Reborn as the God-Emperor in Marvel

Dormammu was disappointed. He had calculated the time, expecting that the person in sheep pajamas who came to tell him stories every day would show up, but today, Solomon didn't arrive as usual. Even their usual chase-and-flee game couldn't happen. However, Dormammu wasn't the only one left disappointed; Lorna, waiting at the orphanage, was also upset because Solomon had promised to animate her rainbow pony drawing.

So, the question arose—where had Solomon gone?

"Heimdall, I never expected Asgard to turn out like this," Solomon remarked, standing at the broken edge of the Bifrost, speaking casually to the burly man clad in golden armor beside him. The reason Solomon had "ghosted" Dormammu and Lorna was work-related. Although the Sorcerer Supreme didn't care about the Destroyer armor, all the follow-up tasks still fell on Kamar-Taj, and since Mordo and Kaecilius had previously handled such duties, it was now Solomon's turn. The Sorcerer Supreme believed it wouldn't take Solomon long to handle the matter, so she had sent him to Asgard.

Beneath Solomon's feet, the endless water churned into white froth, cascading into the void before dissolving into twinkling stardust in the cosmos. Solomon stomped on the Bifrost, still unable to comprehend the sheer force needed to shatter the radiant bridge. He also couldn't believe Thor had actually done such a thing—after all, this was the foundation of Asgard.

It seemed the Sorcerer Supreme's schemes had succeeded. Thor would indeed become a "benevolent king," which, while sounding positive, wasn't necessarily a compliment. A king could either be kind or rule effectively, but not both. Yet Odin had no choice but to accept this outcome—he didn't have time or better options.

Heimdall, standing silent, didn't acknowledge Solomon's comments, perhaps due to the slight schadenfreude in Solomon's tone. Heimdall continued to stare into the distant stars, his thoughts unknowable. 

"Tell me, Heimdall," Solomon pressed, "I'm about to meet the All-Father and deal with the Asgardian nobility. What's the situation here? I'm just here to retrieve some documents and discuss a few matters."

"You can speak to me," Heimdall finally replied. "Perhaps I can make decisions."

"What about the Destroyer armor?" Solomon raised an eyebrow. "Can you make that call? I'm here representing Midgard to negotiate. Let's skip the useless fools who only eat and drink and get straight to business."

Heimdall shot Solomon a glare before turning and striding toward the palace. Solomon had to hurry to keep up with the towering warrior's long steps. The Bifrost stretched from Asgard's edge to the golden walls of the palace, and it was only here that Solomon could see the true extent of the damage the broken bridge had inflicted on Asgard.

Asgard's arable land had always been limited, consisting mostly of forests and mountains. However, the realm's vast consumption of grain—especially for brewing their beloved mead—meant they often relied on the Bifrost to import crops from other star systems. As Asgardians paid with precious metals and were famed for their military prowess, many civilizations were more than happy to trade with them.

But when the Bifrost was destroyed, Asgard's imports ceased, and food supplies in common households dwindled rapidly. Fortunately, Odin had hastily allocated military rations to the civilians, preventing widespread starvation, but now, the once-lively taverns in the commoner districts were nearly empty.

Meanwhile, the nobility continued their revelries in the upper city, celebrating Thor's recent victory over the rebels.

As previously mentioned, Asgard operated under a true feudal system, where social hierarchy was determined by bloodline.

Typically, as productivity and technology advance, feudal societies begin to crumble. But here, neither technology nor magic could bridge the vast power gap between the nobility and the commoners. Furthermore, Asgard's expansion and prosperity had been built on centuries of war, with the burdens of their wealth transferred onto the commoners of other realms. The Asgardian citizens, enjoying relative ease, saw no reason to revolt.

But now, the benefits of conquest were no longer flowing into Asgard. If it weren't for Queen Frigga and her Vanir officials managing logistics, Asgard might have already descended into chaos like other realms. This was also why Odin hadn't immediately passed the throne to Thor—he knew Thor lacked the ruthlessness needed to deal with such crises. Thor, having caused the situation, would never raise his hand against his own people.

The All-Father sighed, feeling the weight on his body grow heavier. His last Odinsleep had been forcibly interrupted, placing a great strain on him. Yet, he still needed to sit upon this golden throne because as long as he sat there, Asgard would remain stable. He was the king; he was the state.

"All-Father," Heimdall knelt at the foot of the throne, bowing before Odin. "The envoy from Kamar-Taj in Midgard has arrived."

"Bring him forward," Odin said slowly.

Heimdall complied and brought Solomon into the palace. The last time Solomon had only observed this hall from a distance, but now, walking through it, he truly grasped its immense length. Anyone, upon walking this path and gazing at the towering golden architecture and intricate murals, would feel awe. Solomon, though a skilled sorcerer and Kamar-Taj emissary, felt a twinge of respect for the grandeur.

"All-Father," Solomon greeted without kneeling, as he was not an Asgardian subject. He simply bowed, performing the customary gesture of a sorcerer. He avoided direct eye contact with Odin, knowing the importance of etiquette. "I have come to discuss the aftermath of Thor's descent to Earth, including the handling of the Destroyer armor."

"Solomon Damonet," Odin spoke, opening his single eye to look at the sorcerer standing below the steps. "Raise your head."

Solomon lifted his gaze and noticed the weariness etched even deeper into Odin's face since the last time he saw him. It was clear that the Odinsleep had not relieved the All-Father's burdens. As Odin assessed Solomon, he noted the four rings on the sorcerer's fingers and the magical aura surrounding him, realizing how highly the Sorcerer Supreme regarded him.

"Why not join the banquet?" Odin's voice suddenly grew stronger, masking his fatigue. "You are young; you shouldn't be stuck here with an old man like me. Heimdall can decide this matter. Go, join the feast. Call for Sif and Thor—they should know how to handle this."

