The battlefield trembled under forces beyond comprehension. Heroes and villains clashed like storms colliding, each strike threatening to tear the fragile world apart. But wars of titans always demand sacrifice—and the first giant was about to fall.
Hulk roared as he drove his fists into Doomsday's chest, cracking bone and hurling the monster across a crater. For a heartbeat, silence. Then Doomsday rose, evolving yet again, his jagged bones sharper, his strength multiplied. Hulk lunged, fists flying like meteors, but this time Doomsday matched him blow for blow.
The ground buckled as Doomsday seized Hulk by the throat and slammed him into the earth with earth-shattering force. Hulk coughed blood, rage burning but fading. His eyes met Superman's across the battlefield—an unspoken brotherhood, a final farewell.
"No!" Thor bellowed, rushing to intervene, but he was caught in Darkseid's grip, hurled aside by Omega-fueled power.
Doomsday lifted Hulk high, snarling, then drove a bone spike through his chest. The roar that followed was not of anger—but of death. Hulk's body fell limp, blood pooling into the broken ground. The strongest Avenger had fallen.
The battlefield froze. Heroes staggered, their hearts sinking. Spider-Man's voice cracked: "He… he's gone." Even Batman's stone-hard mask faltered for an instant.
But Doomsday only roared louder, pounding his chest in triumph, as though mocking every soul present. His victory cry spread terror through soldiers and gods alike.
Superman's fists clenched, heat vision glowing dangerously. Thor's grip tightened on Mjolnir. The death of Hulk was no longer just a tragedy—it was a spark. The heroes' grief ignited into fury, and vengeance burned hotter than ever.
Yet in the shadows, Thanos smirked. Darkseid's eyes gleamed. For them, this was only the first casualty. The fall of one giant had opened the floodgates for many more.
The war had entered its darkest hour.