Hawkeye wasn't carrying a bow; he was wielding a hand-axe. To a Peter Parker from a parallel universe, this was a mind-bending reality shift.
"It seems you know things. Perhaps you should come with me to S.H.I.E.L.D.?" It wasn't a question. In a flash, the axe was pressed against Peter's throat. Clint's eyes were filled with a mix of curiosity and amusement.
"I'm a ghost in this world, Barton. You might find a 'Peter Parker' at Midtown High, but he's a kid. That's all you'll get," Peter said, sighing as he raised his hands in surrender. He had used his technical skills to forge a fake identity just to get a transfer student status and a driver's license. In this world, you couldn't get anywhere without ID.
"Graduated just last year?" Clint didn't lower his weapon. He was becoming more intrigued. If he recalled, Jessica Jones had also graduated from Midtown High around that time before being abducted by Kilgrave for eight months. Did they know each other?
"Yes, sir. I didn't expect to have to go through high school a second time," Peter muttered, scratching his head.
"Then you must know Jessica Campbell?" Clint asked. Campbell was Jessica's maiden name, listed clearly in her S.H.I.E.L.D. file.
"Huh? Jessica?" Peter blinked. In his original world, Jessica had been his classmate, eventually becoming the hero known as "Jewel" or "Knightress." He had always kept an eye on her.
"So you do know her. Should I call her over?" Clint retracted his axe. Who would have thought Midtown High was a breeding ground for such talent?
He had no idea that the same school would eventually produce the second Green Goblin and Agent Venom. It was a factory for superhumans. Unless some bald telepath started a school for "gifted youngsters," Midtown High's reputation was secure.
"Jessica met the Purple Man? Is she calling herself 'Jewel' now?" Peter asked.
The amount of information he was leaking was staggering. Clint's eyes sharpened with an eerie light. "I think we should find somewhere private to talk."
Clint realized this Peter Parker was unique. The phrase "this world" and his knowledge of the "Purple Man" were massive red flags. It reminded him of the "Doctor" Steve Rogers had mentioned regarding the battle in London.
The mysteries of time and space were beyond Clint, but that didn't stop him from deciding that Peter Parker needed a trip to Mount Arreat—to Harrogath.
"I can't go to S.H.I.E.L.D. with you. I have more important things to do." Peter shook his head. To him, "going with Barton" meant being interrogated by Nick Fury, and he had no desire to meet that master of manipulation.
With a sudden movement, Peter dove off the roof, pulling his mask back on mid-fall and disappearing into the urban canyons. As an outsider, he couldn't afford to expose himself too much. Until he found someone he could truly trust, his knowledge of the "future" was his only currency. He wanted to find Doctor Strange, but he couldn't even locate the New York Sanctum, despite knowing its address.
To facilitate Bul-Kathos's movements, the Ancient One had expanded the Sanctum's mystic barrier, shielding it even from S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. A street hero like Spider-Man simply didn't have the clearance to understand the shifts happening in the world.
"I guess I really do have to go find Jessica," Clint muttered, standing alone on the roof. He twitched his lip. He could have brought the kid down with a single throwing knife, but that felt excessive for a fellow hero. Since becoming a Barbarian, his loyalty to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s bureaucracy had waned, especially after hearing what Rumlow had gone through.
Besides, he didn't get along well with Luke Cage. Jessica's threat of a "tag-team beating" had happened more than once.
The Fall of the Golden Realm
Meanwhile, in Asgard, a cataclysm was unfolding.
The God of Fear, Cul Borson, stood at the gates of the Rainbow Bridge. With overwhelming power, he had crushed the Einherjar guards as if they were nothing. Now, he stood face-to-face with Odin.
"Long time no see, brother," said Diablo, cloaked in the guise of Cul.
As the Essence of Terror, Diablo had utterly consumed the "Serpent," absorbing his divinity and his memories. Mimicking Cul was effortless. While this move might draw the attention of Bul-Kathos, Diablo gambled on his understanding of the Barbarian King: Bul-Kathos rarely interfered in the "family matters" of others.
(Even though the Barbarians had interfered in the family matters of the Burning Hell's lords.)
But this was different. He was now the God of Fear, the former King of Asgard. If he succeeded, he could grow his power right under Bul-Kathos's nose.
"Cul! You should never have broken your seal!" Odin roared. He gripped Gungnir, his armor gleaming, ready for war. Beside him, Queen Frigga held Maloth's Focus, her magic peaking.
