Just call me Thor - Chapter 632

Chapter 632: The Grave of Mike
Earth.

A young man in white appeared on a street that felt both unfamiliar and familiar.

Passersby glanced at him curiously. His attire was strange, out of place, and didn’t blend in with the crowd.

Nearby was a convention center that regularly hosted anime expos and photography sessions. It wasn’t unusual to see people in costumes around here.

The young man looked weathered, as if he had been through a lot.

Though he was strikingly handsome, his aura was overwhelming—an oppressive presence of authority that made people instinctively avoid him.

A passing photographer, intrigued by the young man, mustered up the courage to approach him and asked curiously,

“Hey, man, are you cosplaying? Which character are you supposed to be? And what should I call you?”

The young man replied politely,

“Just call me Thor.”

Thor?

The name was so overused it was almost laughable.

From under the young man’s hat, a white dog’s head poked out. It was small, fluffy, and undeniably cute.

Clearly, it was part of the cosplay.

The photographer began racking his brain, trying to recall if there was any version of Thor in the movies or comics that involved a dog.

Before he could figure it out, the young man found his direction and began walking away.

The photographer panicked and chased after him.

“Wait! Don’t go!”

But in the blink of an eye, the young man vanished, as if he had never been there.

The photographer stood frozen in place, muttering to himself,

“What the hell…?”

—

Mike arrived at a familiar fast-food restaurant.

He bought some food and then headed to a park, where he sat on a bench.

Mike quickly devoured a chicken wing, leaving only the bone, which he casually tossed onto the ground.

The white dog sitting across from him stared at him with a judgmental look.

The two locked eyes for a moment before the white dog spoke.

“Don’t litter.”

“Sorry, first time owning a dog. Not used to it.”

Mike picked up the bone and, without hesitation, stuffed it into the white dog’s mouth.

“I remember fried chicken being delicious,” Mike said, reminiscing.

After a pause, he added,

“And expensive.”

The white dog chewed on the bone for a moment, unsure of what to say.

After finishing their meal of fried chicken, burgers, and fries, Mike stood up, holding an imaginary leash.

“Let’s go.”

The white dog asked,

“Where to?”

“To find traces of my existence.”

The young man, with a hammer hanging from his waist, walked out of the park, “leading” the white dog.

A little girl pointed at their backs and said,

“Mommy, that dog can talk!”

“Don’t be silly,” the mother replied, dismissing her daughter’s claim.

“How could a dog talk?”

The little girl insisted she had heard it, but the mother explained it was probably someone on a phone call or using voice chat.

Their argument caught the white dog’s attention.

It stopped, turned around, and looked at the mother and daughter.

The two fell silent, staring at the seemingly intelligent dog.

Under the little girl’s hopeful gaze, the white dog opened its mouth and said,

“Woof woof!”

—

After leaving the park, Mike walked with the dog, which pretended to sniff around as if searching for something.

Soon, the white dog led Mike to the base of a mountain.

Mike frowned and asked,

“Are you sure this is the place?”

“I’m sure.”

The white dog lit a cigarette for itself, only for Mike to snatch it away and stomp it out.

“No smoking for underage dogs.”

“What about when I’m an adult?”

“Still no.”

The white dog: …

It didn’t actually like smoking—it just thought it looked cool.

Staring at the small mountain before him, Mike fell silent.

The rest of the journey was quiet.

Neither Mike nor the white dog spoke as they climbed the mountain.

If Mike wanted, he could have scanned the entire mountain in an instant and found any trace of himself.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he climbed like an ordinary person, step by step.

Before long, they arrived at a cemetery.

Mike walked straight to the deeper part of the cemetery, stopping at a specific row.

He walked a few steps horizontally and found a gravestone.

It didn’t seem like his first time here.

It felt as though he had been here many times before.

In front of the gravestone was a bouquet of white flowers and a hamburger.

The water in the vase was clear, indicating someone had recently replaced it.

Mike’s gaze shifted upward, landing on the inscription on the gravestone.

It read:

“The Grave of Mike.”

Mike never expected that upon returning to Earth, he would find his own grave.

The white dog was equally stunned by the absurdity of the situation.

It was momentarily at a loss for words.

“Bro, what do we do now?”

Mike thought about the question seriously.

When in doubt, eat something first.

So Mike sat down, picked up the hamburger from the grave, and began eating.

Before he could finish, an old man shuffled over.

When the old man saw what Mike was doing, he became indignant.

“Young man, of all the things to do, you come here to steal food from a grave?!”

