New York was in chaos, but it was the kind of chaos the city had somehow learned to survive. Sirens wailed through the streets, missile trails crisscrossed the sky, and alien soldiers poured down from the portal over Stark Tower like a metallic storm. At the same time, the White House was no less busy. Phones rang nonstop, staff ran in and out of conference rooms, and every screen in the building was locked onto live coverage of Manhattan.
Obama was secretly thrilled, but none of that showed on his face. What he wore instead was a look of grave sorrow and presidential determination, the kind of expression practiced by men who intended to cash in on disaster while pretending to mourn it. Just minutes after the Chitauri invasion began, he stood at the podium for an emergency press conference and addressed the nation in a deep, steady voice.
"The United States will never admit defeat," he declared, each word measured and forceful. "As long as we remain united, we are indestructible. Let every monster and every demon go straight to hell. Great America will claim final victory."
The timing could not have been better if someone had scripted it personally. Just as he reached the end of his speech, updates flooded in about missile launches, troop deployments, and the strong initial response in New York. Reporters on the scene quickly learned that multiple warships were already stationed off the coast and that support units were entering the city at remarkable speed.
Naturally, the questions came fast. "Mr. President, why are there over a dozen warships just off New York's coast?" one reporter asked sharply. Another pushed in right after him. "Where exactly did the troops reinforcing the city come from?"
Obama smiled modestly and lifted one hand in a calming gesture. "Ever since New York suffered several major disasters, I've been deeply concerned about the city's safety. To be honest, I've had my attention on New York for a long time. I've always believed in being prepared."
He paused, lowered his eyes slightly, and let the weight of responsibility settle into the room. "I sincerely hoped these preparations would never be needed. Unfortunately, reality doesn't bend to anyone's wishes. Disaster has struck New York again, but fortunately, I made some preparations."
The reporters looked genuinely surprised. Then someone began clapping. A second later, someone else joined in. Within moments, the entire room was applauding. The atmosphere became so lively that anyone walking in blind would have thought America had already won the war.
Far away in the sky, Stark was still racing back toward New York. He had been monitoring the battle the whole time, and after hearing the president's speech, he let out a cold, disbelieving laugh. "Bullshit," he muttered. "Absolute bullshit."
Even without overthinking it, he knew Obama was lying through his teeth. He immediately told JARVIS to "gently" hack the Pentagon's mobilization system, and the results made everything clear. The fleet movement and troop deployment had both been issued as emergency orders. That meant Obama had received advance warning.
The moment that thought connected, Stark's face darkened. Locke. It had to be Locke. That scheming bastard had seen this coming.
"Treacherous little snake," Stark growled inside the helmet. "Just wait. Once my anti-thunder armor is finished, I'm absolutely going to beat your ass."
Fortunately for everyone involved, Stark was too furious and too rushed to check the Pentagon invitation that had lured him to Hawaii in the first place. If he had traced that little detail too, he might have exploded before reaching the East Coast.
Back in New York, Locke looked at Professor Charles with a deeply pained expression. Charles Xavier was supposed to be one of mutantkind's ultimate strategic weapons, not a man who kept turning soft every five minutes in front of key enemies. First his confidence came back, then it went limp all over again before the fight even really started.
Still, after glancing at the two enemies before them, Locke understood the problem.
Corvus Glaive had stored his soul in his weapon. That meant his mental state probably hovered somewhere between person and object, which made it difficult for Charles to lock onto him the way he could a normal mind. And as for Ebony Maw… Locke didn't even need to think hard about that one. The bastard was holding the Mind Scepter. If Charles couldn't control him, that was normal. At this point, it was lucky Charles wasn't the one getting hijacked.
Locke let out a long sigh. "Fine. You go stand over there with Logan and the others."
Professor Charles fell silent for a second, and the look on his face turned extremely complicated. Then, in a tone loaded with wounded dignity, he seemed ready to say that he didn't need anyone to push him and could get himself over there just fine. Locke, however, had already stepped forward with Mjolnir in hand.
