The ripples of rules around mjolnir subsided, returning to that mountain-like silence.
All of this happened on a level beyond mortal perception; in the real World, it was nothing more than the time of a few heartbeats.
Coulson and Natasha only saw Artoria stand still for a moment, her expression seemingly more focused, before she turned and walked back.
However, Minerva's optical sensor captured an extremely brief yet intense, subtle fluctuation in the energy field around her Master, as well as an abnormal peak in her soul's amplitude at that instant. Blue light flashed rapidly, but seeing that her breathing was steady, she ultimately suppressed her worry and returned to silence.
Artoria walked back to Coulson, a fine layer of cold sweat already covering her back.
Making eye contact with the King of Gods from across space, even if only for an instant, put a mental strain on her that far exceeded a fierce battle.
Fortunately, communication seemed to have reached a preliminary understanding; at the very least, it did not invite immediate hostility.
"How is it, Miss Artoria? Any new discoveries?" Coulson asked immediately, his gaze sharp.
Artoria pondered for a moment, organizing her words: "That object... its very existence is a manifestation of highly condensed 'rules'."
"The restrictions imposed upon it—you can understand it as a top-level encryption lock—are perfectly fused with the object's source power, forming a self-consistent, closed system."
"With Earth's current means, it is almost impossible to brute-force; unless its preset, unique 'key' condition is met, or... the one who cast it voluntarily releases it."
Her gaze turned back to the observation shed. Thor seemed to have raised his head again due to the commotion outside, looking over through the one-way glass with chaotic eyes.
"As for him... he is the only preset 'key' associated with this'system'. But his current state clearly does not meet the 'unlocking' conditions."
"Forced external help or stimulation is not only useless, but likely to trigger unpredictable defense mechanisms, or even invite... attention from the 'encryptor' level."
She gave Coulson a meaningful look, "The safest approach is to ensure his basic safety and dignity, and provide an environment where he can calmly reflect."
"Letting him figure out certain connections on his own is the right way to break the deadlock. Excessive desire for 'research' or controlling behavior is dangerous and unwise in this matter."
Coulson's expression was grave, and he nodded slowly. Natasha crossed her arms, her fingertips tapping lightly on her arm, clearly digesting and evaluating this information at high speed.
"I understand, thank you for your candor," Coulson said in a deep voice, "Then, regarding the true origin of this object and Mr. Thor, could you..."
"Asgard." Artoria clearly stated the name.
"A highly advanced civilization that far exceeds Earth's imagination in terms of both technology and individual power, and has a historical intersection with Earth's Norse mythology."
"Thor is the Prince of Asgard, the God of Thunder. This incident is essentially a... special trial within Asgard."
"Earth, or rather us, is best positioned as an 'accidentally involved bystander' and a 'temporary host'."
"It should be treated with the courtesy due a 'distinguished guest' who is highly sensitive and has arrived unexpectedly due to force majeure, giving necessary respect and protection, rather than viewing him as a research sample to be deconstructed or a potential threat."
Her tone was calm but carried an unquestionable weight.
Asgard. The God of Thunder. These words spoken by this "extra-terrestrial Traveler" in such a definitive manner brought a tremendous impact.
Coulson took a deep breath, and Natasha's eyes narrowed slightly, her sharp gaze as if wanting to dismantle and analyze every word Artoria said.
Just then—"Bang!"
The one-way glass door of the observation shed was slammed open from the inside, and Thor's tall figure rushed out like a trapped beast released from its cage.
The two Agents guarding him reacted extremely quickly, attempting to step forward to block him, but he easily pushed them aside with a casual wave of his arm and astonishing brute force, causing them to stagger backward.
Thor did not care about the commotion behind him; at this moment, he only had eyes for Artoria. He strode over and stopped a few steps in front of her, his chest heaving violently, his blue eyes bloodshot from excitement and days of frustration, staring fixedly at her.
"You!" His voice was hoarse, like grinding gravel. He raised a hand to point at mjolnir in the distance, then suddenly pointed at Artoria.
"You just now! You were close to it! You and it... have a connection, right? Tell me! What did you feel?"
"Why? Why can't I lift it?! I am Thor! Son of Odin! mjolnir belongs to me! It must respond to me!"
The last words were almost a growl, carrying the despair and unwillingness of being pushed to the brink.
Everyone's eyes focused on them instantly. Coulson took a half-step forward, seemingly wanting to ease the atmosphere. Natasha's body tensed almost imperceptibly. Minerva moved half a step silently, positioning herself in an optimal spot to intervene at any moment.
Artoria, however, remained calm. She looked up, meeting Thor's eyes, which were burning with chaotic flames; her clear, emerald eyes were like two deep pools, reflecting not a trace of panic.
"Mr. Thor," her voice was not loud, but it strangely pierced through the tense air of the scene, clearly reaching everyone's ears, carrying a power that smoothed out the agitation, "Look, your hammer is still there."
