Suramar—once the glorious capital of the Night Elven empire—now lay completely sealed beneath a shimmering purple arcane barrier. Ever since a paladin broke through with a magical artifact, the city's defenses had become more formidable than ever. Arcane sentries capable of detecting invisibility now patrolled every street and alley.
Of course, none of this posed any challenge for Garus. He had no intention of sneaking in.
Though unfamiliar with Suramar's layout, Garus immediately spotted a spatial rift somewhere in the city—one that connected to the far reaches of the cosmos. On the other side, he sensed the presence of a powerful entity.
...
Atop the Nightspire, the highest tower in Suramar, a tear in the fabric of the Void shimmered into view.
Grand Magistrix Elisande, Suramar's current ruler, knelt before it, her head bowed low.
"Great Lord Sargeras, Gul'dan has fallen. He was struck down by a paladin who appeared without warning. Not even his soul escaped."
"Paladin?" Sargeras paused.
The image of Turalyon flashed through his mind. That faction of holy warriors had long plagued the Burning Legion, even managing to recondition a dreadlord into a Lightforged demon.
"Impossible. None of them should pose a threat to—wait. Someone's here!"
Elisande, too, sensed the city under siege. As she looked up, she saw a colossal blade crash against the arcane barrier overhead.
Strike after strike, the enchanted shield fractured—then shattered completely.
"Well, it seems we have a guest," Sargeras said coldly. "Let's hope you don't meet Gul'dan's fate. Otherwise, you and your entire race will forfeit your place in the Burning Legion—and I will erase your world along with you."
The Void rift vanished.
Elisande stood, her fury barely restrained. "Summon the magi! We'll—"
Before she could finish, the ground quaked violently beneath her feet. The heart of the city collapsed into a cloud of smoke and rubble, sending terrified elves scattering in all directions.
At the center of it all was a massive Garus, wielding an equally gigantic Frostmourne, cutting through buildings as if they were made of paper. Magical attacks slammed into him—but they felt like little more than a summer breeze.
Garus gazed up toward the Nightspire. Sargeras had already departed—he likely couldn't cross over yet.
From a distance, Elisande looked into the dead, icy glow of Garus's eyes and the way her magical wards crumbled like tofu before his blade. A sense of helplessness gripped her.
So this is the one who killed Gul'dan? He didn't look like a paladin—he was far more terrifying than she ever imagined.
With a roar of frost-laden wind, Garus carved a direct path to the Nightspire.
"Time…"
Elisande, her body already numbed by the cold, began to cast her time magic—but before she could finish, a flash of green light struck her. In an instant, her body aged rapidly, crumbling into a pile of ash.
"Is that… Garus?"
The Knights of the Silver Hand, just arriving in Suramar, stopped in their tracks as they took in the destruction. They watched as Garus reached the Nightspire, reached out—and ripped the sky open with his bare hands, revealing a hellish firmament aflame with Fel fire.
The rift widened.
All across Azeroth, the world's strongest champions could feel the immense surge of demonic energy—and each of them turned pale.
"You should not be here, mortal!"
Sargeras had never imagined anyone would tear through reality to reach him. He stood before the fully open gateway to Azeroth, the planetary defenses in ruin, and… he smiled.
He summoned his weapon—the dread blade Dark Boil, flames roaring along its edge. This time, he wouldn't underestimate Garus.
His first strike was full-force—no reservations. The very flame that had once slain Aman'Thul, Highfather and leader of the Pantheon, engulfed Garus entirely.
But before Sargeras could celebrate his apparent victory, he was suddenly blasted backward, his massive form flung tens of thousands of meters through space.
To Garus, Sargeras was no match at all—barely more than a punching bag.
The mightiest Titan stared in stunned disbelief at his own weapon now impaled in his chest. And then… he smiled.
"It's been millennia. Perhaps it's time I rested. Boy… someday, you'll understand. This world, corrupted by the Old Gods, must be cleansed. But with you here, I believe the Void Lords may yet be stopped."
Sargeras's body ignited in a final burst of flame. But this time, he didn't flee back into the Void—he vanished from this world entirely.
Void Lords? What the hell are those?
Garus was puzzled, though the mention of the Old Gods did remind him of N'Zoth, still lurking near the Maelstrom of Azeroth.
Before leaving, he noticed Dark Boil—an artifact of terrifying power. Though not as versatile as the Infinity Stones, its raw destructive potential far exceeded that of Frostmourne. A worthy collector's piece.
That day, all life on Azeroth remained blissfully unaware that its two greatest threats—Sargeras and N'Zoth—had been neutralized.
Sargeras had fallen. N'Zoth had been miniaturized and flung into Garus's private pocket universe.
Yet peace would remain elusive. The hatred between the Horde and Alliance ran too deep. Their endless conflict would rage on, the shadow of Y'Shaarj's ancient malice still staining every soul on Azeroth.
