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Chapter 30 MCE
🕑 Added 2025-05-16 14:25:57 +0000 UTCTony tried to act like it was no big deal, like this was just business as usual—but there was something deeper in his eyes.
Fear.
The kind that came from facing too many battles, too many near-apocalypses. Near extinction events.
Whether it was the Chitauri invasion, a literal demonic incursion, or either of the New York disasters... Tony had seen too much.
He was cracking, desperate to achieve control and security.
Luke could see it.
Luke stayed silent for a moment, letting the weight of the offer sink in.
Hundreds of billions of dollars.
Just handed over like it was pocket change.
Could he even sleep peacefully if he turned it down?
But in the end, he didn’t sign.
Luke wasn’t the type to tie himself down. SHIELD, the Avengers—they weren’t his kind of crowd.
Even his role as a temporary guardian of the Sanctum had been more out of convenience than allegiance.
"Damn it, looking at you is giving me a headache," he muttered, waving his hand.
A glowing portal opened behind Tony.
Before Stark could protest, Luke flicked his fingers, and both the billionaire and his precious contract were flung through it.
Hundreds of billions in assets—gone in a second.
Luke winced slightly. "Ugh. That actually hurt."
……………
Odin, who had quietly observed the entire scene, let out a deep chuckle.
"This mortal... his future holds great promise," he said with a knowing smile.
Coming from the All-Father of Asgard, that wasn’t faint praise.
"What? Can you see the future too?" Luke grumbled, dropping onto the couch again, clearly irritated.
"No," Odin said calmly, sipping from his goblet. "But I’ve walked this universe for over thousands of years. I’ve learned how to judge people."
His one eye glowed faintly as he turned toward Luke. "And I see the same in you. Your future... is limitless."
"Alright, alright. Enough flattery," Luke said, waving it off. "You didn’t show up here just to butter me up. What’s really going on?"
Odin nodded. "I’m here because of Hela."
Luke raised an eyebrow.
"Unlike my sons, Hela inherited my ambition and ruthlessness from my younger days. Her power is tied to Asgard. If she escapes Hel and sets foot on Asgardian soil again... she’ll be unstoppable."
Odin's tone grew heavy, his words laced with foresight and dread.
It was clear he had seen visions of destruction.
"Luke, I need your help."
"Stop right there," Luke said quickly, his expression already turning sour. "I don’t do family drama."
If anything, he felt more sympathy for Hela.
Odin had built an empire with her—used her like a weapon.
And when his plans changed, he cast her out like she was just a tool gone dull.
Luke stared Odin down.
"If you're here to ask me to help put your daughter back in a cage, you can turn around and leave."
Odin didn’t flinch. Instead, he shook his head.
"No," he said. "I want you to help her."
"What!?"
...
Looking at Odin’s back as he walked away slowly with the help of his staff, Luke stood in the doorway, still a bit stunned.
"Did that old man seriously just say that?" he muttered, rubbing his temples.
"You want me to conquer Hela and let her conquer everything else?"
The more he thought about it, the more absurd it sounded.
Hela wasn’t just a force of nature—she was nature.
A queen born to rule, whose mere presence could make even the toughest warrior kneel.
Subduing someone like her?
Might as well try to tame a black hole.
But Odin’s words echoed in his mind.
Hela was obsessed with conquest. That hunger was written into her soul.
Odin believed that if she was given something to conquer—if that drive could be redirected outward instead of against Asgard—it could stop the storm brewing inside her.
In simpler terms: send her to fight the real threats, so she’d stop picking a fight with her home.
Luke had raised an eyebrow and asked, "Where do you expect me to find that many enemies to feed her appetite?"
And Odin—crafty as ever—had smirked.
"I already spoke to the Ancient One before I came here," he had said. "From what I understand, you've made quite a few enemies already."
"Rather than waiting for them to show up at your doorstep, wouldn’t it be smarter to take the fight to them—with Hela at your side?"
Luke didn’t like it, but... he had a point.
The dimensional barriers were weaker now.
More things were slipping through.
Instead of playing defense forever, maybe it was time to go on the offensive.
Use the cracks between realms as highways instead of vulnerabilities.
And who knows... maybe on the way, he’d claim a throne or two himself.
Still, one little problem remained.
"How the hell do I convince a death goddess to take orders from me?"
Luke sighed and stepped back into the house.
He didn’t even make it past the living room before spotting Wanda.
She stood there, hands clenched, her expression torn, and her eyes red.
"Let me guess," Luke said. "You saw Stark."
Wanda gave a tiny nod.
Her voice was quiet, but full of hurt.
"The missile that killed my parents... it had his name on it."
Luke let out a small breath.
He had a good idea of the truth—Obadiah Stane, that old vulture, had probably been the one who sold weapons to both sides.
Tony had been blind to it, but he wasn’t innocent either. Still, Luke wasn’t here to defend him.
Besides... the anger wasn’t directed at him. That’s what mattered.
"Mr. Constantine, you and Stark... are you close?" Wanda asked, uncertainty creeping into her voice.
She looked like she was bracing herself for the answer.
Luke just waved it off casually.
"Don’t worry about it. But hey, if you’re planning on going after him one day, at least give me a heads-up. So I can short Stark Industries stock before it crashes."
Wanda stared at him for a second, then let out a soft laugh.
Some of the tension in her shoulders eased.
"Thank you, Mr. Constantine."
"Forget the 'Mr.' Just start calling me Luke, okay?"
She nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Luke watched her quietly for a moment.
She had power, no doubt—but also a shadow of self-doubt always clinging to her.
Whether from her past or how others treated her, she seemed to constantly lower herself, like she didn’t believe she belonged.
That wouldn’t last forever.
Not under his roof.
"I’m getting dinner started," he said, turning for the kitchen.
But before he could even open a cabinet, Felicia darted in like a cat guarding its food bowl.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa—nope! You are not taking this job from me," she said, gently but firmly pulling Wanda back. "Little girl, let me handle this. Cooking is my domain now."
As she spoke, she kept sneaking glances toward Luke, clearly worried about how he’d react.
Luke didn’t even look over.
He was already heading back to the couch, waving a hand lazily.
"Fine, fine. Just don’t burn the place down."
Felicia exhaled in relief and got to work.
Wanda watched her, then smiled again—smaller this time, but real.
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Moustafa Al_taweel
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