A notification from the System chimed in my Digivice. It had been a while since I had seen one.
[New Mission: Hunt Rogue Digimon]
[Location: New Mexico]
[Reward: Supply Boxes x30]
Thirty Supply Boxes. That was a lot. The last time I got that many was after the whole Tony Stark/Obadiah Stane debacle. That was enough to make me seriously consider dropping everything. I had been neglecting my duties as a Tamer, distracted by the EDEN project, Jessica's newfound powers, and the constant threat of Jokermon and his Shadowstone-wielding cronies.
I quickly sent texts to Olivia, Gwen, and Peter, letting them know I would be out of town for about a week. I kept it vague, saying something important had come up with DataStream Dynamics. I knew they would understand, or at least pretend to. This Digimon hunt was too lucrative to pass up, and honestly, a change of scenery sounded good. I needed to clear my head after all the recent chaos.
I made my way to the roof of my apartment building. I pulled out my Digivice and tapped the MailBirdramon icon.
[MAILBIRDRAMON: SUMMONING]
MailBirdramon materialized in a flash of blue data. Its mechanical wings unfolded, catching the faint city light. I swung a leg over its back, settling into the familiar saddle.
"New Mexico, MailBirdramon," I said, a grin spreading across my face.
With a powerful beat of its wings, MailBirdramon launched into the night sky. The city lights quickly receded beneath us as we climbed higher. The wind whipped past me, a refreshing contrast to the stagnant air of the city. I felt the familiar thrill of adventure course through me. New Mexico, here I come.
The New Mexico desert stretched out beneath MailBirdramon, a vast expanse of rust-colored earth, sparse scrub, and jagged rock formations. Every direction looked the same, a monotonous canvas of sun-baked desolation. My Digivice, usually so precise, was less than helpful.
[DIGIVICE: ROGUE DIGIMON DETECTED. LOCATION: NEW MEXICO DESERT.]
That was it. No glowing arrow, no specific coordinates, just the entire state. It felt like trying to find a single grain of sand on a beach that spanned a continent. The heat shimmered off the ground, distorting the already blurry landscape. My eyes ached from constantly scanning the horizon, searching for anything that didn't blend into the endless brown.
"This is going to take a while, isn't it?" I muttered to myself.
MailBirdramon dipped a wing, circling slowly. The mechanical hum of its flight was the only sound breaking the silence of the desert. We had been flying for what felt like hours, passing over canyons, mesas, and dry riverbeds, each one identical to the last. The sheer scale of the place was overwhelming. This wasn't a quick hunt like the ones in the city. This was a proper search, the kind that tested patience and made you question your life choices.
"Alright, System, give me a break here," I thought, hoping for a miracle update. "How about a general direction? North? South? Anywhere but 'the desert'."
The Digivice remained silent, stubbornly displaying its uselessly broad location. I sighed, adjusting my grip on MailBirdramon's back. This was a classic open-world game problem: huge map, vague objective. I just needed some kind of clue, anything to narrow down the search.
Then, a flicker of movement caught my eye. Below, in the middle of nowhere, a crowd of people had gathered. They formed a rough circle around a large, freshly formed crater in the desert floor. It was completely out of place, a bizarre congregation in an otherwise empty landscape. Their bright clothes stood out against the drab earth, and their movements seemed frantic, curious, all focused on the center of that unnatural depression.
"Well, that's new," I said, leaning forward. "MailBirdramon, let's take a closer look."
Descending closer, I saw what they were trying to lift. In the middle of the crater sat a hammer, embedded in the ground. People tried to pick it up, straining, but it wouldn't budge. They even brought a truck to tow it, but it still remained fixed.
"Is that Mjolnir?" I muttered, a wave of excitement and disbelief washing over me.
I immediately recognized it: Mjolnir.
I instantly knew Mjolnir meant Thor, and Thor's presence on Earth. This implied that Thor himself might be nearby. Mjolnir was not just any hammer; it was a legendary weapon, capable of summoning lightning and only wieldable by those deemed worthy. Its appearance here meant that the Norse gods, or at least one of them, had entered the Marvel Universe's terrestrial affairs.
I instructed MailBirdramon to descend towards the crater. As we approached, the crowd below panicked, scattering and fleeing in all directions at the sight of MailBirdramon. They screamed and pointed, their faces a mixture of terror and disbelief, as if a giant mechanical bird was the last thing they expected to see in the middle of the desert.
MailBirdramon landed with a gentle thud near the edge of the crater, stirring up a cloud of red dust. I hopped off its back, feeling the gritty sand crunch under my boots. Gatomon and BlackGatomon shimmered into existence from my Digivice, their eyes wide and curious as they stared at the embedded hammer.
"What is that big thing, Ethan?" Gatomon asked, tilting her head.
BlackGatomon circled the hammer, sniffing at the strange metal.
"It smells… powerful," BlackGatomon observed. "But it's just a hammer."
"It's not just a hammer," I explained, walking closer to the object. "That's Mjolnir, Thor's hammer. In Norse mythology, and apparently here in the Marvel Universe, it's a legendary weapon. It can summon storms and lightning, and only those who are 'worthy' can lift it."
Gatomon looked from the hammer to me, then back to the hammer.
"Worthy?" she repeated, a hint of skepticism in her voice. "What makes someone worthy?"
"That's the million-dollar question, Gatomon," I replied, a smirk touching my lips. "It's not about physical strength. It's about character, nobility, courage, selflessness… all that good hero stuff."
BlackGatomon scoffed.
"Sounds like a bunch of fluff to me," she said.
"Please, I can lift it," BlackGatomon insisted, puffing out her chest.
"You? Don't make me laugh," Gatomon scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You probably couldn't even lift a feather without dropping it."
"Oh, I'll show you a feather, Light-paws! My claws are stronger than your pathetic holy rings any day."
"Your claws are just reckless. Mine are precise."
"Precisely weak."
I tuned out their usual squabble, my gaze fixed on Mjolnir. Worthy. The word echoed in my mind. I had faced down Digimon, saved people from villains, even gone toe-to-toe with the Hulk. I had a good heart, mostly, and I definitely had courage. Could I be worthy? It was a crazy thought, the kind of comic book fantasy I used to read about. But this was real. This was the Marvel Universe, and Mjolnir was right there, practically begging for a touch.
I took a step closer, my hand reaching out. A strange energy seemed to hum around the hammer, a silent challenge. Every fiber of my being wanted to try, to see if I, Ethan Kepler, could lift the legendary hammer of Thor. My fingers brushed the cold, ancient metal, and a jolt went through me.
***
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