"What?"
"You want to kill a Celestial?"
"Why don't you just go straight to hell!?"
The interior of the Temple in New York was filled with tension.
Aron had just, with a serious expression, declared that a Celestial was not unbeatable.
Now the Ancient One was chasing him around the temple, while Aron ran about, trying to dodge her strikes.
"No, Ancient One, listen to me, I have a plan."
"No matter what strength Arishem the Judge has, it's only at the level of one universe, I mean…"
Aron ducked behind a glass case, like a child playing hide and seek, trying to calm the furious teacher.
"Only the level of one universe?"
"I don't understand!"
"Such a simple matter! Obviously it can be solved with negotiations, why do you immediately have to think about fighting?" The Ancient One was visibly irritated.
To her, Arishem's judgment came down to whether it was worth sacrificing a Celestial to save Earth.
All that was needed was to prove the value, nothing more.
Why risk needlessly?
Why deliberately provoke a being that could destroy the universe?
"I just don't like it." Aron shrugged.
The Ancient One clenched her teeth, searching for any way to vent her anger.
She picked up a feather duster from the shelf beside the glass case.
Aron was momentarily confused. "Why would there be a feather duster in the temple?"
It quickly dawned on him. This was surely left behind by Felicia after cleaning, forgotten there.
"Felicia! You'll wash up and wait tonight!"
"…"
"Child, you'd better worry about yourself!" the Ancient One snapped back.
Inside the temple, the two of them continued to clash.
The Ancient One was literally tossing Aron around, while Wanda watched the scene from the side with a smile.
Two beings whose power could shake the Earth three times over by stomping their feet now looked as if they were playing a children's game of tag.
After a while, the Ancient One was finally exhausted. She gave up, cursed, and left the temple hall.
"I only wanted to talk, and she makes such a scene," muttered Aron, watching her leave.
He walked over to Wanda.
"Actually, the Ancient One is angry… because she feels her power has weakened now and that she can't help you the way she once did," said Wanda, revealing the true reason for her anger.
The Ancient One wasn't afraid of the Celestial. Nor of the level of a universe.
What frightened her was her decline in power, her inability to stop Aron when it was most necessary.
Aron was silent for a moment, then said coldly:
"Come on… I think she's in menopause."
Without looking back, he left the New York Sanctum.
Wanda shook her head, watching him go. "You men, you're all the same, stubborn."
---
Leaving the temple, Aron walked through the bustling streets of New York.
He understood the Ancient One's concerns.
Despite everything, he was not a reckless warrior.
He knew very well how dangerous it was to fight a Celestial.
Arishem was not someone like Quaggs.
He was not sealed.
His power was at the very peak among the Celestials.
He was the absolute leader, the one even the others feared.
But… Aron did not want to live in the shadow of others' decisions.
He was not ready for the lives, deaths, and fate of the planet to depend on someone else's whim.
If negotiations with Arishem meant sacrificing a Celestial in order to save Earth, that was only another form of submission.
It still meant that the final decision belonged to someone else.
And what if negotiations failed?
What if the judge ruled that Earth was not worth preserving?
Should everyone then quietly wait for death?
"Forget it. I'm ready to fight," muttered Aron, lightly shaking his head.
He was not a man to wait for someone else's mercy.
His style was clear, always prepare for the worst.
If need be, he would summon an entire army of demonic gods, destroy the universe, and move his family to another parallel universe.
After all, in Marvel's multiverse, there was no shortage of parallel worlds.
For Aron, there was always a card up his sleeve, a last option to play at any moment.
---
At this moment, deep in space.
Arishem, hundreds of millions of light years away from Earth, could never have imagined that just the thought of a mortal would affect the fate of the entire universe.
Right now, the survival of the cosmos was caught in the vortex of ideas Arishem was making. If he knew that all of it originated from a man on Earth, he would probably collapse under the weight of that realization.
---
Meanwhile, Aron was walking the streets of New York. He was considering whether to gather Odin and the others to face the Celestial together.
---
In the Flaming Hell, under his control, a bloody battle was underway. Hela was leading the army, cleansing the remnants of Mephisto's forces.
All of hell was lit by flames, and the red sky vibrated with screams and the clash of weapons.
Suddenly, with a crash that shook the entire vault of hell, the sky split apart.
"Hm?" Hela raised her gaze, sharp green glints in her eyes reflecting the flash of light crashing down from above.
Something was falling, fast and unstoppable.
Boom! The ground shook, and a massive crater opened in the fiery hell.
Hela approached, her eyes widening when she saw what lay within the ruins.
"Mjolnir?"
The silhouette of the mighty hammer lay at the center of the crater, surrounded by shattered stone and glowing ash.
Hela ran closer. She would recognize that weapon anywhere. Thousands of years ago, Mjolnir had been her weapon too, which Odin later took and gave to his younger son.
"How could Mjolnir…" the whisper escaped her, then her jaw tightened. "My foolish brother?"
She stretched out her hand to lift the hammer but stopped. On the handle were marks. Stained with divine blood, dried and dark, adorned with the imprint of a hand still clearly visible.
---
Somewhere in another universe. In the distant future.
Asgard lay in ruins. The golden palace, once shining and unshakable, was now destroyed, shrouded in shadows and black vapors. Dried divine blood covered the floors, and through holes in the walls seeped creatures of black, sticky mass that stank of rot and fish.
Within the throne from which Odin once ruled, an old man sat. It was Thor. His face was lined with the furrows of time, his hair and beard had turned white. One of his eyes was blind, covered with a black patch. His right arm, long lost, had been replaced by a mechanical one, like those worn by the destroyers.
In front of him, on the ground, lay Mjolnir and Odin's spear.
The black monsters approached, hundreds of them, like an endless tide.
Thor stood, straightening himself as much as he could, and tightly gripped Mjolnir with his left hand, and his father's spear with his right.
"Come then, you curs!" he roared with a voice that still carried the echo of thunder.
"In the golden palace still stands a god who is not dead!"
He raised the weapons, and lightning flashed.
"Blood and thunder, hammer and blade! In the name of the last god who defends this realm!"
Thor leapt into the mass of monsters, slashing through the first row with sword and hammer, as lightning exploded all around him.
"He has drawn Odin's spear! That means the end!"
"The end of the gods, but also the end of the enemy!"
His cry echoed through the ruins of Asgard.
"This is the end of everything!"
–––
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