Chapter 83: A fallen prince

The battle between Thor and Lobo raged on, transcending the boundaries of the desert as their strikes launched each other across the planet.

With every hit, they were blasted into new environments—one moment they were in the snowy peaks of the Himalayas, the next, crashing through the dense jungles of the Amazon, only to end up fighting in the skies above cityscapes, then across the arid wastelands of a scorched desert.

In each location, their clashes caused earthquakes, storms, and destruction that rippled through the environment.

Thor fought valiantly, summoning lightning and thunder from the heavens in a constant barrage, his strikes growing more desperate as he realised the sheer durability of his opponent.

Lobo's seemingly infinite stamina allowed him to brush off what should have been devastating blows.

No matter how much power Thor unleashed, Lobo always came back for more, grinning like a madman as he took every strike with a cackle.

In the jungles of the Amazon, Thor sent a hurricane-force strike into Lobo's chest, sending him flying through the thick trees. But before Thor could catch his breath, Lobo came crashing back through the treetops, hurling his hook and chain at the Asgardian, dragging him through the forest floor with brute strength.

In retaliation, Thor summoned a storm so fierce it tore the jungle apart, creating a maelstrom of wind and lightning.

Yet, it became clear that no matter how hard Thor hit, no matter the intensity of the storm he summoned, Lobo didn't slow down. His regeneration was beyond anything Thor had faced before.

It was like fighting an indestructible force.

Each strike Thor landed was answered by Lobo tenfold—laughing, mocking, and dishing out punishment with unrelenting ferocity.

Eventually, the battle took them to a desolate tundra in the far north. The ice cracked and split beneath their feet, and the cold winds howled as Thor struggled to hold his ground.

Lobo, on the other hand, showed no signs of fatigue, his resilience to the cold and environmental destruction only proving how outmatched Thor was.

Thor swung Mjolnir with everything he had, but Lobo caught it mid-flight again, throwing the God of Thunder aside like a ragdoll.

The tides had shifted completely. Thor, panting and bleeding from numerous wounds, stood bruised and beaten. His strength was waning, and his attacks—though mighty—were no match for Lobo's overwhelming endurance.

With one final clash, Lobo slammed Thor into the ground, creating a massive crater in the ice. The earth trembled beneath the sheer impact.

Thor gasped for air, trying to rise, but his body could no longer respond. The pain coursing through his body was too much. Lobo towered over him, grinning.

"That's it? That's all the God of Thunder's got? Pity, I expected more."

He bent down and grabbed Mjolnir, yanking it from Thor's grasp. The hammer, heavy in his hand, seemed to resist, but Lobo's strength was too much for it to pull away.

He swung it casually over his shoulder, admiring his new prize. "Nice hammer," he sneered.

"I think I'll keep it."

Thor groaned in protest, trying to reach for Mjolnir, but Lobo kicked him back down into the ice. "Stay down, blondie. You put up a good fight, but it's time for the big boys to play now."

Lobo stood victorious, shaking his head as if to mock the effort Thor had put into the fight. With a last glance at the defeated Asgardian, he spat on the ground. "I'm not even gonna kill you, Sparkles. I've got bigger fish to fry."

He looked up to the horizon, where he could feel the powerful source of energy drawing him in—the one he was sent to find.

"Time to collect on my real bounty."

With Mjolnir slung over his shoulder like a trophy, Lobo hopped back onto his spacehog and revved the engine. The bike roared to life, and without another word, he sped off, leaving Thor lying in the frozen wasteland, broken and grounded.

As Lobo tore through the skies on his spacehog, he couldn't help but grin. The fight had been fun, but it hadn't been enough to satisfy his thirst for chaos.

He craved more destruction, and the powerful energy source he was heading toward promised just that.

Behind him, Thor lay unconscious, defeated. The skies above darkened, and the distant rumble of thunder echoed across the landscape as the once-mighty God of Thunder was left in the aftermath of a battle that had proven too much for even him.

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In the grand halls of Asgard, Heimdall stood vigilant as ever, his eyes focused on the vast reaches of the universe through the Bifröst. His gaze fixed on Midgard—Earth—and the fierce battle between Prince Thor and the ruthless bounty hunter Lobo.

Each strike, each blow, he witnessed with silent concern. The clash echoed through the cosmos, but even from the distant halls of Asgard, Heimdall could see the tide of battle was not in Thor's favour.

His golden eyes narrowed when he saw Thor, bruised and beaten, fall to the ground.

The God of Thunder had been bested. Mjolnir was ripped from his grasp, and Thor lay in the icy wasteland, defeated.

Heimdall's heart sank.

Without hesitation, he turned from his post and called out, his voice booming across the halls. "Lady Sif! Come quickly!"

Moments later, Lady Sif, the fierce warrior and loyal companion to Thor, appeared at his side, her brow furrowed with concern. "What is it, Heimdall?"

"It is Thor," Heimdall said grimly. "He has been defeated. Lobo has bested him, and he lies helpless on Midgard. You must retrieve him at once."

Sif's eyes widened with shock. "Thor… defeated?" She barely allowed herself a moment to process the news before her warrior instincts kicked in.

"Open the Bifröst. I will bring him home."

With a nod, Heimdall struck his sword into the keyhole of the Bifröst, and the rainbow bridge opened before them. A swirling, ethereal portal shot down to Earth, and Sif wasted no time stepping into its shimmering light.

Within seconds, she arrived on Midgard, standing amidst the frozen wasteland where Thor lay motionless. His body was battered, his armour cracked, and his once-mighty hammer, Mjolnir, was nowhere to be found.

Sif's heart ached at the sight of her fallen prince, but there was no time to mourn.

"Come, Thor," she whispered softly as she knelt beside him, gently lifting his unconscious form. With her strength, she carried him into the light of the Bifröst, and together, they returned to Asgard.

Upon their return, Sif rushed Thor to the healing chambers, where Asgard's finest healers immediately set to work, attending to his wounds. Thor was laid on the golden bed, his breathing shallow but steady.

Sif watched for a moment, her heart heavy with concern, before turning away. She had a duty to fulfil.

She made her way to the throne room, where King Odin sat on his grand throne, his presence as regal and imposing as ever.

But even before she spoke, Sif knew he was aware. Odin's all-seeing eye, the wisdom of a god-king, had already shown him what had transpired.

"My king," Sif began, bowing deeply before him. "Thor—"

Odin raised a hand, silencing her gently. "I have seen it, Lady Sif. My son has faced a trial and fallen, but this is not the end."

Sif clenched her fists. "Lobo defeated him, my king. He stole Mjolnir and left Thor beaten. We cannot let this stand."

Odin's gaze was steady, though his heart, like Sif's, was heavy. "Thor's defeat is a lesson, one he must learn. But rest assured, we will retrieve Mjolnir, and vengeance will not be denied. For now, let the healers tend to him. His time will come, but he is not yet ready."

Sif's face tightened with frustration but she knew better than to argue with the Allfather. "And what of this Lobo?"

Odin's eyes darkened. "Lobo is a threat, yes, but there are greater forces at play. The winds of war are rising, and Midgard is in its crosshairs. This battle was but a spark… the fire is yet to come."

Sif lowered her head. "As you will, my king."

With that, she turned and left the throne room, her mind still lingering on Thor's battered form and the danger that loomed over Midgard.

Asgard would not sit idly by for long—but for now, they would watch, wait, and prepare for the inevitable storm.

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