Mike corrected him seriously,

“This was left here for me to eat.”

“Don’t lie! Young people these days, I swear…”

The old man was so angry he was trembling, ready to give Mike a piece of his mind.

Suddenly, he froze.

As the old man got closer, he naturally noticed the gravestone.

At the top of the gravestone was a photo.

The young man in the photo bore an uncanny resemblance to the one sitting before him.

The old man’s hands shook as he stammered,

“You… you…”

Mike replied calmly,

“Got hungry, so I came up to grab a bite.”

The old man’s eyes rolled back, and he fainted on the spot.

Mike, of course, didn’t let him hit the ground.

A gentle breeze caught the old man, and a green light enveloped him.

In the blink of an eye, he regained consciousness.

Still shaken, the old man stared at Mike.

Mike spoke first,

“I’m his twin brother. My name’s Mick. I was just passing by to visit my brother.”

“You scared me half to death! Young man, is this something to joke about?”

The old man scolded Mike, then looked at the gravestone and sighed.

“It’s been so many years… You haven’t come to see your brother all this time!”

Though his tone was stern, it wasn’t overly accusatory.

He simply wanted Mick to visit more often.

After all, it was a shame for someone so young to have passed away.

“I couldn’t find my way home before,” Mike said with an awkward smile.

“I only just found out Mike had died.”

As he spoke, Mike took another bite of the hamburger and asked politely,

“Would you like a bite? It’s pretty good.”

“Are you messing with me?!”

The old man sighed again.

He was the caretaker of the cemetery and had followed Mike in earlier because something had felt off.

He hadn’t expected it to turn out like this.

After some small talk, Mike asked,

“I’ve been away from Mike for a while. Do you know how he died?”

“I don’t know,” the old man replied honestly.

“I just take care of the graves. How would I know how someone died?”

“My apologies,” Mike said.

He then asked,

“Do you know who left these things here?”

Mike believed the old man would have some idea.

“Oh, that? It’s a middle-aged man, a massage therapist. Very chatty—he even gave me a massage once and refused to take any money…”

Realizing he was rambling, the old man quickly got back on topic.

“He comes every year with his family to visit your brother. ”

Family?

Mike frowned.

He was certain the middle-aged man wasn’t related to him by blood.

So why was he visiting Mike’s grave?

And why was he leaving Mike’s favorite food?

After a few more words with the old man, Mike let him leave.

The old man felt strangely light on his feet, as if he possessed infinite strength.

Unbeknownst to him, Mike had casually cast a healing spell, curing most of his ailments.

The old man was now healthier than he had been at thirty and could easily live to 180, breaking the world record for longevity.

“Bro, what’s the plan now?”

After the old man left, the white dog asked,

“Are we going to find the guy who visits your grave?”

“No.”

Mike sat down, finished the hamburger, and removed the vase of flowers.

Staring at his own gravestone, he said,

“Smash the grave.”

What?!

The white dog was stunned.

“I’m still alive. Leaving this grave here—don’t you think it’s unlucky?”

Mike made a good point, and the white dog couldn’t argue.

“Alright, let’s smash it!”

The white dog rolled up its metaphorical sleeves, ready to demolish the grave.

Mike rolled his eyes and casually sent a bolt of lightning from his hand.

The grave opened.

Staring at the empty tomb, Mike’s expression turned cold.

“Just as I thought.”

The tomb was empty.

The white dog gasped.

“Bro, your body was stolen!”

“Don’t talk nonsense.”

Mike knocked the white dog on the head and said helplessly,

“I’m alive and well. This grave was suspicious from the start.

It’s likely that I didn’t die but crossed over with my body, and people here just assumed I was dead…”

The white dog suddenly realized that this method felt familiar.

There was a certain human Supreme Being who was particularly good at pulling off stunts like this.

The answer surfaced in both Mike’s and the white dog’s minds simultaneously:

Apollo.

Morpheus had been skilled at this too, but he had died three hundred years ago and couldn’t have been involved.

The only one capable of such a thing was Apollo.

The involvement of a human Supreme Being instantly complicated matters.

The white dog asked tentatively,

“Bro, shouldn’t we investigate what you did here first?”

“No.”

Staring at the empty tomb, Mike’s expression remained cold.

“There’s a simpler way.”

What?

Before the white dog could react, Mike turned to a nearby space.

The air began to distort.

A white horse appeared before Mike.

The white horse looked curious.

“How did you know I followed you here?”

Mike’s answer was simple.

“Because I’m strong now. That’s all.”