-Real World-
"Oh my God! What kind of monsters are these?" Scott Lang couldn't help swallowing hard as he watched the Outriders tear through Wakandan defenses. The sheer ferocity and numbers were overwhelming.
Nebula's expression was grim, her cybernetic enhancements whirring softly as she recalled painful memories. "These are the Outriders. They are Thanos's vanguard troops—biological weapons bred solely for conquest. They are massive in number, and this is just the cargo of one ring ship. Thanos has entire armadas of vessels carrying these creatures."
Maria Hill's face was grave as she analyzed the tactical situation unfolding on screen. "This battle is going to be brutal. Without the barrier, they're forced into close-quarters combat. And fighting on home soil means Wakanda can't use their most powerful weapons without destroying their own infrastructure."
Pietro Maximoff frowned, his enhanced perception allowing him to see just how outmatched the defenders were. "Without someone like Thor or Carol in this kind of large-scale battle, it's nearly impossible to turn the tide. I could handle a few dozen at my speed, but thousands?" He shook his head. "Even I have limits."
Scott nodded in agreement. "And guys like Cap who don't have powers? They're going to be fighting for their lives with every second."
The weight of what they were watching settled over them like a shroud.
-Broadcast-
As T'Challa's order was relayed to the command center, Captain America and the other warriors braced themselves. This was it—the moment when strategy gave way to survival.
"Wakanda forever!" T'Challa's voice rang out across the battlefield, and every warrior present echoed the cry. The Wakandan soldiers at the front line retracted their energy cloaks in perfect synchronization, weapons raised and ready.
T'Challa strode to the forefront of his army, looking out across the barrier at the seething mass of alien monstrosities. His voice carried the weight of kingship, of sacrifice, of pride in his people. "Wakanda forever!"
The Black Panther suit materialized across his body in a ripple of advanced nanotechnology, purple energy coursing through the vibranium weave. Around him, his warriors roared their battle cry, voices united in defiance.
T'Challa pressed his earpiece one final time. "Now!"
A section of the barrier flickered and vanished, creating a gap perhaps fifty meters wide. It was a calculated risk—large enough to funnel the enemy into a kill zone, small enough to be defensible.
The Outriders didn't hesitate. The moment the opening appeared, they surged toward it like water finding a crack in a dam, their inhuman shrieks filling the air.
The Wakandan warriors charged forward to meet them, spears and energy weapons raised high. The sound of thousands of boots thundering across the grassland mixed with war cries in Xhosa and English. Captain America and T'Challa, both enhanced beyond normal human limits, quickly outpaced the others. They pulled ahead of the formation, their speed allowing them to reach the breach first.
They leaped across a shallow river that marked the barrier's edge, water splashing around them as they crashed directly into the first wave of Outriders.
Captain America wielded the new vibranium shields T'Challa had given him—sleeker than his old shield, but just as deadly. He slammed the edge into an Outrider's skull, feeling the satisfying crunch of alien bone. Spinning, he blocked a claw strike with one shield while driving the other into another creature's chest.
Beside him, T'Challa was a whirlwind of claws and fury. His vibranium talons sliced through Outrider flesh like paper, black blood spraying with each strike. He ducked under a lunging attack, spun, and raked his claws across the creature's exposed belly, dropping it instantly.
Behind them, the Wakandan forces collided with the Outrider horde in a thunderous crash of bodies, weapons, and screams. The battle entered a white-hot frenzy within seconds.
Dora Milaje warriors fought with spears and skill, their training allowing them to hold their own despite being physically outmatched. Border Tribe fighters swung electrified clubs, each impact sending arcs of blue electricity through alien bodies. The King's Guard formed tight defensive circles, protecting wounded warriors while maintaining offensive pressure.
But the casualties mounted quickly. For every Outrider killed, it seemed two more took its place. Wakandan warriors were dragged down by sheer numbers, overwhelmed by claws and teeth. The grass became slick with blood—both red and black.
Captain America fought with desperate efficiency, but even his enhanced abilities were being tested. He crushed an Outrider's skull with his shield, only to be immediately attacked by two more. He blocked one, struck another, but they kept coming. The situation was deteriorating rapidly.
T'Challa noticed the mounting losses, saw his people dying around him. He tore his claws through an Outrider's throat and immediately raised his wrist comm. "Shuri! How much longer?"
In the lab far behind the battle lines, Shuri was surrounded by holographic displays, her fingers moving with incredible speed. Precision laser scalpels were slowly separating the Mind Stone's neural connections from Vision's synthetic tissue, but the work was painstakingly delicate. "I've barely begun, brother!"
T'Challa ducked under a swipe that would have decapitated him and countered with a vicious upward slash. "You need to work faster!"
"I'm working as fast as I can without killing him!" Shuri snapped back, but her hands moved even quicker. The laser beams danced across the Mind Stone's connection points, severing microscopic pathways one by one. The three-dimensional neural map rotated before her eyes as she worked, searching for the optimal sequence.
Time was running out, and everyone knew it.
-Broadcast-
Light-years away on the dead forge of Nidavellir, Thor floated before the focusing iris—the mechanical aperture that channeled the neutron star's unimaginable power. The structure was massive, easily the size of a small building, its metal surfaces scarred by centuries of use and recent neglect.
Thor took a deep breath, filling his lungs one last time. He looked into the blazing heart of the dying star beyond the iris and whispered, "All-fathers... give me strength."
From the foundry platform, Eitri called out desperately, trying one last time to stop this suicide. "You understand, boy? You're about to take the full force of a star. It will kill you!"
Thor's voice was calm, accepting. "Only if I die."
"Yes. That's what... killing you means," Eitri said, exasperated and terrified for the young god.