She turned to the side, signaling him to look at mjolnir. The hammer stood quietly, bathed in the desert sunset, ancient, silent, and unchanging throughout the ages.
"It has not left, it has not flown away, nor has it been taken away by anyone," Artoria said slowly, every word seemingly carrying weight, "It is merely waiting. Waiting for... a true answer."
"Answer? What answer?!" Thor growled, his fists clenched tight with a creaking sound, "I am the God of Thunder! My answer is power! It is conquest! It is glory!"
"Is that so?" Artoria's gaze became deep, as if seeing through his manic facade to the soul blinded by pride and power.
"Then, please tell me, Thor. When you wield mjolnir, with thunderous force, what is it that you wish to protect? And what are you willing to sacrifice?"
She took a step forward; although she was not as tall as Thor, her presence was not weak in the slightest. Her voice was like a clear spring striking stone, knocking directly at the heart.
"Power can destroy mountains, it can tear the sky apart. But true power's meaning does not lie in what you can destroy, but in what you are willing to protect, and what you are willing to lay down for."
"The qualifications of a king are never inscribed in the nobility of bloodlines, nor are they manifested in the strength of power. It only exists here—" She gently raised her hand and pointed to her chest, looking at Thor with burning eyes.
"It exists in whether you are willing, for the sake of those more important than yourself—perhaps your people, perhaps innocent weaklings, perhaps everything you cherish—to put down the war hammer you view as your life, to bow your noble head, and even... give up everything you have, including your life and glory."
"When you truly understand that the essence of power is protection rather than conquest, responsibility rather than authority, sacrifice rather than taking... then, perhaps you will no longer need to ask 'why', because the answer is already in your heart."
As her voice faded, the surroundings fell into silence. Only the desert wind, carrying sand grains, emitted a monotonous wail.
Thor was stunned. The mania, unwillingness, and anger on his face receded like a tide, revealing the blankness and bewilderment underneath.
Artoria's words were like a key that was not sharp but incredibly precise, attempting to pry open something deep within his heart that had been buried for too long by dust and arrogance.
His lips moved, seemingly wanting to refute, wanting to roar, but in the end, it only transformed into a low, gasping sound, almost like a whimper. The flames in his eyes extinguished, leaving only immense confusion, and a trace of... something he himself had not yet understood, a subtle palpitation and stinging pain originating from the depths of his soul.
He staggered back half a step, his tall frame seeming to hunch over slightly. Slowly, gradually, he lowered his head again, no longer looking at Artoria, nor at mjolnir in the distance, but just staring at his own empty, slightly trembling hands, as if he were truly "seeing" them for the first time.
Artoria said no more. She looked at Thor deeply; her gaze contained scrutiny, inquiry, and also a faint, almost compassionate expectation. Then, she turned to Coulson and Natasha and nodded slightly.
"That is all for my advice. How you handle it, I trust you will have a professional judgment," her tone returned to its usual calmness, "If there is nothing else, we will take our leave."
Coulson recovered from his brief shock and immediately said, "Of course, thank you again, Miss Artoria. The information you provided is crucial."
Natasha also nodded gently, her eyes beneath her red hair deep, wondering what she was thinking.
Artoria did not linger. She exchanged a glance with Minerva, who was waiting quietly nearby. The two turned and walked along the path they had come, unhurriedly heading toward the SUV parked on the perimeter.
The setting sun stretched their shadows long across the desert, gradually moving further away from that strange place behind them, which condensed the majesty of the divine realm, mortal confusion, and organizational vigilance.
On the way back to the small town, the inside of the car was silent. Not until they had driven far out of the S.H.I.E.L.D. security perimeter did Minerva speak softly, breaking the silence: "You just now... conducted a direct exchange with the existence known as Odin." She used a declarative sentence.
"Yes, it was... a greeting from across space, stating our position," Artoria leaned back against the seat, looking at the desert landscape outside the car window, which was rushing past and dyed golden-red by the setting sun, her tone carrying a hint of relaxation after fatigue.
"Hopefully, this All-Father can understand that we have no malice and no ambition. As for the rest... it depends on when that Prince himself can pierce through that layer of fog blinding his heart."
The seed had been sown, and had even received the gardener's tacit consent. But whether it could pierce through the hard soil, welcome the wind and rain, and eventually grow into a towering tree, ultimately depended on the seed's own strength.
Night began to fall; the last trace of crimson-purple in the sky was gradually swallowed by deep blue, and a few early stars quietly emerged.
The lights of the small town flickered sporadically ahead, warm and ordinary. A brief contact that crossed the boundaries of dimensions and gods and men, a silent dialogue that might influence the future landscape, faded into the vast starry sky and desert of New Mexico, waiting for it to slowly reveal its magnificent sequel in the time to come.
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