The system had judged both enemies in front of him to be King-level. If anything, Locke suspected the pair were even more dangerous in direct combat than Mephisto's incarnation had been. Mephisto's projection depended on the Hell gateway remaining open. Once the connection was cut, his strength would plummet. These two, on the other hand, were operating entirely on their own power.
Even so, Locke had no intention of using his strongest cards.
The Mountains of Corpses and Seas of Blood. The sun-backed power source. Those were trump cards. In a world like Marvel, where absurd monsters crawled out of every corner of reality, you didn't reveal your whole hand just because two sub-bosses showed up. At a minimum, someone on Thanos's level had to walk onto the stage before Locke considered going all out.
Against the two Black Order generals in front of him, Mjolnir was more than enough. After all, he now had effectively limitless energy under the sun. Besides, the U.S. military still needed time to finish showing off. Hundreds of missiles had already been launched, and the cost was probably soaring past ten billion dollars, but people loved that kind of spectacle.
Look at that missile slamming into Stark Tower by accident. What a scene. It practically looked like a blockbuster.
Locke and Obama had already discussed the order of operations. First the military would get its grand heroic moment. Then the Avengers would step in afterward and reap the rest of the glory. That meant Locke's job here was simple. Stall the two generals.
He raised Mjolnir and shouted, "Hey, alien scum—drop dead!"
The hammer swung down, and several bolts of lightning as thick as tree trunks smashed out of the sky. Ebony Maw and Corvus Glaive clearly had not expected anything so direct and so savage. Both of them dodged instinctively, their movements sharp and disciplined.
Locke did not stop.
Wave after wave of free lightning exploded around them, surrounding them from multiple directions. This time there was nowhere to escape cleanly. The Mind Scepter and Corvus's blade were both magical enough to cut through lightning itself, but there was simply too much of it, and it came too fast. They managed to disperse part of the storm, yet the rest slammed into them mercilessly.
Dust erupted. Both generals were blasted to the ground.
Their bodies were tough enough that the attack didn't cripple them, but that only made the humiliation worse. They had come to Earth seeing it as a backward, insignificant planet full of weak natives. Now they were getting blasted across the battlefield by one of those same natives.
Corvus Glaive's rage erupted first. "You want to die!" he roared.
His warblade lit up, and he kicked off the ground with terrifying force. He cut through the air like a thrown spear, wind screaming around him as the blade distorted the space in front of it. Even before he reached Locke, a long, smooth fissure split open in the ground. Logan, Colossus, and the others had already withdrawn to a distance, but even they couldn't help sucking in a breath at the sight.
Locke remained perfectly calm, Mjolnir held low and ready.
Then came a buzzing sound.
A second later—bang.
Locke watched with his own eyes as a circular shield traced an elegant arc through the air. It struck Corvus Glaive square in the face at the exact moment his pupils began to widen in realization.
Spit and blood sprayed from his mouth.
An angry shout followed right behind it. "Take my shield!"
The round adamantium shield was no joke. A vivid line of blood appeared instantly across Corvus Glaive's face. Locke turned his head and saw exactly who had entered the battlefield.
It was him. It was really him. The little star-spangled hero with tiny wings painted on his helmet—Captain America.
What shocked Locke even more was what happened next. After striking Corvus in the face, the shield rebounded through the air as though pulled by an invisible string and flew neatly back into Steve's hand. The man looked steady, composed, and absurdly confident.
This was Marvel's most unreasonable owner of the fifty-fifty law, the idol of countless people, Captain America himself.
Steve gave the blood on his shield a casual shake, straightened his back, and walked over to Locke. His eyes lingered for a moment on Mjolnir before he gave a slight nod of appreciation. "Nice weapon."
Locke almost jumped. He immediately moved the hammer behind his back and stared at Steve with suspicion. "What are you trying to do, kid?"
Steve just smiled and turned his gaze back toward the two enemies. "Ready to fight?"
Locke looked at the two Black Order generals, then at the calm, steady man beside him, and frowned hard. No, seriously—where the hell was this confidence coming from?
He glanced back at the rest of the Avengers. Why did every single one of them suddenly look like fools compared to the guy standing next to him?
