Max flew toward Earth from space, the blue orb in the darkness growing larger in his vision as he approached. He was returning from a quick trip to Xandar to get some food, because he and Odin had been craving Xandarian cuisine.
As Max neared Earth, he slowed down, watching it for a moment. Parts of the coastlines on all the continents were flooded, scarred and still in recovery. The damage was visible from orbit, entire regions transformed by rising waters that had not receded.
Max watched silently, then slowly descended toward the Himalayas, his trajectory carrying him over the altered world below.
It had been over a year since Zgreb the Celestial went mad and nearly destroyed the planet. They had barely defeated him and then imprisoned him within Olympus Mons on Mars.
But victory had not come without cost.
The battle in the Arctic had caused catastrophic ice melt. Massive glaciers that had existed for millennia were melted. The resulting global sea level rise had been devastating.
Max's eyes went to the British Isles as he passed over Europe. Where there had once been some remains of Doggerland, you could previously walk across the Channel through chest-high water at low tide in certain spots. Now the English Channel had completely formed.
Thousands upon thousands had died in the coastal flooding. Settlements that had existed for generations were now underwater. Communities were displaced. Lives destroyed.
They had tried their best to help with recovery where they could, but the damage had been done. You could not undo the displacement of entire populations, and you could not bring back those who had drowned in the initial floods.
Max continued his descent, and now he could see the Sanctuary below.
He had helped Agamotto expand it. The Sorcerer had begun looking for students, people with the potential to use magic, and had started training them in the mystic arts. So far, there were five of them.
Agamotto needed more people with his powers to finish his barrier project. He was also laying the groundwork for an entire order after Max gave him the idea of starting a formal group of mystics who would maintain the barrier once it was complete and continue Earth's magical protection for years to come. So yeah, he might have accidentally accelerated the formation of what would eventually become the Masters of the Mystic Arts by a decade or so.
There were other issues that arose after Zgreb. Unresolved matters that kept everyone on edge.
Like Uranos the Eternal, who had disappeared after battling Odin, Agamotto, and Ghost. And the armored man who had attacked them and then taken Uranos with him.
Max, along with everyone else, knew Mephisto was involved somehow. The Hell Lord had been too quiet, too absent for some time now. So every Avenger was on high alert, ready to assemble again at a moment's notice. They had even gone to visit the newly resurrected Eternals in the Exclusion and gathered all the information they could about the Mad Eternal.
Other than confirming how terrifyingly powerful he was, they had not learned much that was useful.
Uranos was out there somewhere. And he was unfinished business.
========
Max landed softly in the courtyard of the Sanctuary.
He walked toward where he knew Odin would be, the construct box with the food he had bought floating behind him.
"I can't believe you're watching this," he heard Firehair's voice say, sharp with disapproval.
An annoyed grunt from Odin followed.
Max found Odin lounging on a construct couch, one Max had made a week ago and the Asgardian had claimed as his personal throne. In front of him was a large construct screen displaying a massive battle happening in real time, armies clashing on a vast plain.
"This is horrible," Firehair said, her voice tight with barely contained anger. "Senseless death. We should be there stopping it."
"We were asked not to, remember?" Odin replied, not taking his eyes off the screen, where a warrior in golden armor was dueling another with supernatural skill.
Firehair's eyes blazed with fire. "Those gods are nothing compared to us. We could end this in minutes."
Odin raised his hands placatingly. "Calm down, calm down." He spotted Max entering and gestured. "Look, even your beloved agreed with me and the others. This is not something we should be involved in."
Firehair turned and saw Max. Her expression softened. "Max, this has gone on for too long. We must intervene. Thousands are dying each day..."
"This is not our fight, Red," Max said gently, setting the construct box down.
Odin spoke up, his attention momentarily diverted from the screen as he eyed the box. "Did you get the Kesh Pulsecakes?"
Firehair looked at Max, then at Odin, disbelief written across her face.
Agamotto walked in from the interior chambers. "Did you get the Veln Root?" he asked Max.
"Yes, yes," Max said, opening the box and tossing what they had both asked for to them. Odin caught the Pulsecakes with one hand, while Agamotto gracefully plucked the Veln Root from the air.
Agamotto then looked at the screen, studying the battle with interest. "Has Arjun killed Bhishma yet?"
Firehair made a disgusted sound.
"Ha! I'm pretty sure it's the old man's battle to win here," Odin said, biting into a Pulsecake. "The old warrior has fought off entire armies of men."
Firehair shot a glare at all three of them, especially at Max, then turned and flew away, Phoenix flames trailing behind her as she left the Sanctuary.
"Red!" Max called after her. "It's not our fight!"
"Let her go, Grænlaðr," Odin said. "Give her some time alone. She'll understand eventually."
Max shook his head and joined Odin on the couch.
For the last nine days, they had been watching what was unfolding on the Indian subcontinent: the Kurukshetra War.
It was the culmination of decades of family conflict, political maneuvering, and more. The Pandavas and their cousins, the Kauravas, were battling for the right to rule the Kuru Kingdom, one of the biggest and strongest on the continent at that time.
