Deep Space. The Edge of a Solar System.
The void stretched endlessly, a vast, consuming blackness speckled with dying stars.
Amid the cosmic silence, a shadow loomed—a ship so massive it swallowed the surrounding starlight.
The Sanctuary II, a floating fortress, drifted like a god's chariot at the edge of the solar system, watching. Waiting.
Inside, the throne room pulsed with an eerie, alien glow. Towering pillars of obsidian twisted upward, carved with cryptic glyphs that pulsed faintly, as though whispering secrets of forgotten gods.
The atmosphere was thick, oppressive—time itself seemed to move slower here, bound by an unseen force.
At the center of it all, a throne of black stone sat atop a raised platform.
A figure rested upon it, unmoving, draped in darkness. His skin, a deep, cracked purple, caught the dim light, emphasizing the sharp contours of his form. His eyes, cold and golden, burned with a patience that had outlasted empires.
Thanos.
The Titan's gaze was fixed upon a swirling projection before him—a cosmic display of blue energy, flickering and twisting like a captured storm. The residual signature of the Tesseract. The Space Stone's power left ripples in reality itself, and Thanos could see them.
"Fascinating," his deep voice rumbled, reverberating through the chamber.
Footsteps echoed. A figure approached, moving with reverence and unease.
Cloaked in tattered, dark robes, his skeletal features stretched into a permanent grimace.
The Other, Thanos's most devoted servant, fell to one knee at the base of the throne.
"My Lord," The Other rasped, his voice dry as the void. "The Tesseract… is beyond our reach. The Asgardian has taken it."
Thanos did not move.
"Thor," he murmured, the name rolling off his tongue like an afterthought. "Predictable."
The Other hesitated. "And yet… there is another disturbance."
At this, Thanos's gaze shifted ever so slightly. The Other, emboldened, continued.
"A different energy signature has appeared, faint… but unnatural. It is neither Asgardian nor Kree, nor anything the cosmos has yet recognized."
The Other lifted his bony fingers, and the projection before them shifted—chaotic strands of energy flickered in and out of existence, unstable yet… evolving.
"It resists classification, yet it bears the taint of Infinity itself."
Thanos watched the energy coil and twist, adapting, refining itself. This was no mere anomaly. This was something new.
"Stark," Thanos said at last, the name spoken without emotion, yet weighted with meaning.
The Other flinched at the name, his distaste evident.
"He meddles. A mortal with intellect and wisdom beyond the norm that he should not possess," The Other hissed. "A temporary inconvenience."
Thanos finally moved, shifting in his throne. His massive fingers tapped against the armrest in thought.
"Mortal," he repeated, his lips curling slightly, amusement flickering in his golden eyes. "If only the universe were so simple."
A pause. Then, he exhaled, a slow, measured breath.
"Let them believe they have won."
The projection dissolved into nothingness, leaving only darkness. The throne room seemed colder now, the silence heavier.
Then, Thanos lifted his right hand.
The dim light caught the dull gleam of golden metal. A gauntlet, ancient and incomplete, adorned his fingers. Empty sockets lined its surface, waiting, hungering.
But two of the sockets already had its gems.
A quiet smirk played on his lips.
"I am inevitable."
The void beyond the ship stretched endlessly.
========End of Volume 3==========
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