"You think you're the only one who can play with hammers? Don't make me laugh, Odin," Cul sneered. With a wave of his hand, a surge of dark divinity erupted, forcing Odin into a defensive stance.
"You know the prophecy! I do not wish to lose my son, nor my brother!" Odin shouted, pushing back the wave of terror.
"So you usurped my throne and buried me in the dark?" Diablo was settling into the role. He could feel Odin's heart—a heart filled with a very specific kind of fear.
What did the All-Father fear? The twilight of the gods? Death?
No. Odin feared the loss of his family.
As a father, he was willing to destroy Earth just to save Thor's life. As a brother, he couldn't bring himself to kill a defeated Cul. As King of the Nine Realms, he knew killing Hela was the logical choice, yet he merely imprisoned her in Hel.
And now, he was terrified of the prophecy where Thor and Cul would kill one another.
Diablo felt a surge of ancient joy. The last time he had felt this good was when he became the Prime Evil and snapped Imperius's spear like a twig.
"Cul, you cannot win. Your generals have not yet awakened. Without the eight Worthy, you cannot defeat all of Asgard!" Odin proclaimed. He shook off the last of Cul's energy. "Brother, if you stop now, I will watch over you until the end of my days!"
"Odin!" Frigga gasped, her voice laced with disbelief. Odin was essentially offering to abdicate his throne.
"Stop? What a joke! Why would you think I would stand before you unprepared?!"
Cul's laughter echoed as he doubled the output of his power. The God of Fear drew strength from the terror of others, and this Cul was fueled by the Prime Evil himself. In terms of raw divinity, he was now capable of trampling Odin.
"Brother!" Odin cried, channeling his full strength.
Frigga could no longer stand by. If Odin continued to burn his life force at this rate, his "Odinsleep" would become an eternal grave. she joined the fray. As a master of the mystic arts, she unleashed her power, though she hesitated to use her most lethal spells against her husband's brother.
"Get out of my palace! I am the one true King!"
Diablo felt a strange, wicked glee as he spoke those words. He finally understood why Belial was so addicted to lies. The feeling of playing with the world from a position of absolute superiority was intoxicating.
With a final burst of Cul's stolen power, Diablo shattered their defenses. Before Odin or Frigga could recover, they were overwhelmed.
"Since you chose to seal me away, I shall return the favor. But since we're family, I'll let your wife keep you company!"
Cul's laughter turned into a roar as he bound their energies within their own bodies.
"And why did you think I was alone? My Worthy shall sow terror across the realms, and I shall become supreme!"
It was Diablo's nature to seize every opportunity to magnify fear. He cast Odin and Frigga into a dark pocket of Hel, sealing the dimension with the power of Terror.
The other gods of Asgard did not surrender. They launched a desperate counterattack, but against the God of Fear, they were insects. Within moments, the halls of the Golden Palace were stained with ichor.
Hoder, the God of Darkness, died beneath Cul's boot. The remaining Aesir began to tremble.
"Heimdall! Get them out of here!"
Tyr, the God of War, raised his sword with his remaining arm, his voice a thunderous command. With Odin gone, he was the highest-ranking commander. He intended to trade his life for enough time to let his people escape via the Bifrost.
Diablo, in Cul's skin, smiled inwardly. He would record everything happening here and show it to Odin later. The All-Father's despair would be the finest of delicacies.
"You think you can stop… me?" Cul sneered at Tyr.
He could feel the mixture of terror and hatred in Tyr's heart. An idea formed. One hammer remained without a master. Why not let Tyr have it?
A Tyr who existed only to spread fear… imagine the terror that would strike into Odin's heart. And it would be so simple. The Worthy hammers, enhanced by Diablo, didn't erase the host's personality; they merely turned them into faithful disciples of Fear. Tyr would lead the surviving Asgardians into a perpetual cycle of dread.
The thought of it—growing stronger bit by bit, right under Bul-Kathos's nose—made Diablo want to moan in pleasure.
"I will do whatever it takes!" Tyr's voice remained firm, even as his knees shook. As Asgard's true warrior, he would never compromise.
"How interesting. Let's see if you mean it!" Cul laughed.
He could hear the thoughts of everyone in the city. He wasn't worried about losing control. Heimdall, despite his legendary stoicism, was the most terrified of them all. Like Tyr, he was prepared to sacrifice himself.
Cul strode toward Tyr. He needed to push Heimdall to the brink. If he didn't, the Gatekeeper might be too paralyzed by fear to act.
"You cannot stop me. Once I finish you, I will use the Rainbow Bridge to drown the entire world in terror!"