"Your decree, All-Father," Solomon replied, bowing once more before being led by Heimdall to the grand feast. Asgardian banquets lasted for hours, sometimes even days, because Asgardians could handle their drink. Even if they passed out from drunkenness, there was plenty of time to sober up and resume drinking. The feast wouldn't end until all the lamb, beef, pork, butter, fish, roasted meat, and endless desserts had been devoured, and not a drop of mead remained in the barrels.

This banquet, being held in Thor's honor, was still in full swing when Solomon arrived. He saw courtiers and maidens continuously bringing in trays of food and peered into one corner of the palace, where he could see stacks of empty barrels.

"Is now really the time to discuss business?" Solomon asked, raising his voice to be heard over the rowdy guests. Heimdall nodded, sitting at an empty table (though Solomon suspected there might have been someone there earlier, as he felt something soft under his foot). Before they even settled in, a boisterous guest shoved a drinking horn into Solomon's hand.

"Drink, drink!" they shouted. "For Thor! For Odin! Drink, warrior! Enjoy the feast!"

As soon as they saw Heimdall, however, the revelers sobered up instantly, the rowdy drunks turning silent. Heimdall held a special status in Asgard—few dared to have close relations with him. His ability to see not only the universe but also everything within Asgard itself made him a valuable intelligence officer for the All-Father. Any conspiracies or plots were laid bare under Heimdall's gaze.

While their corner of the hall grew quiet, the rest of the feast continued unabated. Heimdall even pulled someone out from under the table and tossed him aside, causing the crowd to instinctively move away.

"Aren't we summoning Thor and Sif?" Solomon asked.

"No," Heimdall replied, taking a sip of mead. The honey wine served at Asgardian feasts was the finest available—exceedingly sweet and expensive. Despite the somewhat unsavory legend behind its origin, it remained one of the most delightful drinks in the Nine Realms, far superior to Earth's meads. Solomon, after tasting it, found it difficult to stop.

"Thor and Loki didn't cause much damage to Midgard. That's fortunate," Solomon said, downing a vial of universal elixir. The alchemical potion delayed intoxication, allowing Solomon to remain sober while drinking, ensuring he wouldn't misspeak during negotiations.

"That was decided between the All-Father and the Sorcerer Supreme," Heimdall replied coolly, unaffected by Solomon's underlying tone.

"But the Destroyer armor did cause some financial damage," Solomon added, raising his glass to Heimdall, with no regard for the fact that the armaments weren't his to begin with.

"The Destroyer armor remains on Midgard."

"And that's Thor's fault. I was there, Midgard bears no responsibility."

"Asgard will reclaim the Destroyer armor."

"That's fine," Solomon said, accepting a second cup of mead from a trembling servant girl. "But I won't be responsible for returning it, nor will Kamar-Taj."

Heimdall narrowed his eyes.

"Unfortunately, the remnants of the Destroyer armor were seized by an organization called S.H.I.E.L.D.," Solomon said with feigned innocence, acting as if he hadn't had the ability to take the armor himself. "So, Heimdall, it's up to you—you'll have to find it."

Heimdall took another sip of mead.

"The Destroyer armor was Asgard's mess, thrown down to Earth. It's Asgard's responsibility to clean it up, wouldn't you agree?"

"That was Loki's doing."

"But we both know Loki still represented Asgard at the time. At least, when he dropped the Destroyer, he was technically king of Asgard."

"So?"

"My suggestion is that once the Bifrost is repaired, Asgard should use it to retrieve the Destroyer armor," Solomon proposed. "Divining the location of such a powerful artifact requires a great cost. Asgard has no reason to burden the Sorcerer Supreme with that price—you'll have to handle it yourselves, or you'll never recover the Destroyer."

"As for the chaos Thor caused… I think the book I didn't finish last time should suffice to cover the cost of the spells I cast."

Now, Solomon was fully immersed in the revelry. The conversation with Heimdall had been crafted into a preliminary draft, awaiting the royal scribes to formalize it into an official document. Only after it received Odin's approval would it become effective. The scribe, unfortunately, had been the one Heimdall pulled out from under the table, so both he and Solomon would have to wait.

Eventually, once the scribe sobered up (with some physical persuasion from Heimdall), the document was finalized, receiving the approval of both Queen Frigga and Odin. It was sealed with wax and handed to Solomon, with an identical copy kept in the palace archives. After thoroughly reviewing the document, Solomon was satisfied—it aligned perfectly with his recommendations.

This meant that no matter where S.H.I.E.L.D. tried to hide the Destroyer armor, it would be struck by the Bifrost. The document would also expose S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secret bases. When the Bifrost came crashing down on the research facilities storing the armor, even some top-secret sites, like the Sandbox or the Fridge, would be revealed—after all, S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't the only organization with access to satellites.

But that was a matter for after the Bifrost was repaired. Solomon wasn't concerned about what S.H.I.E.L.D. could glean from the Destroyer armor. From what he knew, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s findings would be limited to the armor's mechanical structure and some magical spectrum analysis. Their reverse-engineered weapons, based on the Destroyer's rune magic, would amount to nothing more than oversized fireball spells—not much of a threat.

Still, Solomon's plans for revenge against Nick Fury didn't stop there. Exposing a few secret bases wasn't enough. After returning to Earth with the Sorcerer Supreme, Solomon quickly archived the Asgardian document, then opened a portal and stepped into darkness—entering what appeared to be an ordinary home. The owner was quite tidy, but Solomon still found a gun stashed under the glass tabletop. Taking the gun, he sat in a chair without turning on the lights, making not a sound.

"Agent Victoria Hand," Solomon spoke suddenly after a while. "I need to have a word with you."

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