. The echoes of thunder rumbled through the ground, and the last of her phantoms blinked out of existence.

From the front row, members of the Ninth Special Service Division could only gape. Larry Wade, whose own power dealt with phantom control, was speechless as he watched. This wasn't even remotely in the same league as his abilities. Where Larry could manipulate electrical currents to create energy, this was something else entirely—a god calling down the very elements.

Leila took an instinctive step back, trying to process what she'd just witnessed. A shiver of relief washed over her; she had never been so grateful to have waved the white flag. If not, she would've been in Ophelia's place, facing down Thor and his hammer…she could almost feel her heart stop at the thought.

Thor raised his hammer again, floating up with purpose as he prepared to pursue Ophelia, when a massive crash sounded from the rubble across the field. Huge tentacles burst from the ruins, dark and slick as shadows, spreading across the battlefield as Ophelia, at last, revealed her true form.