Thanos looked up slowly, almost lazily, as if he were waking from a pleasant nap instead of standing in the middle of a battlefield drenched in golden blood.
Across the void of shattered metal and drifting debris stood Beta Ray Bill.
The alien warrior hovered in the darkness of space, lightning coiling around him like living serpents. His horse-like visage was twisted with fury, and in his left hand he gripped Stormbreaker—the very axe that had once answered Thor's call. Now it answered his.
Thunder rolled without atmosphere. Space itself trembled.
Behind Thanos, Thor's severed body drifted silently, golden blood scattering into glittering droplets that caught the distant starlight like dying stars.
Bill's voice shook with rage. "You butcher."
Another bolt erupted from Stormbreaker, thicker this time, brighter—pure, condensed wrath. It tore across twenty thousand kilometers of vacuum in a blink and struck Thanos square in the chest.
Crack—
Lightning spiderwebbed over his armor.
Thanos exhaled.
Actually exhaled.
His massive frame absorbed the energy as if it were a warm bath after a long day. The muscles across his shoulders flexed beneath the crackling arcs. His eyes half-lidded, almost amused.
Now this… this had some flavor.
More lightning came. A storm without clouds. Each strike carried the weight of a god's grief.
Thanos did not move.
He stood there, letting the current rip through him, letting the energy sink into his star-forged body. The Power Stone on the Infinity Gauntlet glimmered faintly, harmonizing with the incoming force rather than resisting it.
After several seconds, he opened his eyes again—calm, steady, terrifyingly clear.
"You will exhaust yourself," he said, voice low and even. "Like he did."
Beta Ray Bill roared and surged forward, Stormbreaker raised high. The weapon split the vacuum as it descended, lightning trailing behind it like a comet's tail.
This time, Thanos moved.
Not fast.
Not flashy.
Just enough.
He stepped aside by a fraction, Tyrant's Blade rising in a smooth arc. The two divine weapons collided again, and the resulting shockwave rippled across nearby starships, rattling hull plating and splitting already fractured armor.
Bill pushed forward with raw fury, muscles straining, lightning exploding outward in violent bursts.
But Thanos felt it—the difference.
Thor had fought with hatred.
Bill fought with grief.
Both burned hot.
Neither burned long.
A faint, predatory smile touched Thanos's lips.
At last, he had found someone whose lightning could make his blood hum.
And perhaps… someone worth keeping alive.
For training.
The blade rose.And fell.
This time, when darkness swallowed him, Zeus felt it linger a fraction longer. The golden armor flared again, but the light was weaker now—no longer a blazing sun, more like a tired candle fighting a draft.
He gasped back to awareness, vision swimming. The once-proud king of the gods looked far less divine and far more alarmed.
Across from him stood Thanos, utterly calm. No rage. No mockery. Just calculation.
"You…" Zeus's voice came out hoarse, stripped of its earlier arrogance. "What did you do?"
Thanos tilted his head slightly, the yellow glow of the Mind Stone fading to a faint shimmer.
"You were never where you thought you were," he said evenly. "Your fleet. Your distance. Your escape."
Zeus's stomach dropped.
The teleportation had worked.
But the space he reappeared in… had not been real.
The Mind Stone hadn't merely created a visual illusion—it had rewritten his perception of reality itself. Every relocation, every battlefield adjustment, every confident maneuver had been carefully guided. Herded.
Like prey.
Zeus gritted his teeth and forced lightning to surge through Thunder again. Electricity crackled violently around him, brighter than before, desperate. The artifact responded, but sluggishly, as if even it sensed its master's weakening state.
He lunged, hurling a concentrated bolt at point-blank range.
The blast tore through space—
—and passed through Thanos.
An afterimage.
The real Thanos appeared behind him.
Too close.
Zeus barely had time to turn before the Tyrant's Blade carved downward once more. The armor flared violently, cracks spiderwebbing across its golden surface. This time, when Zeus returned to consciousness, he collapsed to one knee.
The glow was nearly gone.
His breath came in ragged pulls. His muscles trembled. The divine aura that once dominated the battlefield now flickered uncertainly.
Thanos stepped forward slowly, boots heavy against the fractured void.
"You rely too much on certainty," the Titan said. "Guaranteed hits. Absolute teleportation. Automatic resurrection."
He raised the blade again, resting it casually on his shoulder.
"There is no such thing."
Zeus tried to stand. Lightning sputtered weakly around him, more sparks than storm.
For the first time since arriving, the king of the gods looked afraid.
And Thanos did not hesitate.
.....
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