The silence after Hulk's fall shattered like glass. His blood still stained the ground when rage erupted across the battlefield. Hulk had been a monster of power, a brother-in-arms, a wall no enemy could ever break. And now he was gone—slain before their eyes.
Thor's grief boiled into fury. Lightning exploded from Mjolnir, storms answering his wrath as he hurled himself at Doomsday. "For the Green Beast!" he roared, smashing the creature with thunder so violent it lit the skies. Each strike was a declaration of vengeance, each bolt a promise of retribution.
Superman followed, his heat vision blazing like the wrath of a star. He struck Doomsday from the opposite side, fists moving faster than sound. Together, thunder and steel, god and alien, unleashed their wrath, driving Doomsday into the ground.
But vengeance wasn't theirs alone. Wonder Woman, bloodied yet unbroken, dragged herself upright, her lasso blazing with divine flame. She tore into Hela with unrelenting ferocity, forcing the goddess of death to retreat. "One death for another," Diana growled, every strike fueled by the memory of Hulk's fall.
Batman's tactics grew darker, more ruthless. No hesitation, no mercy. Explosives detonated across the battlefield, crippling enemy lines. Even Spider-Man, usually light-hearted, fought with a grim edge, his every move aimed to incapacitate—not restrain.
Yet, in the midst of the heroes' fury, Darkseid and Thanos watched in silence. The gods of conquest did not flinch, did not waver. Instead, they smiled. For every act of vengeance, the rift widened further, feeding on chaos, on grief, on rage.
Doctor Strange staggered as he realized the truth: the multiverse itself was fueling off their anger. Hulk's death had lit a fire—but the fire might burn the worlds to ash.
The heroes were unleashed. The villains were patient. And the rift laughed, tearing wider with every strike.