Thor was not difficult to find.

  That alone should have unsettled them.

  The Analyst traced him to a region recovering from disaster — not war, but collapse. Flooded roads. Broken infrastructure. Temporary shelters that had already become semi-permanent.

  “He’s involved in rebuilding,” she said. “Not just aftermath. Ongoing support.”

  Crisis frowned. “That’s… good.”

  “Yes,” the Analyst replied. “Which makes this worse.”

  They arrived in daylight.

  That mattered.

  Thor stood among people who were tired but moving — lifting debris, repairing frames, laughing when things went wrong. His hammer rested against his shoulder like a tool, not a threat.

  When he saw them, he grinned.

  “Well!” he boomed. “If it isn’t thoughtful faces and long silences.”

  Crisis stiffened.

  Ms. A blinked.

  The intern smiled before she could stop herself.

  “You look like people who carry questions,” Thor said cheerfully. “Come — walk with me.”

  He didn’t wait for agreement.

  They followed.

  Thor spoke as he worked.

  Jokes.

  Encouragement.

  A hand here, a shoulder there.

  Strength given freely, without spectacle.

  “You see?” he said, gesturing around. “No one here asked for a god.”

  He laughed.

  “They asked for help.”

  Ms. A kept her tone even.

  “We’re concerned about persistence,” she said. “Escalation without resolution.”

  Thor nodded vigorously.

  “Yes! Terrible thing. Always has been.”

  Crisis paused.

  “You… agree?”

  “Of course,” Thor said. “Conflict that doesn’t end is exhausting.”

  He laughed again.

  “So I help it end.”

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  I frowned.

  “By staying?”

  Thor looked at me with open curiosity.

  “By standing,” he corrected. “Until they don’t need me.”

  “And when is that?” I asked.

  He shrugged, still smiling.

  “When I’m not welcome anymore.”

  The intern spoke then.

  “But they welcome you,” she said.

  Thor beamed.

  “Exactly!”

  That joy was infectious.

  Dangerously so.

  “You don’t fear dependence?” Crisis asked.

  Thor laughed, loud and warm.

  “Dependence?” he echoed. “I fear abandonment.”

  The word landed softly — and hard.

  “You see suffering,” Thor continued, voice gentler now, “and you think it builds character if left alone.”

  He shook his head.

  “I’ve watched worlds break that way.”

  He knelt to help someone lift a beam, then straightened.

  “Strength unused is cowardice,” he said easily. “Strength withheld is cruelty.”

  The intern nodded slowly.

  “That makes sense,” she said.

  I felt something twist in my chest.

  She meant it.

  “You speak of retirement,” Thor said, finally turning to Ms. A.

  “But what you mean is withdrawal.”

  Ms. A held his gaze.

  “And you believe that’s wrong.”

  Thor’s smile softened, but did not fade.

  “I believe,” he said, “that leaving while you can still help is a sin.”

  No thunder.

  No threat.

  Just conviction.

  I tried again.

  “Even if staying prevents growth?”

  Thor laughed.

  “Growth?” he said. “My friend, growth is what happens when people survive long enough to try again.”

  He clapped my shoulder — friendly, heavy.

  “Let philosophers argue over endings,” he said.

  “I’ll keep people alive.”

  Crisis was visibly struggling.

  “You don’t get to decide that,” she said.

  Thor looked genuinely surprised.

  “I don’t?” he asked. “Then who does?”

  No one answered.

  They spoke for another hour.

  And Thor listened.

  Agreed with concerns.

  Acknowledged risks.

  Promised vigilance.

  But never — not once — did he concede the core point.

  As they prepared to leave, Thor raised a hand.

  “You’re good people,” he said warmly. “You worry because you care.”

  He smiled at The intern.

  “Don’t lose that.”

  She swallowed.

  “I won’t,” she said.

  And meant it.

  In the car, silence held longer than before.

  Finally, The intern spoke.

  “He’s… kind,” she said.

  “Yes,” Ms. A replied.

  “And righteous,” The intern added.

  “Yes.”

  “And wrong?” The intern asked, quietly.

  No one answered.

  That night, I lay awake.

  Thor hadn’t dismissed logic.

  He’d outshined it.

  His optimism didn’t deny consequences — it overwhelmed them with good intentions.

  I understood then why strength was so hard to retire.

  It felt like love.

  And love rarely believes it can harm.

  Sleep came late.

  And uneasy.