"So, this is it," Thanos rasped, the sound like stones grinding together. "You've come to kill me."
He wasn't surprised by Vilgax's presence, nor his fury. The attack aboard the Sanctuary had been absolute. Armed with the Power Stone, Thanos had intended to atomize the squid-faced warlord. He hadn't anticipated such tenacious vitality. Though clearly still injured, Vilgax was mobile, whereas Thanos himself, though miraculously alive, had no strength left to resist.
Death had rejected his soul once more. That was the only reason he had clawed his way back to consciousness. Now, cornered and broken, he had fallen into the hands of his bitterest rival. He accepted his fate.
But Vilgax simply offered a cold, predatory smile. "Kill you, Thanos? Oh, no. That would be far too merciful."
He bent down, his powerful grip effortlessly closing around the Titan's broken frame. He hauled him from the cooled magma of Xandar like a piece of debris and dragged him aboard a small, waiting vessel, vanishing from the planet long before any Xandarian patrol could discover them.
They arrived at Thanos's former sanctuary, a ghost station orbiting a dead star. The empty Void Throne once again had an occupant, though it was Vilgax who now sat upon it. He tossed Thanos to the cold metal floor like a bag of refuse. The once-mighty Titan was now little more than a stray dog, gasping in pain, his eyes fixed on the usurper. He couldn't comprehend Vilgax's plan.
"My ultimate goal is the Omnitrix," Vilgax began, his voice echoing in the cavernous throne room. He paced over to a humming, chrome apparatus bristling with conduits and needles. "But its wielder… that boy is more powerful than I thought."
He wheeled the machine over and began fixing its clamps to Thanos's body. "To get what I want," Vilgax continued, his voice dropping to a frigid whisper, "I require more power."
Thanos's eyes widened in dawning horror. "You—You mean to take my power?!"
"Precisely."
The moment Vilgax finished speaking, he activated the device. It was an energy siphon, a machine he had once used to drain the powers of the Galactic Enforcers and conquer ten worlds by stealing the might of their champions. Now, its needles plunged into the Titan's flesh.
A horrendous, soul-shattering scream tore from Thanos's throat. The agony of having his very essence, the cosmic energy that allowed him to withstand the might of the Infinity Stones, siphoned from his cells was beyond any pain he had ever known.
Vilgax, however, was deaf to his cries. He closed his eyes, completely intoxicated as the raw, godly power of the Titan flooded into him. "Such power…" he hissed, his body trembling with the influx. "With this, even the Omnitrix—"
He stopped, forcing himself to calm down. He had been injured and adrift during the final battle, so he hadn't witnessed the true extent of Ben's abilities. But he knew the outcome. Even with this immense energy, Thanos had lost. This boy, this Ben Parker, was a threat on an entirely different scale.
The Titan's power alone is not enough, Vilgax realized with chilling clarity. It is far from enough.
A new, more ambitious plan began to form in his mind. "I will conquer ten of the most powerful worlds in the galaxy," he vowed to himself. "I will gather the abilities of all their protectors into my own body. Only then will victory be assured."
He would unleash his own War of the Realms.
Now infused with the might of Thanos, Vilgax was already a match for most forces in the universe, capable of standing against gods. But he would take no chances. He had spent enough time at the Titan's side to gather a wealth of intelligence. He would proceed step by step.
He left the Void Throne, sparing a final, contemptuous glance at the husk that was once Thanos. He did not let him live. A single, efficient blast of energy, and it was over. Vilgax then picked up the shattered remains of the Tyrant's Blade, intending to have it reforged by the master smiths of Nidavellir. But he knew the Dwarven realm was still under Asgard's protection. He would not move against them yet.
His first target would be a world already in ruins: the frost giant kingdom of Jotunheim.
Some time later, on the silent throne, another visitor arrived. Thanos, a withered corpse now, was a grotesque parody of his former self. His once-mighty frame had shriveled, his purple skin clinging to his bones like dried leather. He looked like a mummy, drained of all life, his ornate armor now a cage far too large for his diminished form, shackling him to his defeat.
He had thought this would be his fate—an eternity of silent suffering. But as a shadow fell over him, he recognized the newcomer.
"Gamora… my daughter…"
It was Gamora. He couldn't imagine why she would return. He'd assumed she would have fallen back into the Plumbers' custody. Her appearance now, however, ignited a desperate, tiny flicker of hope. He was a corpse, but he was a living corpse. As long as he drew breath, he had not truly lost. If she could free him, he could still make a comeback.
"Nebula let me go," Gamora whispered, her voice hollow. She looked around the dead throne room, then back at him. She had lost her duel with Nebula, her mind in turmoil. She had expected a brutal, vengeful retribution for all the years of torment she had inflicted on her sister.
Instead, Nebula had simply released her. "Our father is dead anyway," was all she had said.
Seeing him now, Gamora was horrified. "I thought you were dead…" she said, cautiously approaching the skeleton draped in wrinkled, cracked purple skin. "You're… alive?"