Cul's voice boomed across the realm.
Finally, Heimdall snapped. He channeled the full power of the Bifrost, but instead of a focused beam, he opened a massive portal, teleporting every Asgardian—except himself—to Earth.
The energy didn't dissipate. Heimdall pushed it further. The Bifrost was a planet-cracking weapon. He intended to destroy Asgard itself, taking Cul down with it. To him, the prophecy no longer mattered. His failure to see Cul's escape was a sin he could only wash away with the destruction of his home.
Asgard began to tear apart. Cul stood in the center of the storm, laughing.
This was perfect. The survivors would spend eternity drowning in the memory of this horror. Every moment of their lives would now feed him.
Slowly, the energy began to stabilize. Heimdall slumped, his mind fractured.
Should I have summoned the Ancient One?
Should I have called for Thor and Mjolnir?
Should I have sent Odin's hammer-wielding son instead?!
Self-doubt shattered what was left of his sanity. He sank into a suffocating darkness, one step away from total madness.
"Go on. Why stop now?" Cul taunted.
He had one final task: destroy the Rainbow Bridge. He needed to ensure Bul-Kathos couldn't use it to reach Asgard. But he couldn't do it with his own power—that was the King's prerogative. Until Odin was truly dead, Cul didn't have full administrative rights over Asgard. He had to manipulate Heimdall into doing the work for him.
There was no better place for Diablo to grow than a ruined Asgard. Once the Bifrost was gone, the Nephalem's teleportation spells wouldn't work here. Bul-Kathos had no anchor points in this realm.
In a new world, with new rules, Diablo would break his old limits. He would surpass Bul-Kathos, consume his brothers and sisters once more, and then face the mad Malthael with twice the power.
Bul-Kathos couldn't stand against the Rules. But Diablo could.
"AAAAAAHHHHHH!"
Heimdall, lost to madness, made his final choice. The Rainbow Bridge went into a state of total overload and began to self-destruct.
The resulting explosion rippled through space-time. Until the chaotic energy settled, no one—not even Diablo himself—could leave or enter this place.
It was the ultimate security.
The Advent of the Worthy
Tyr and the host of Asgard crashed onto Earth.
They landed precisely in the S.H.I.E.L.D. restricted zone in New Mexico. Amidst the confused, terrified masses, Tyr fell heavily toward the crater containing Mjolnir.
But beneath him wasn't just the hammer of Thor. It was a small, nearly invisible, jagged hammer.
Revenge?
Justice?
Victory at any cost?
As Tyr's hand closed around the small hammer, he realized those things were meaningless. Without power, he was nothing.
At that moment, Tyr, the Breaker of Wills, was born.
His spirit shattered, his judgment clouded by the Prime Evil's influence, Tyr became a slave to the hammer the moment he touched it. He would lead the Asgardians—until Thor arrived. And in the meantime, he would harvest the "leeks" of his own people, sowing seeds of dread into their broken hearts.
The Asgardians were in shambles. Some were already insane, wailing on the ground. Even their greatest warrior had fallen.
In the chaos, no one noticed a stranger among them.
A young woman with a vacant expression stood amidst the crowd. She had short chestnut hair, a delicate face, and a slender frame. She wore a simple dark red tunic and a vest, with a fine pendant around her neck.
In one hand, she clutched a leather-bound journal. In the other, she pressed a tiny, charm-like hammer against the cover.
Two Worthy were now active on Earth, working toward Diablo's ends.
The Breaker of Wills — Tyr.
And the first of the Worthy:
The First Sin — Leah.
Diablo's first phase was complete. The Worthy possessed power rivaling an awakened Thor. And Leah was his ultimate trump card—his shield against Bul-Kathos.
If Bul-Kathos joined the fray, the other Worthy would be snuffed out like candles. No matter how careful they were, their evil nature would eventually show. But Leah? The innocent, kind-hearted Leah who had been nothing but a victim of the Prime Evil?
Her presence would make Bul-Kathos hesitate. And as long as the Worthy weren't utterly destroyed, they could never truly die.
As the Essence of Terror, Diablo held power over the life and death of all who felt fear. It was a power that surpassed the authority of Death itself—the greatest prize he had snatched from his time as the Prime Evil.
Only two beings were beyond his control.
One was Bul-Kathos, who had severed his own soul. The other was Leoric, who had used madness to conquer fear.
Beyond them, no one who harbored fear could defeat him. Not even Malthael.
Diablo had fully unearthed the power of the Root of Terror. Before him, all who feared could only tremble.
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