"Homelander, please… I'm begging you, don't do this!" Dr. Banner's voice cracked, trembling with desperation. Sweat streaked down his temple as he clutched the case holding the Time Stone to his chest like a lifeline. His green eyes—already flashing faint traces of the Hulk beneath—were filled not with anger, but with fear, with pleading.
Alex looked at him, gaze cold and utterly unmoved. "I'm sorry."
Thud!
With a sound like a thunderclap, Alex's figure blurred and then slammed forward. His iron fist cut the air apart as he drove it toward Banner with ruthless precision.
Banner roared and, at the last second, swung his fist as well. If Alex was going to force his hand, then the Hulk would answer.
Boom!
Their fists collided, and the shockwave tore up the ground around them, sending shards of concrete and twisted metal raining outward. The collision rattled Banner's bones. He felt the Hulk straining inside him, fighting to break free—but even with the green giant's strength, he was hopelessly overmatched.
Alex's power crushed through him like a mountain falling on a man.
Banner was sent hurtling backward, smashing into the ground with bone-jarring force. He scrambled back up, teeth bared, and swung again. But Alex was merciless.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Each blow landed like a meteor. Banner tried to fight, tried to transform fully into the Hulk, but Alex was relentless. With every strike, Alex forced him down further, suppressing the beast's rage with sheer overwhelming might.
In moments, Banner was sprawled on the ground, battered and broken, groaning as he coughed up blood. He lay there helpless, as powerless as he had been against Thanos on the Asgardian ship.
"No… Homelander…!" His voice cracked with despair. He could only watch as Alex walked past him, step by deliberate step, each footfall echoing like a death knell.
Alex's shadow fell over the case. He bent down, his fingers brushing the smooth surface of the container.
"Don't worry," Alex said lightly, not even glancing back at Banner. "I'll return it."
With that casual promise, he pressed the button on the wrist device strapped to his arm.
Swish!
Light engulfed him. And just like that, he was gone.
---
"Banner! Where's the Homelander?"
"God, don't tell me it's what we think!"
"The stone—Banner, the stone!"
"Oh God, no…"
Voices shouted over one another as the remaining Avengers rushed in, weapons still drawn, eyes wide with panic. They found Banner bloodied on the floor, chest heaving with ragged breaths. The answer was written all over his broken body.
Silence crashed over the room. Despair etched itself onto their faces. No one needed to ask again. They all knew.
The Time Stone was gone.
Their only fragile hope now was the faint promise that Homelander would one day return it.
---
Meanwhile, in another world, Alex reappeared on Krakoa. The second his boots touched the soil, his eyes blazed with anticipation. His pulse thundered.
"Hank—lab. Now." His voice was sharp, commanding, yet laced with excitement.
Within minutes, Hank had gathered his team. Charles, Erik, Raven, and the others arrived as well, drawn by the urgency of Alex's summons. Together they crowded into the lab, where the console bathed the room in a dazzling, multicolored glow.
There they lay—the six Infinity Stones, each one radiating power, each shimmering with its own distinct hue. The air itself seemed to thrum, vibrating with barely-contained energy.
Gasps rippled through the group. Excitement surged. After years of struggle, blood, and sacrifice, the impossible had been achieved.
"All six stones…" Raven whispered, her eyes wide with awe.
"It's real," Erik muttered, his lips curling in a mixture of wonder and grim satisfaction.
Charles said nothing, but the tremor in his hands betrayed his feelings.
Alex stood before them, gaze locked on the stones. His chest swelled with pride. His plan was at last complete.
Without hesitation, he reached for the golden Infinity Gauntlet resting on the console. The metal gleamed ominously, waiting. One by one, Alex lifted each stone and set it into place.
Click.
Click.
Click.
The Mind, the Power, the Reality, the Space, the Soul, and at last—the Time.
Hum!
The moment the sixth stone locked in, the entire lab shook. Energy erupted in a tidal wave, flooding Alex's body, threatening to tear him apart from within. His muscles strained, his skin glowed, his veins lit like molten fire. The sheer force was enough to obliterate a weaker man instantly.
For a moment, agony lanced through him, a storm of infinite power trying to rip his existence apart.
But then—it settled.
His body, far superior to Thanos's, adapted. His frame steadied, the pain receding into something else—something intoxicating.
"This feeling…" Alex's lips curled into a slow, astonished smile. "It's like being an omnipotent god."
Power coursed through him, limitless and absolute. At a thought, he could feel the threads of reality itself bending, awaiting his command. Creation, destruction, alteration—all of it rested in the palm of his hand.
For the first time, Alex truly felt that the universe itself was his to command.
He cast his senses outward, and they expanded, stretching past Krakoa, past Earth, into the void of space. And then he felt it—the Celestial embryo slumbering deep within Earth's core. Its heartbeat echoed in his mind, steady, immense, terrifying in its potential.
Although still an infant, the sheer weight of its existence filled him with awe. For the first time, he comprehended the immensity of the Celestial race.
"At least," he murmured inwardly, "we no longer need to fear Arishem's experiments on the mutants. Not for now."
Relief flickered through him. Even if Arishem discovered Alex's unique gift of absorbing cosmic energy, things would no longer be so simple. With all six stones, Alex was a deterrent in his own right.
But relief was fleeting. His brow furrowed as new concerns settled in.
The problem of Arishem was only one piece of the puzzle. The far greater threat was the Celestial within the Earth itself.
Earth was a seedbed. And when that seed hatched, the planet would be destroyed. Every life—mutant and human alike—would be snuffed out.
Even now, with the stones blazing on his hand, Alex hesitated. Could he fight Arishem? Perhaps. Could he fight an entire race of Celestials if he killed one of their kind? That was suicide.
"Unwise," he whispered to himself. His mind flashed with the grim image of challenging gods older than galaxies. Even with omnipotence at his fingertips, he knew better.
The Eternals, according to the story, were destined to handle the threat. They would destroy the newborn Celestial. That was the plan written in fate.
But Alex had already twisted too many threads of destiny. Could he trust this timeline to hold? Could he gamble the survival of his entire race on the hope that the Eternals would succeed?
What if they failed?
He imagined the Earth splitting open, fire consuming oceans, continents shattered as the infant Celestial tore free. His jaw tightened.
No, he needed a backup plan.
If the Eternals succeeded, all was well. But if they failed, then mutants needed an escape route. They would need another world, another sanctuary.
Immigration.
The thought tasted bitter, yet it was the only logical conclusion.
Alex let out a short, wry laugh, shaking his head. "It seems this is the only way."
Before the Celestial grew too powerful, before the Earth reached its breaking point, they would have to find another planet fit for life and prepare.
If Earth survived, they would stay. If not, then at least his people would not perish with it.
The long-term plan settled heavily in his heart. But before preparing for exodus, Alex knew there was something else he needed to do. Some… realities that still needed altering.
And with six stones burning at his command, there was nothing he could not attempt.
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