He looked more like a ghost than a living being.
"Of course I am alive. The King of Sakaar couldn't kill me, and neither could Vilgax," Thanos said, his voice a dry rustle.
"But… what happened to you?"
A spasm of remembered agony contorted Thanos's face. "Vilgax… he has taken my power. But do not worry. Destiny is always with me. The fact that I cannot die is proof of that."
He felt certain that Death was still watching him, that his repeated returns from the brink were a sign. One day, he would deliver his promised tribute, and she would finally accept his courtship. He tried to inject his old, commanding tone into his voice.
"Save me from this cage, my daughter. Just as I saved you from your dying world."
He waited. Gamora did not move.
"When you say saving me," she asked, her voice thick and suffocating, "do you mean murdering my parents? Destroying my home? Slaughtering my people?"
Thanos was stunned into silence, his sunken eyes fixed on her. Gamora's face was a mask of hatred, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, her teeth gritted so hard her jaw ached. Her entire body trembled with a rage that had been suppressed for decades. That simmering resentment had finally boiled over.
For the first time, Thanos truly saw the hatred he had cultivated in his beloved daughter. He opened his mouth, but for once, he didn't know what to say. He didn't try to defend himself. Instead, after a long moment, he chose to pour fuel on the fire.
"So," he said, his voice a low goad. "You wish to avenge them now? I am powerless. You could use the skills I taught you to take my head. Or… don't you dare?"
That was all it took. Gamora was enraged.
She ripped the dagger from her belt—the same perfectly balanced blade he had given her as a child—and lunged, pressing the point against his throat. The sharp steel pierced his shriveled skin, but only a trickle of dark, sluggish fluid emerged.
"You think I don't dare?!" she cried, a silent tear finally tracing a path through the grime on her cheek. But she couldn't do it. She couldn't make the final cut.
"I taught you, my daughter," Thanos said, his tone sickeningly loving. "Don't waste words on your enemy." He could feel her arm trembling, shaking with a volatile mixture of anger, fear, and grief. He pushed harder. "I remember… this was a small gift, for the day the Black Order brought balance to your world."
"How dare you!" Gamora shrieked as if he'd stabbed her. She went mad, reversing her grip on the dagger and plunging it into his chest, again and again, lost in a storm of pure anguish.
Thanos seemed not to feel the pain, watching her frantic assault with a calm, detached gaze. "You cannot kill me," he wheezed. "Ben Parker couldn't do it. Vilgax couldn't do it." He paused, letting her frenzy subside into ragged sobs. "But… I can tell you what can."
He was a devil, whispering temptation into her ear. "The Infinity Stones."
Gamora's body went still. The Soul Stone.
"You deceived me, Gamora. But I will not deceive you," Thanos said softly. "Only the Stones can truly end me. Especially the one whose location you know." He no longer expected to live, but he would not give up on his destiny. He would simply see it fulfilled by another's hand. By his daughter's.
Vormir was a planet of lonely majesty. Steep, monolithic mountains clawed at a bruised sky, their architecture seemingly divine, filled with mystery and dread. There was no life, only the ceaseless howl of the wind, which seemed to carry the wails of lost souls. White snow drifted across the landscape, not cold, but strangely ethereal.
Two figures moved through the desolation.
"Didn't you say the Soul Stone needs a soul in exchange?" Brunnhilde asked, her silver Asgardian armor gleaming against the pale snow. This time, she was Ben's sole companion. "You're not planning to sacrifice me, are you?" she complained, though she followed him without a hint of hesitation.
Ben just reached out and tapped her lightly on the helmet. "What are you thinking? The price is the soul of the one you love, understand?"
Brunnhilde's eyes lit up under her helm. "Oh. So I sacrifice you?"
Ben shot her an exasperated look. The banter was easy, a welcome distraction. Loki's intimate knowledge of the Stones had allowed them to monitor their cosmic signatures. Days ago, he had reported that the Tesseract was resonating with another Stone, one that had just awoken. The energy spike was traced here, to Vormir.
Ben was deeply unsettled. As far as he knew, only he and Gamora knew this location. But how could she have obtained the stone? Who could she possibly sacrifice? Nebula was on Sakaar, and she barely knew Star-Lord. Surely she couldn't have just… thrown the Red Skull off the cliff?
Worried, Ben had put his work on the Worldmind on hold and brought the currently unoccupied Brunnhilde with him to investigate. He'd even brought one of his fake Infinity Stones, hoping to somehow trick the system.
They crossed the final snowfield and climbed the steep cliff face, where they saw him: a tattered, black-robed specter, floating before the abyss.
The Red Skull turned as they approached, his crimson face a mask of ancient knowledge. "You are too late, King of Sakaar," he intoned, his voice echoing in the wind. "The Soul Stone has already been taken."
Ben's brow furrowed. "Who took it?"
The Red Skull's lips, or what was left of them, moved slightly. He uttered a single, chilling name:
"Requiem."