"Boom!"
The ground quaked violently, sending tremors through everyone's legs. Eyes widened in horror as they realized the truth—the reinforced steel beneath their feet, once thought indestructible, had been torn apart like paper.
The impossible was happening.
S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, that colossal fortress floating above New York, was collapsing. Its great hull groaned under pressure, cracks spiderwebbing across its foundation as if the entire structure were about to plummet into the city below.
"Oh my God…" someone whispered.
Even the seasoned superheroes froze, disbelief etched across their faces. To them, S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters was a symbol—an untouchable giant, forged with technology centuries ahead of its time. It wasn't supposed to fail. It wasn't supposed to break.
And yet, here it was, falling apart before their very eyes.
Even the savage clashes between Arakawa Zenkichi and the Wolf God had not prepared them for this. The sheer aftermath of their battle alone had been enough to tear through what no enemy or war had managed to bring down.
"It's over… it's all over," Nick Fury muttered, his normally sharp expression pale and defeated.
His chest tightened painfully. As Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., he had carried the weight of the organization for years, but never had he felt such utter helplessness. To watch his fortress crumble while he stood powerless—it was a torment words could never describe.
Zenkichi had promised compensation earlier, but Fury's heart wavered. Could even someone like him deliver such a promise? Rebuilding this wasn't simply a matter of money or willpower.
Even Stark Industries, with its wealth and brilliance, couldn't pull off such a miracle. Constructing a new S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier headquarters wasn't a project—it was an abyss, a bottomless pit that would consume every resource, every ounce of manpower, every shred of time.
And Fury knew better than anyone that such a cost was impossible to meet.
Around them, the other heroes struggled with their own fear. Unlike Fury, their concern wasn't for the base—it was for themselves.
The battlefield looked like the end of days.
Even the Hulk, who had charged through armies and leveled cities with raw strength, felt unease gnaw at his chest. His fists clenched as he stared up at the sky. He didn't often think of death, but now, for the first time in years, the thought wormed into his mind.
Above, the collision of Zenkichi's blazing sun and the Wolf God's raging storm had birthed a cataclysm beyond comprehension. Blinding fire mixed with violent gales, descending in waves that could erase anything they touched.
Hulk's breath hitched as he watched one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most advanced aircraft vaporized in an instant. Not shattered. Not damaged. Vaporized.
Gone.
The heat rolling off the clash was so intense that his instincts screamed a warning he couldn't ignore. A primal, ancient fear surged inside him—if he leapt into that maelstrom, not even his monstrous healing factor would save him. His body told him the truth: to touch that storm of sunfire and lightning was to die.
Even the strongest of them had limits.
"We can't just sit here!" Steve Rogers' voice cut through the despair.
Captain America pushed himself to his feet, his uniform torn and his body bruised, but his eyes still burned with determination. He surveyed the heroes around him—Thor, Black Widow, Hulk, Hawkeye—each of them shaken, but none willing to abandon the fight.
"If we wait for this to play out, we're done," Steve said firmly, voice carrying the conviction of a leader who refused to give in. "We can't let this end with us standing by while everything collapses."
The others turned to him, some with doubt, some with hope.
Thor's grip tightened on Mjolnir, thunder crackling faintly at the edges of his power. Natasha Romanoff steadied herself, eyes narrowed as she assessed their dwindling options. Clint Barton notched an arrow, though even he knew it would be like throwing a pebble into a hurricane.
They all felt it—the overwhelming gap between themselves and the two titans locked in combat. Zenkichi and the Wolf God fought on a level that defied reason, their clash reshaping reality itself.
But Steve's words struck a chord.
They couldn't surrender to fear.
They couldn't just watch as the world ended.
"…Then what's the plan?" Bruce Banner asked quietly, though his voice trembled.
Steve looked at him, then at the others, and finally raised his shield. His knuckles whitened around its edge, his resolve steeling with every second.
"What I've always done," he said. "We fight. No matter the odds. No matter how impossible it looks."
And with those words, the surviving heroes prepared to step back into a battle that had already surpassed them, driven by the only thing they had left—courage.