"Garus, where are we going next?"
Yuria and Aesh, who had somehow followed Garus from the Silver Hand's camp, now stood beside him. He wasn't planning on going back—too much trouble.
"How should I know..." Garus muttered, then suddenly remembered something.
Tirion Fordring's son, Taelan Fordring, had died—a regret Garus had never quite shaken. But now, with the power to bring him back, he could at least set things right.
He brought the two women to a humble grave. Atop it lay a small toy hammer—Tirion's gift to his son.
Drawing on the combined power of the Infinity Stones and his own mastery of cosmic law, Garus resurrected Taelan from the long embrace of death.
They never spoke.
Garus simply passed on a mental imprint and laid the shrunken Dark Boil at Taelan's side. Before the young Fordring could even regain full consciousness, Garus had already vanished.
He traveled through quantum rift after rift—past the Dragon Ball universe, through the One Piece world…
But he didn't stop. His heart was set on home.
Eventually, they reached a realm of utter darkness. Nothingness stretched in every direction, oppressive and endless.
Garus felt his very thoughts begin to slip into sleep.
Suddenly, he jolted awake.
That was close. A cold sweat drenched his body. Looking over, he saw that both Yuria and Aesh had lost consciousness.
Garus had no choice but to place them inside the Fusion Universe. Fortunately, that universe existed within his own mind—he could carry it with him wherever he went.
Alone in this barren void, doubt gnawed at him.
Did I get lost?
But no—he could still sense the path forward.
He fought to stay conscious. Who knew how long he drifted before a faint light appeared on the horizon.
A familiar world emerged before him.
"Is that… the Zerg?"
No way… not again. What world is this this time?
Just as Garus braced himself for another dimensional leap, a familiar spacecraft shimmered into view before him. Its sleek, menacing design was unmistakable—this was a Burning Legion warship.
Driven by curiosity, he blinked onto the ship in a flash of arcane energy, only to find Deadpool lounging around like he was on vacation. A few other familiar faces—mutants from the Mutant Academy—were frantically operating the ship's controls, trying to evade a swarm of alien insectoids closing in on them.
"Wade? What the hell are you doing here?"
The sudden voice startled the crew. The ship rocked violently as a few enormous creatures slammed into the hull.
"Principal!" the young mutants shouted, breaking into joyous relief, rushing to him.
"Hold up—focus on flying the damn ship!" Deadpool waved them off, panicked. "Yeah, we might be immortal or whatever, but floating around in deep space? Not my idea of a good time."
Garus glanced around the interior. "Where's the severed head—the plague-infected one?"
"Threw it out," Wade replied casually, like it was a piece of trash.
Without another word, Garus looked out into the void. With a simple wave of his hand, the entire warship vanished from its current location and reappeared light-years away.
"Hey, Garus! Remember what I told you? About how we're all just characters in some goddamn comic book?" Deadpool shouted, animated as ever. "Well, you're gonna love this—we're literally in the universe where those sadistic editors live. But... it looks like they've got their own problems right now. I figured I'd wait till the bugs cleared out before going down to poke around."
Garus raised an eyebrow. That was interesting.
"Well then," he said, "let's pay that planet a visit. We might uncover something unexpected."
Before the invaders had even dispersed, Garus transported everyone directly down to Earth.
The scene awaiting them was apocalyptic. A hellscape.
Cities lay in ruins, engulfed in flames and warfare. Garus's eyes widened as he spotted Protoss and Zerg forces—straight out of the StarCraft universe—locked in a devastating clash across the landscape. Humanity's weapons were utterly ineffective against them.
"This… is my homeworld!?"
Garus unleashed his psionic senses, scanning the planet's surface. His heart caught in his chest.
It was his original world—the one he'd lived in before ever arriving in Azeroth. He could see his parents and sister alive, huddled in a fallout shelter, unaware of the chaos above them. They hadn't changed at all—time must flow differently here. Maybe only a few days had passed.
His heart surged with joy.
Yes. This is it. This is the world I've dreamed of returning to.
But that joy was swiftly eclipsed by rage.
These damn alien swarms... how dare they turn my home into a battleground?!
Fueled by fury, Garus floated high above Earth's atmosphere. The void around him shimmered, and from the dark recesses of space, legions of undead rose—an army of death—answering his silent command and descending upon the invaders with merciless precision.
Then, folding space around him, Garus vanished.
And reappeared beside his family.
"Dad! Mom! Sis!" he shouted, his voice breaking with emotion.
"Ga—Garus?" his mother whispered.
They stared in disbelief. Their son, who had vanished without a trace two years ago, was suddenly back—and utterly transformed. Older. Stronger. Stranger.
"It's me," he said, tears in his eyes.
—The End—
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Check out my other Marvel fanfic:
Marvel: What If Thanos Adopted A Saiyan?
Marvel: Building My Harem, Starting with the Scarlet Witch
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