The screen showed the battlefield: hundreds of thousands of soldiers, chariots, elephants, and divine weapons from the Daevas being deployed.
Max was very excited to see it. Yes, it was bloody. Yes, it was a tragic affair filled with tremendous death and destruction, something the Avengers would normally step in to stop. But when the avatar of Vishnu himself had personally told them not to intervene, and several other Daevas had echoed that request, it was not something you argued with.
Also, this was a conflict between kingdoms, a civil war over rightful succession. The Avengers had no business there. They only intervened when innocents were directly threatened or when cosmic-level threats emerged.
That still did not make it easy to watch.
All three of them watched as Arjun hesitated on the battlefield, his bow wavering as he faced his grand-uncle Bhishma.
"He's going to do it, trust me," Max said, remembering parts of the Mahabharata.
They watched as Krishna himself grew angry at Arjun's reluctance. The avatar of Vishnu, who had sworn an oath not to take up weapons in this war, suddenly leaped from the chariot, his divine form blazing with power. He began striding toward Bhishma, clearly intent on killing the old warrior himself, oath be damned.
Odin laughed, slapping his knee. "I told you this would happen! The avatar has had enough!"
Max leaned forward, watching intently as Arjun panicked, running after Krishna and literally begging him, grabbing at his robes and throwing himself at Krishna's feet, pleading with the avatar not to break his sacred oath of nonviolence.
Finally, Arjun swore an oath that he would kill Bhishma tomorrow. No more hesitation. No more mercy.
Krishna stopped, turned, and returned to the chariot without a word.
The battle for the day was over with that declaration. Well, mostly. There were still some engagements. Bhima, the second brother of the Pandavas and the strongest among them, was crushing more of the hundred Kaurava siblings with his bare hands and massive mace, roaring like a bear as he tore through enemy lines.
"That second son is the one to watch out for," Odin said, pointing at the large man on the screen. "He is the best among them, strongest, fiercest, most determined."
This had kind of become like a reality TV show to them. Ghost was with them until Tasi saw elephants being killed and got upset, so he had left. Nur had his own screen back at his home and sometimes called in when big fights happened. Fan and Vnn were away in the savage land, Azzuri was a king so was too busy ruling, Firehair hated the war happening so for now it was just them three here.
Max was about to respond when one of Agamotto's students, a young woman named Kamala, ran up to them, panting.
"Master Agamotto," she said breathlessly. "A golden eagle came and dropped this letter off."
Agamotto took it immediately, performing detection spells and checking for curses, compulsions, or mystical traps. Satisfied it was safe, he opened it and read.
Max glanced over and recognized the script as Sanskrit, reading it easily. The letter was from Krishna, requesting an audience with him.
"Well, it's for you," Agamotto said, handing the letter to Max.
Max took it, and Odin leaned over to read as well, his eye scanning the elegant script.
"Haha! So now he wants our help!" Odin said triumphantly. "I told you this would happen."
Max shook his head. "I don't think so, my friend. He just wants to meet me for some reason. The letter doesn't mention the war or ask for intervention."
"Yes, he sent you, you, the leader of the Avengers, a letter," Odin countered. "Of course he is asking for help. I mean, the war is not exactly going their way, is it?"
"I don't know," Max said, already beginning to float upward, the letter still in his hand. "I'm going to see what this is all about."
"I'll come as well," Odin said, standing and reaching for Mjolnir.
"No," Agamotto interjected firmly. "He asked for Max, and Max only."
Max nodded, then looked at Odin seriously. "Maybe he does want our help. Be prepared."
Odin grinned, lightning crackling around him. "Aye! It's been some time since we had a good fight."
"Like the Celestial wasn't enough?" Agamotto said dryly.
Max laughed, then flew up into the sky, higher and higher until the Sanctuary was just a speck below. Then he turned south, toward the war. Toward whatever the avatar of Vishnu wanted with him.
.
.
.
Max arrived at the place where the war was happening.
It was evening, and the fighting was done for the day. The wounded were being treated, healers moving between groaning soldiers, priests chanting prayers, battlefield surgeons doing what they could. The dead were being gathered and given their final rites, pyres already burning across both camps, smoke rising into the darkening sky.
It was a bloodbath. So many men were dead, bodies laid out in rows that seemed endless. Elephants were dead, the massive war beasts that had carried warriors into battle now lying still, their handlers weeping beside them. Horses were dead too, noble steeds that had charged fearlessly now silent.
Max flew over the carnage, his heart heavy, and moved toward where Jade had sensed Krishna was. The avatar stood near a body of water, away from the Pandava camp, isolated from the armies.
Max hovered for a moment, watching. The dark-skinned man, wearing simple robes and a peacock feather in his crown, was speaking to five others. The Pandava brothers, Max realized.
Krishna said something Max could not hear, then gestured gently. The five brothers bowed and departed, heading back toward their camp. As they left, their eyes fell on Max, worried.
When they were gone, Krishna turned and looked directly at Max.
Max descended and landed on the grass beside the water.
"Got your letter," Max said.
