The remaining Eternals—Sersi, Phastos, Makkari, and Druig—had not yet realized that Ikaris had also been attacked.
For now, they were still focused on finding a solution.
Sersi and Phastos were determined to stop the birth of the Celestial, while Makkari planned to stay and assist. Druig remained as well, not out of allegiance to the cause, but because of Makkari.
"So… just a few of us think we can stop our creator from being born?" Druig's voice was low, edged with skepticism.
Though he had chosen to stay, it didn't mean he agreed with Sersi's plan.
In his eyes, everything Sersi and the others were doing was pointless—futile resistance against an inevitable fate.
Phastos had proposed a method earlier, but it had quickly been dismissed.
That was when Sersi spoke up. "If we're out of options… what about the Illuminati?"
She looked around the room. "They protect Earth, too. This was Ajak's final directive."
"The Illuminati?" Druig scoffed. "Those mortals? Besides playing politics and chasing fame, what exactly are they capable of? If even we can't stop this, what good are they?"
His contempt for humanity made his disdain for the Illuminati drip from every word.
Phastos interjected, his tone more diplomatic. "I think Sersi has a point. But we can't abandon all angles. I'll stay and keep researching. Maybe there's something we've missed. You go find the Illuminati."
Makkari, who had been silent this entire time, hesitated as if she wanted to speak—but ultimately, she just nodded her agreement.
"Alright," Sersi said. "Makkari, you stay here with Phastos. I'll find the Illuminati myself."
With that, she turned and walked out, resolute and alone.
Phastos wasted no time. He dove into a pile of ancient tomes and scrolls, flipping through centuries of accumulated knowledge. Each page was steeped in the weight of cosmic history. Somewhere in that pile, he hoped, was the answer to preventing the emergence of Tiamut.
Makkari stood nearby. Her eyes shifted between Phastos, tirelessly working, and the dark, looming forest beyond the window.
Conflicted emotions played across her face—duty, curiosity, and the haunting pull of an unknown answer. She wanted to protect her people, but a deeper instinct urged her toward the unknown, toward the Illuminati… and toward him.
Behind her, Druig sat silently, his intense eyes locked on her like a watchful sentinel. Though he said nothing, his concern was palpable. He knew her well—better than she realized.
After a long pause, Makkari inhaled deeply. Her eyes sharpened with determination. Without a word, she turned and quietly left the room, as if answering a call only she could hear.
"Where are you going?"
The sudden voice—calm but commanding—echoed in her chest more than her ears.
Though she couldn't hear sound, she felt a firm hand rest gently on her shoulder.
Turning, she met Druig's gaze.
His expression was soft but knowing. He saw her clearly—saw everything she hadn't said.
The warmth in his eyes sent a flood of emotion through her. She looked almost guilty, like a child caught sneaking out.
She quickly raised her hands and signed, explaining that she just needed fresh air. Nothing more.
Druig smiled and shook his head, not buying it.
Then he responded in sign language: "Makkari, you're the bravest person I've ever met. Whatever you need to do—do it. I'll support you, always."
A soft smile spread across her face, touched with both gratitude and sadness.
Then Druig added, his hands forming familiar, precise gestures, "I'm guessing you want to go to Hell's Kitchen."
Makkari's eyes widened. Her hands paused mid-air, stunned. "How did you know?" her expression seemed to ask.
He just smiled.
Even without words, his meaning was clear: he knew her better than anyone.
"Even if I don't believe that mortal Alex Ray can really help," Druig signed, "if you've made up your mind to find him, then I'll go with you—no matter what."
His hands moved with quiet force, a physical expression of the unwavering faith he had in her. Each gesture conveyed something deeper than language: unconditional support.
Makkari's worry slowly melted beneath his calm.
In Druig's heart, he already knew—no matter how the world ended, if it came to that, he would stand with her.
Always.
Makkari wanted to go to Hell's Kitchen, to find Wanda Maximoff and the others—to tell them everything and ask for help.
But no one knew she had a connection to that place. No one knew she lived there.
How did Druig?
What she didn't realize was that Druig had quietly observed her for a long time.
He knew exactly what she was planning.
Makkari had been living in Hell's Kitchen for over a decade.
Recently, she'd taken up a job as an administrator at the Hell's Kitchen Library. A quiet post, perfect for someone who needed to move between worlds.
Now, she could only turn to Alex Ray.
From Druig's perspective, Makkari keeping this to herself made sense. Alex and Ikaris had clashed before—violently. She probably didn't want to bring it up, not after what happened.
She still felt guilty for not stopping Alex from breaking Ikaris's arm during that last confrontation.
Druig had been there, too, but he didn't blame her.
Even if he'd tried, Druig didn't believe he could have stopped Alex either. And he certainly wouldn't have helped Ikaris.
If blame lay anywhere, it was squarely on Ikaris and his arrogance.
Druig didn't like Alex Ray.
But if anyone could save Earth—it might be him.
Still, Druig wasn't convinced of Alex's strength. But he was fully convinced of one thing: he would support Makkari's decision, no matter what.
"Let's go," he signed, his gestures sure and resolute. "Let's go to Hell's Kitchen."
"Let's see if the Alex Ray you trust… is really worthy of it."
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Bonus Chapter - 150 Power Stones
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