Alex Ray had already arrived in the vast expanse of the universe. The battle unfolding here was far more brutal and overwhelming than any war fought on Earth.
Tens of thousands of beings clashed across the cosmic stage, their bodies darting through starlight like a divine dance across the fabric of space and time.
Warships surged like meteor showers, each carrying the power to annihilate. Their laser cannons cut blazing arcs across the void, only to erupt moments later in searing, short-lived explosions of light.
Each blast shook the stars, thunderous roars echoing through the vacuum as if the cosmos itself were screaming in agony.
"For Asgard!"
The cry rang out across the chaos. Asgardian warriors, clad in golden armor, charged into the fray with unwavering resolve. Their blades gleamed as they cut down enemies many times their number.
Victory burned in their eyes—not for conquest, but for love of their home. They stood tall, unyielding, even as the odds towered against them.
But the truth was clear.
Even if Alex Ray had held the advantage in Hell's Kitchen on Earth, bolstered by allies and strategy, out here in the endless void, the balance tipped away from him.
In space, Asgard was overmatched.
Alex had no grand cosmic fleet at his command. And he had far too many enemies.
At this moment, Asgard faced an alliance representing the full might of the cosmos.
Three major empires stood united: the Shi'ar Empire, the Kree Empire, and the Skrull Empire. Each one spanned entire galaxies, their populations numbering in the hundreds of billions. Their combined influence shook the very structure of the universe.
Any one of them could stand against Asgard alone.
Together? They were overwhelming.
Even so, they hadn't committed their full forces—only elite vanguards had been dispatched.
Yet that alone was enough to tip the scale.
Though the Asgardians were mighty—each warrior capable of felling ten enemies—their numbers were simply too few.
On Earth, Asgard's population might not even rival that of a small nation's province.
And this was before Hela's Death Army or the sealed Valkyrie Legion had even joined the fight.
But the pressure wasn't just from these three empires.
Asgard's ancestral enemies had emerged from the shadows: the Frost Giants, the Dark Elves, and the Olympian gods under Zeus. Each brought ancient power and unique sorcery, compounding the crisis into a perfect storm.
And yet, Asgard did not stand alone.
Reinforcements had arrived—chief among them the Guardians of the Galaxy and the Loki Variant Alliance.
These Guardians weren't limited to the team known from films. Heroes from across comic lore had rallied—Adam Warlock, Phyla-Vell, Agent Venom, Major Victory, Yondu, and others lent their might to the cause, each carving through the chaos with distinct precision.
The Loki Variant Alliance, led by Old Loki and Kid Loki, brought their own power.
Old Loki, long thought dead, returned with an army of mutated warriors bearing Loki's bloodline. Trickery, illusion, and raw magical force accompanied them.
Asgard had become the final shield protecting Earth.
Thor, the God of Thunder, and Hela, Goddess of Death, led the defense personally. Lightning and death energy surged across the battlefield as they tried to halt the encroaching flood.
But the coalition's assault was relentless—like a tide, wave after wave smashing against a crumbling wall.
Alex Ray stood suspended in the void, his gaze cutting through the smoke and fire. He could see it—the front lines, inching toward Earth. The movement was subtle, almost invisible to the naked eye. But it was happening. Every step lost meant countless lives extinguished.
Every inch of ground was paid for in blood.
King Odin—once the unshakable conqueror of the Nine Realms—now appeared worn and alone.
Surrounding him were three of his bitterest enemies: Laufey, the Ice King of the Frost Giants, wielding a cold that could snuff out suns; Malekith, ruler of the Dark Elves, master of illusion and shadow; and Zeus, king of the Olympian gods, radiating divine wrath and thunder.
The combined strength of the three ancient titans forced Odin to stay locked in a battle he could not afford to leave.
At that moment, Loki appeared beside Alex like a phantom.
"Why are you alone?" he demanded. "Where are Earth's reinforcements? Where are the Kamar-Taj mages?! Where are they?!"
But Alex remained silent, eyes focused on the distant void. There was both determination and sorrow in them.
It wasn't that he didn't want to help. He couldn't.
Something immense was locking him in place. Six presences from deep within the multiverse were closing in—six godlike beings moving like cosmic predators. One among them radiated an especially dreadful power.
Worse still, Alex could feel something deeper… something darker.
The Marvel Universe itself seemed to reject him. The hostility was visceral. The presence of the Five Great Cosmic Entities—and even the whisper of the One Above All—rushed toward him like a tidal wave of judgment, seeking to return all to chaos.
As for Kamar-Taj's sorcerers—they had already been deployed, locked in battles of their own.
Dormammu, the dread ruler of the Dark Dimension, and Malphite, a towering demon lord of the Hell Realm, had both emerged with armies to ravage Earth.
Doctor Strange and Professor X, leading Kamar-Taj's finest alongside mutant defenders, were locked in a brutal war on multiple fronts.
It was not a question of strength.
There were simply too many enemies.
This was no longer a war for territory. It was a war of existence—one Earth against the entire multiverse.
Alex's Earth had already survived two invasions—from the Main God Space's Reincarnators, and from the Kang Dynasty and Reed Council.
If they were to receive help now, it would only come when the Ancient One and his companions finished their battles against the forces of Kang and Reed.
Alex was desperately calculating his next move, seeking a way to break the deadlock.
But fate would allow no pause.
The curtain of the universe split open—ripped violently as if by a god's hand.
What emerged was not a fleet or a weapon.
It was a planet.
A massive celestial body tore through the void like a meteorite, burning with apocalyptic energy. It radiated death and finality.
Upon it stood a solitary figure.
Clad in black robes, his eyes shimmered with equal parts madness and brilliance.
Alex's pupils shrank the moment he laid eyes on him.
He knew what he was looking at.
This was no ally.
This was not hope.
This was doom.
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Hiatus
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