Marvel: My Sign-in System

Darcy's exaggerated expression brimmed with envy.

She didn't have a huge appetite, but the ability to summon food on demand was undeniably drool-worthy. For her, it was nothing short of a magical skill—a potential game-changer for saving money.

As Jane's assistant, Darcy's salary wasn't particularly high, and a good portion of it went to food. The rest? Shopping. If she could cut down on her food expenses, wouldn't that mean more funds for clothes and luxury items?

Perhaps the snap of this girl's fingers didn't only summon meals; maybe it could conjure the gorgeous outfits from TV that had kept Darcy awake at night with longing.

Wanda turned her gaze to Darcy, pausing briefly as her eyes swept over her larger frame. Without comment, Wanda walked to the table, waited for everyone to gather, and began to explain.

"These dishes are from the manor's chef. The food and drinks were already prepared; I simply transported them here through magic." She added with a slight smile, "But yes, I can create things too."

"I love your abilities," Darcy said earnestly.

"Thank you," Wanda replied warmly.

Despite the feast laid out before them, Darcy, Jane, and Dr. Selvig only picked at their portions. They were already full from the earlier meal. The same couldn't be said for Thor.

Even in mortal form, Thor's physical constitution rivaled the world's most elite athletes. His metabolism and appetite far outpaced that of ordinary people. Fueled by beer and camaraderie, Thor drank heartily, a massive mug in hand.

Sergei and Pietro weren't ones to back down from a drinking challenge. Their resilience and stamina ensured they could keep up, no matter how long the revelry lasted. Their lively participation made Thor even more boisterous, his laugh echoing through the room.

With the wine flowing freely, Thor began to vent, slamming his mug on the table and leaning toward Sergei with one muscular arm exposed. His voice, deep and commanding, filled the room.

"My father—your Odin, the wise, benevolent, and powerful king of your Midgard myths—is not the man you think he is. He's aged, his sharp edges dulled, his glory faded."

Thor's tone grew sharper, his words tinged with bitterness.

"He's lost the ferocity that once made the Nine Realms tremble before him. His iron hooves and spears spread Asgard's might, forcing those who defied us to kneel—or perish. That strength, that iron will, created the glory of the Odinson name."

"I once wanted to follow in his footsteps," Thor continued, his voice laden with frustration. "To win wars, to protect Asgard with my own strength and glory. But he told me I needed mercy, kindness. He demanded I set aside my pride and arrogance, abandon recklessness and impulsiveness. In the end, he stripped me of my divine power, cast me out, and made me a mortal."

Thor took another long swig of beer, his discontent unmistakable.

Jane Foster, Darcy, and Dr. Selvig exchanged uneasy glances. The more Thor spoke, the less he sounded like the noble God of Thunder they knew and admired—and more like a bitter son decrying a cruel and distant father.

Sergei, Pietro, and Wanda, however, shared a knowing look, their brows furrowing slightly. To them, Thor's grievances weren't shocking; they understood the harsh realities of power. Strength dictated everything. If Asgard had conquered other realms, it was because those realms were too weak to resist.

Still, Jane couldn't hold her tongue any longer. Anger flared in her voice as she interrupted. "You're wrong, Thor."

Thor blinked in surprise, turning toward her. "What?"

"I said you're wrong, Thor!" Jane repeated, her voice rising. "War is never the only option. If you look at history, you'll see countless wars waged over greed, colonization, and power. They've broken families, taken countless lives. Only those driven by selfish ambition thrive in such chaos. Everyone else suffers."

She stood, her eyes blazing with conviction. "Defending your home is one thing, but do you really think invading others and slaughtering innocents for glory is justifiable? They have families too, Thor. They have people they love."

Her words hit Thor like a thunderclap. For the first time, his bravado faltered.

"You may be thousands of years older than me, but right now, you're acting like a child," Jane said, her voice unwavering.

Dr. Selvig stepped in then, his tone calm but firm. Pulling a chair close to Thor, he sat down and spoke softly.

"Thor, I don't pretend to understand Asgard's idea of glory. But from what I've learned, true glory doesn't come from war or bloodshed. It comes from protecting your home and people without becoming a tyrant in the process."

Thor stared at the older man, his hammer-like grip tightening around his mug.

"You have immense power," Dr. Selvig continued. "Power that most people can't even fathom. But wielding it without compassion will only breed fear and hatred. If a ruler lacks mercy, then unless they destroy every enemy in existence, bloodshed will never end."

The room fell silent. Jane sat down, still fuming, while Darcy hesitated, glancing between Jane's righteous anger and Selvig's calm reasoning. Ultimately, she stayed quiet.

Thor looked down at his mug, his expression unreadable. His gaze shifted to the untouched food before him, his stormy blue eyes flickering with unspoken thoughts.

Wanda, sitting nearby, tilted her head slightly as she studied him, saying nothing.