But Thor had made his choice. His hands gripped the massive control levers on either side of the iris mechanism, each one as thick as a tree trunk. With a roar of effort, he pulled them downward.
The ancient mechanisms groaned and screeched, ice cracking off gears that hadn't moved in years. Slowly, agonizingly, the iris began to open.
Light erupted through the widening gap—not ordinary light, but the concentrated power of a neutron star. The beam was pure white energy, so bright it seemed to erase color itself from existence. It struck Thor directly, the full force of stellar fusion channeled through his body.
"AAAAAHHHH!" Thor's scream was primal, a sound of agony that no living being should have to make. Every nerve in his body was on fire. His skin began to char and crack. His eye socket, already scarred from Hela's cruelty, wept blood that instantly vaporized in the heat. But his hands remained locked on the levers, his godly strength the only thing keeping the iris open.
The beam continued through Thor and struck the forge, its temperature climbing into the millions of degrees. The entire foundry blazed to life, systems roaring as they fulfilled their ancient purpose once more.
"Hold on, Thor! Hold on!" Eitri ran to the forge, his massive hands working controls with practiced precision despite years of disuse.
Inside the crucible, the Uru metal began to glow. First red, then orange, then yellow, climbing through the spectrum toward white. The legendary metal—the same substance that had formed Mjolnir, that had created weapons for Asgardian kings—was finally melting, becoming liquid starlight.
Thor's consciousness was fading. The pain had transcended pain, becoming something else entirely—a white void where thought could barely exist. His muscles operated on pure instinct now, locked in place, refusing to let go even as his body was systematically destroyed by forces that could vaporize planets.
Blood poured from his nose and mouth. His remaining eye had rolled back in his head. Steam rose from his skin where moisture was being boiled away. But still he held on.
"Come on! Come on!" Eitri shouted at the metal, willing it to melt faster. Finally, mercifully, the Uru reached its melting point. The solid metal became glowing liquid, swirling in the crucible like molten sun.
Eitri grabbed the massive wheel that controlled the crucible's tilt. With a grunt of effort, he spun it, and the container tipped. Glowing liquid Uru poured out in a stream of white-hot metal, flowing into the prepared mold of the Stormbreaker axe.
At that exact moment, Thor's strength finally gave out. His hands slipped from the levers, his body going completely limp. The stellar beam struck him one final time with full force, and he was blasted backward like a ragdoll. His body tumbled through space, carried by the momentum of the explosion, spinning end over end toward the star ring.
He collided with a support pillar with bone-breaking force, then caromed off and fell onto the ring's surface, sliding to a stop. He didn't move. Didn't breathe.
Inside the M-Ship, Groot looked up from his handheld game, his eyes widening as he saw Thor's motionless body. "I am Groot?"
"Thor!" Rocket gunned the engines, sending the ship racing toward where Thor had fallen. He brought the craft alongside the fallen god and leaped out, his small form racing across the metal surface. "Say something! Thor!" He reached Thor's side, pressing his paws against the god's massive chest. "Come on! Wake up! Thor!"
There was no response. Thor's skin was blackened and cracked, his body still smoking from the stellar heat. His chest didn't rise or fall.
"Thor, you okay?" Rocket pressed his ear to Thor's chest, listening desperately for a heartbeat.
Nothing.
In the foundry, Eitri pulled the mold from the forge using massive tongs. He set it on the ground, and portions of the outer casing crumbled away from the impact. Not waiting, Eitri raised his enormous fist and brought it down, shattering the rest of the mold completely.
The pieces fell away, revealing what lay inside—the axe blade, gleaming and perfect, and the axe head, its crescent shape beautiful and deadly. Both pieces glowed with residual heat, etched with intricate patterns that seemed to move in the light.
"He's dead," Rocket said quietly, his voice breaking. His paw remained on Thor's chest, feeling nothing. "I think he's dead."
Eitri looked down at the two pieces of Stormbreaker, then back toward where Thor lay. His voice was hoarse with emotion and urgency. "We need the handle! Tree, get me a handle for the axe!"
Groot stood frozen, staring at Thor's lifeless form. The god who had been so vital, so strong, now looked small and broken. The game console slipped from Groot's fingers, clattering to the metal surface.
His expression hardened with sudden resolve. "I am Groot."
He raised his left arm, focusing his consciousness into the living wood. A thick branch began to extend from his limb, growing rapidly, stretching across the distance toward the axe pieces. The branch split, reaching for both the blade and the head.
The moment the living wood touched the superheated metal, Groot felt agony unlike anything he'd experienced. His bark was burning, the wood chars instantly. He cried out in pain—"AAAAAH!"—his young voice cracking with the intensity of it.
But he didn't stop. Gritting his teeth, tears forming in his eyes, Groot forced the branch to continue growing. It wrapped around the axe blade, around the crescent head, binding them together despite the searing heat. The wood smoked and charred, but it held, forming a handle that joined the two pieces into one weapon.
Groot raised both arms high, the axe held in his extended branch. With his right hand, he brought down a sharp chop, severing the branch from his body. The axe fell free, complete.
Stormbreaker lay on the ground, smoking slightly, its handle made of Groot's own living wood wrapped around Uru metal forged in starfire.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then Thor's fingers twitched.
His hand opened slightly, just a fraction. From across the ring, Stormbreaker responded. The axe trembled, then lifted into the air, rotating slowly. Lightning began to arc from its surface—not the golden lightning of Odin's bloodline, but something new. Blue-white electricity crackled across the blade, across the handle, growing in intensity.
The weapon flew across the distance, cutting through space like it was coming home.
And Thor's eye snapped open, blazing with power as Stormbreaker slammed into his waiting hand.