"So you did," Krishna replied, his voice calm and musical.
"War going well?" Max asked.
Krishna smiled slightly. "As well as any war goes. Men die. Others live. Tomorrow, more will die. This is the nature of war."
"That's not really an answer," Max said.
"It is the only answer war has," Krishna replied. "Victory and defeat are perspectives, Max. From the Pandavas' view, we struggle against overwhelming odds. From the Kauravas' view, they defend what they believe is rightfully theirs. Each side tells itself a story of righteousness. But dharma itself is not divided. One side clings to it with trembling hands. The other turned away long ago, though it still mouths its name."
Max looked toward the battlefield, though he already knew the answer. Still, he asked, "I feel like all this could have been avoided. Thousands are dying every day. By the end of this war, there will be nothing left. There will be no winners."
Krishna was quiet for a long moment, looking up at the sky where the first stars were beginning to appear.
"Tell me, Max," he finally said. "When you look at the forest behind you, what do you see?"
Max blinked and turned to glance at the treeline. "What?"
"A forest," Krishna repeated patiently. "What do you see?"
"Trees. Plants. Animals..."
"And in winter, when the leaves fall and the forest seems to die?"
"It's not really dying, is it?"
"Exactly." Krishna smiled. "But what if a single leaf, falling from a branch, could think? Could feel? What would it say as it tumbled toward the earth?"
"It would… say… it's… dying," Max said slowly.
"Yes. From the leaf's perspective, it is the end. Death. Failure. Loss." Krishna's eyes gleamed in the fading sunlight. "But from the forest's perspective, it is transformation. Necessary. The leaf returns to the soil. Its nutrients feed new growth. Without death, without that ending, there can be no spring."
"These aren't leaves, though," Max said quietly. "They're people."
"Are they different?" Krishna asked, his tone still gentle. "Surely you understand. Nothing is truly lost. Everything transforms. The soul is eternal, Max. It cannot be cut by weapons, burned by fire, drowned by water, or dried by wind. What dies here is only the body, the temporary vessel."
Max felt a philosophical lesson coming, and he wasn't sure he was ready for it.
"This age, the age of gods walking among men, must end. Kali Yuga must come. The age of darkness, of materialism, of separation from the divine. The gods will no longer interfere here as we have." His voice was matter of fact, neither sad nor cruel.
"The Daevas are… leaving?" Max asked.
Krishna nodded. "Yes. There will be forces that will soon keep them all away."
Max's brow furrowed. "Forces..."
"You fought one of them," Krishna interrupted gently.
Oh, Max thought.
"That was a great service to this world," Krishna continued, his voice carrying genuine gratitude.
They spoke more about the Daevas' plans to interact with the world less and less in the coming centuries. Soon, the conversation drifted back to the war. Max did like talking with the avatar, as he had done many times before during his visits to the city of Dvaraka, but sometimes the man could be very cryptic.
"This war… it is terrible, yes. Much will be lost. I myself will leave this world soon after this war concludes."
"It still seems like a cruel way to teach that lesson," Max said quietly.
"Do you think this does not weigh on me? These men chose their paths. Duryodhana chose greed and pride over righteousness. The Pandavas chose duty and dharma over easy peace. Every warrior here made choices, some noble, some base, and now those choices bear fruit, good or ill."
"Karma," Max said.
"Karma," Krishna agreed. "Action and consequence. Cause and effect. The universe's way of teaching. If I intervened, if I prevented every consequence, what would anyone learn? How would anyone grow? Would it be merciful to save a man from the consequences of his greed, only to have him be greedy forever?"
He paused.
"But enough of that," Krishna said, his tone shifting subtly. "Now to why you are really here."
"Odin is hoping you want us to join the war," Max said with a slight smile. "He's been itching for a good fight."
Krishna shook his head with a smile, then his expression grew serious, the playfulness fading from his eyes.
"There is a powerful being, one much like your friend and fellow avenger En Sabah Nur, plotting something nefarious," Krishna said. "She is near the city of Hastinapura. What she plots, I do not know, but it is nothing good. I can feel the disturbance, the wrongness of her intentions."
Max narrowed his eyes. "Who is this being?"
"I would have investigated properly myself," Krishna said, gesturing back toward the battlefield, "but as you can see, My duty binds me here at the moment. Nine days of war, and at least nine more to come. I cannot abandon the Pandavas now, not when Bhishma still stands and the outcome remains uncertain."
He looked at Max. "I ask you to investigate. Find out what this being is plotting. Stop it if you can."
"That's all you've got for me? A vague 'powerful being' near Hastinapura?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Krishna admitted.
Max nodded slowly. "I'll look into it."
He began to float upward.
"Lantern," Krishna called up to him. "Thank you."
Max paused, looking down at the avatar, the peacock feather in his crown bright in the fading light.
"Good luck with tomorrow," Max said. "And the rest of the war."
Krishna smiled. "Luck has little to do with it. But I appreciate the sentiment."
Max flew away, rising higher into the darkening sky, heading toward Hastinapura, wondering who this mysterious woman was, who also happened to be a mutant.