Modern Manhattan had become a graveyard.
Potholes split the roads, ornamental trees were snapped and blackened, and broken bricks, tiles, and twisted rebar were scattered across streets like battlefield shrapnel. Skyscrapers stood as hollowed-out skeletons, their glass windows shattered, their steel frames exposed.
Cars were abandoned mid-crash, some on fire, others crushed beneath the wreckage of fallen alien ships.
And everywhere—Chitauri corpses, their hybrid cybernetic bodies twisted in death, leaking both oil and blood. The vibrant city once known for its ambition, speed, and lights now resembled the desolate ruins of a post-apocalyptic world.
Yet amidst the devastation, golden light shimmered, gentle as moonlight and blinding as the sun.
From the rooftop of one of the few standing high-rises, a sword rose skyward, its blade radiating with celestial energy, drawing in golden particles from every corner of the battlefield. The sword was known as the Black Oath of Victory, and at that moment, it became a beacon of judgment.
Bella stood tall, her body aglow with power, hair cascading in waves, eyes closed in trance. She was surrounded by a sea of light, a divine cyclone that swirled around her, driving the air into a frenzied vortex. To the world watching below, she was no longer a mortal.
She was a god.
"Praise be…" someone whispered in the crowd.
"She's beautiful... she's terrifying... she's divine."
RUMBLING—
But beauty often walks hand in hand with devastation.
Bella's eyes snapped open, glowing with the light of eternity. Her gaze held no empathy, no hesitation—only divine resolve. She looked down upon the battlefield like a king surveying a realm of ashes.
And then she spoke.
Her voice cut through the wind.
"Ex—calibur."
BOOM!
She brought the sword down with a single, controlled motion.
The world exploded with light.
A colossal beam of golden energy shot from the blade, lancing upward through the clouds and into the heart of the sky. The force was so great, the very building beneath her feet—Tower 587—began to collapse from the shockwave.
No one cared.
All eyes were on the sky.
The golden beam surged through the portal above Manhattan, a blinding torrent of concentrated magic and destruction.
Thor and Tony, who had just subdued Loki and secured the scepter, turned their heads in unison.
"By the Nine..." Thor muttered.
"Is that faith? Or just... pure will?" he added, his voice tinged with awe.
Even Iron Man, mouth agape behind his helmet, couldn't form a response.
The golden torrent passed cleanly through the dimensional rift—a divine spear hurled into the void of space.
---
On the other side of the portal—
The Chitauri's twin-winged mothership loomed like a predator, its colossal frame shadowing the stars. Inside, soldiers and commanders moved in ordered chaos—until they saw it.
The golden torrent appeared in the void, burning a hole through the darkness.
Every screen, every window, every viewport reflected it.
And for the first time—the Chitauri froze.
The monstrous warriors who had terrorized galaxies, who took pleasure in slaughter, now stood in silent dread.
Their cold, inhuman eyes reflected only one thing—fear.
Commander Rui, the ruthless field general, roared to his engineers, trying to erect the energy barrier. "Raise the shields! Now!"
But it was too late.
The beam hit.
The mothership vaporized instantly, incinerated like paper in the sun. The golden wave rippled outwards, engulfing the worm-like transports, flight units, and hundreds of thousands of Chitauri warriors in a flash of obliteration.
No screams.
No resistance.
Only light.
---
On the Chitauri homeworld—
Far from Earth, cloaked in gray mist and deathly silence, a figure in a tattered gray robe stood in a cathedral-like structure of bone and steel.
The Chitauri Leader.
He watched through a projection as his entire fleet—his army—was annihilated.
His hand trembled around the obsidian scepter he held.
"No... NO!" he screamed.
He slammed the scepter into the floor, cracking the metallic earth beneath him. The force of his fury summoned a gale that tore through the chamber, knocking over pillars and scattering alien scrolls like leaves in a storm.
He stared at the beam still stretching across the cosmos, its tail end still piercing the sky, heading toward his own planet.
He did not see beauty.
He saw doom.
"How?" he growled. "This planet is supposed to be primitive! This is not possible!"
But it was.
He took two shaky steps back.
The golden beam struck.
A thunderous roar ripped through the heavens as the destructive torrent collided with the Chitauri homeworld's surface. A shockwave raced around the entire planet, shattering mountains, splitting valleys, and turning cities into molten craters.
Screams echoed through the air—only to be silenced in seconds.
Chitauri warriors, scientists, breeders, even their royal guard—all perished.
The planet shook under the strain, and the skies burned.
When it was over…
Silence.
The land bore a wound—a pit stretching hundreds of kilometers wide, its rock glassed over, still glowing with lingering heat. The core of the strike had liquefied the crust, and small rivers of lava dribbled into newly formed ravines.
Smoke curled into the atmosphere like funeral incense.
No signs of life.
Except one.
---
KACHA—
A hand, slick with dark green blood, emerged from the edge of the crater. Fingers curled into the ruined earth.
The Chitauri leader crawled from the wreckage, barely recognizable. His robe was now rags, burned into his flesh. His left arm was gone, and half of his face was blackened charcoal. One eye had melted.
But he lived.
He stood, trembling, looking around at the dead world around him.
Everyone. Everything. Gone.
He was alone.
"What... what power is this?" he rasped, his voice guttural.
He looked up into the void, at the remnants of the golden beam still fading into the stars.
"This isn't technology... not from Earth."
He took a deep breath, each inhale filled with agony.
"This is divine. This is... Level God Father power."
His good eye widened.
"Is there a true god on that planet? A mortal who ascended?"
The fear returned.
Not fear of death—but fear of who would come next.
Because it wasn't just about losing the battle.
He had failed.
And the overlord of the universe, the one who had entrusted him with this conquest, who had lent him the power of the scepter and promised dominion in return...
Would not forgive this.
Not after this disgrace.
And worst of all—he had led that overlord to Earth, drawn by the scent of the Infinity Stones.
He clenched his teeth. "This isn't over."
---
Back on Earth—
The golden beam faded from the sky. The portal above Manhattan sputtered—and collapsed inward with a thunderous sigh, its energy severed like a cut vein.
The battle was over.
But the world had changed.
Bella lowered her sword, breathing softly.
All across New York, people stared in stunned silence.
And then—
They cheered.
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