Steve noticed the disbelief on Locke's face and shook his head. "I know I'm not strong enough to beat either one of them outright. But don't worry, I can hold one of them off. Once you finish the other, come help me."
Locke stared at him. "You're sure you can hold one off? Because if you get killed on the spot, I'm not avenging you. Wait. You were standing there watching this whole time?"
A crooked grin appeared on Steve's face. "I'm different now than I used to be. I can fight him all day."
Locke shrugged. "Fine. Just don't ask me to collect your body later."
At that moment, Corvus Glaive touched the blood on his face and stared at it in silence. Then he slowly licked the red from his fingers, and his eyes turned colder than before. These shameless natives had not only resisted him, they had humiliated him with a sneak attack.
Kill them.
Looking at the furious general, Locke tilted his head toward Steve. "You started the fire. You put it out."
The moment he finished speaking, a bolt of lightning blasted toward Ebony Maw.
In a straight one-on-one, Maw simply could not compete with him. The Mind Scepter wasn't designed as a dedicated combat weapon. Maw himself was a high-level telekinetic, and with a flick of his hands he sent chunks of debris, broken steel, and shattered concrete crashing toward Locke in waves.
It didn't matter.
Compared to Locke's thunder, that kind of attack was practically decorative. Even when pieces got through, they hit his body like toys and couldn't break his defense at all. The sun blazed high overhead, and endless power churned through Locke's body. It was the first time he had ever enjoyed this kind of battle so purely.
It reminded him of games from his previous life. Other people had to carefully count cooldowns, manage energy bars, and ration every major skill. He, on the other hand, was finally living the dream of smashing the ultimate ability button over and over without a single damn worry.
Unlimited firepower.
And that was with him still holding back. If he summoned a dark cloud superstorm like before, he might have covered half of New York in lightning.
Under the relentless bombardment, the Mind Scepter was eventually knocked out of Ebony Maw's hand. Locke seized the opportunity instantly. A flash of lightning exploded beside the falling weapon, sending it tumbling straight into his palm.
The second his fingers closed around it, he felt genuine relief.
At the very least, they no longer had to worry about Thanos using this Stone for a snap.
Then a system prompt suddenly appeared before his eyes.
[Congratulations on starting the system evolution mission: 1/6]
Locke paused in surprise.
The system could evolve?
So the six Infinity Stones were linked to its evolution path?
Interesting.
Even without the mission, he had planned to collect the Stones eventually. If he could gather all six and actually wield the authority of the Infinity Gauntlet, that would be glorious beyond words. One snap, and the power of a creator god might be within reach. And even if it didn't reach that absurd level, then snapping away every criminal in the universe would still be a hell of a backup plan.
By then, even if he wasn't a creator god, he'd at least be standing at a multiversal tier of bullshit.
Without the Mind Scepter, Ebony Maw stopped being a real threat. He even started trying to disengage and flee, but Locke bound him in place with a lightning snare before he could escape. With the alien locked down, Locke shifted part of his attention to the battlefield on the other side.
He had been watching that fight all along.
And the more he watched, the more confused he became.
Was that really Captain America?
Since when had he turned into this kind of lunatic?
Steve had only traded a few blows with Corvus Glaive before clearly losing the direct exchange. His shield had been knocked aside, and Corvus had slammed him to the ground right at his feet. But Steve's willpower was genuinely terrifying. The instant he hit the pavement, he pulled a small dagger from somewhere on his body and stabbed upward.
The blade punched straight through the sole of Corvus Glaive's foot.
Locke recognized the metal at a glance. Vibranium.
He became even more confused. Where the hell did you get that?
Caught off guard, Corvus Glaive roared in pain. Steve used that brief opening perfectly. He clenched his teeth, shot back up to his feet, and drove his head forward with brutal force.
Corvus Glaive was much taller than him, and one particular part of his body happened to be at exactly the right height.
An agonized cry tore out of the alien general.
With the pain from his foot and the impact below, Corvus lost balance and fell flat onto his back. Steve pounced on him without hesitation and, with his fingers stiff as blades, stabbed hard toward his eye sockets!
....
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