In the inner sanctum of the temple on Morag, a room lit only by the dull purple glow of radiant pulse of the Power Stone, Proteus, inhabiting Harry's body, felt a surge of triumph,reverberating through the very fabric of reality itself.
"Let the grand finale begin," Proteus whispered to himself, a feverish glint in his eyes. He clasped the Power Stone.
The Power Stone roared to life, shimmering with untapped potential. Space seemed to warp around the emerging portal. For a split second, Proteus glimpsed Earth—his Earth—through the vortex. The grin on his face widened, exposing a row of teeth that looked almost predatory under the cobalt lights.
As the portal stabilized, a shockwave of sensation rippled through Proteus as he entered it. From across the cosmic distance he traveled to earth, then Harry stood before him, Harry felt real, tangible—close.
As they faced each other,if It was as their souls, stretched thin across the bounds of existence, sought to snap back into a unified whole.
"You're toying with elements beyond your understanding," Harry's voice echoed
"You never understood, Harry. To grasp the future, one must risk the present," Proteus retorted, his voice tinged with a madness that both were now privy to.
But then, the unimaginable happened. The earth's geometry twisted, the ground distorting as if melted by an unseen heat. Earth's blues and greens began to swirl and blend, the atmosphere unraveling like smoke in the wind.
"We were never meant to exist this close—our duality defies the laws that stitch reality," Harry's voice held an unmistakable tone of finality.
Panic erupted in Proteus' chest as he tried to drop the power stone. But reality had already started to crumble. As if obeying an unseen law, Proteus felt himself accelerating toward Harry. A force stronger than gravity, stronger than fate, was pulling them together—their merger seemed inevitable and terrifyingly absolute.
Both knew the cost of this reunion: the destabilization and subsequent collapse of not just their worlds but every world. In that final instant, a collective shudder echoed through the fabric of existence as both beings—Harry and Proteus—blended into a catastrophic singularity. The portal, now a frenzied whirlpool of energy, imploded spectacularly, emitting a blinding burst of light.
And then, an incomprehensible silence.
Planets, stars, galaxies—all vanished in a silent exhalation. The universe itself folded inward, compressing into a pinpoint of infinite density. Reality, as if overwhelmed by the paradox of their twin existences, unraveled, leaving behind a vacuum devoid of matter, time, and dimension.
What remained was an eerie, infinite stillness—an unending void where once there had been vibrant chaos, life, and complexity. Everything that had ever been was now compressed into a singularity of endless nothingness.
In that unmeasurable moment of dissolution, Harry and Proteus became aware of a shared, tragic clarity. Their yearning for individual dominance had led to a collective erasure—a final, irreversible unmaking of the universe they had both longed to master.
And just like that, they were gone. Everything was gone. Yet within that boundless emptiness, a flicker of something stirred—a spark too tiny to be called existence, yet too significant to be termed as nothing. It beckoned questions that now had no one to ask the.
The room was suddenly filled with light, shifting the infinite emptiness into an intimate setting—a sanctum sanctorum, to be precise. Dr. Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, lifted his hand from the glowing Eye of Agamotto, which had replayed the catastrophic tale of Harry and Proteus as if it were a crystal ball displaying alternate universes. Across from him, Tony Stark, a.k.a. Iron Man, looked on in disbelief, his face a blend of fascination and horror.
"Wow, talk about taking the term 'self-destructive' to a whole new level," Tony quipped, trying to break the weighty silence, "So, what's the takeaway here, Strange? Don't play with cosmic stones? I think we got that memo."
Dr. Strange sighed, his eyes heavy with knowledge. "The lesson, Tony, is not merely to caution against the misuse of power. It's to illustrate the fragility of existence itself, and how individual choices—whether made by a god, a villain, or even a hero—can unravel the fabric of reality. It's to remind us of the monumental responsibility we bear as we move closer to this battle with Thanos."
Tony leaned back, his armor retracting to reveal a furrowed brow and eyes deep in thought. "So, what you're saying is, it's a cautionary tale. A ghost story to spook us into playing nice with the cosmic jewelry."
Strange looked at Tony, his eyes intense but not unkind. "It's more than that. It's a lesson in humility. As we confront Thanos, we're not just fighting for our world, or our galaxy, but for reality itself. And as you've just seen, reality is an extraordinarily fragile construct."
The gravity of his words hung in the air, filling the room with a tangible tension. Tony met Strange's gaze, his eyes now as serious as they'd ever been.
"Alright then, Doc," Tony stood up, his armor seamlessly encapsulating him once more. "Let's go save not just the day, or the world, but reality itself. No pressure."
Strange nodded, closing the Eye of Agamotto. "No pressure at all."
As both heroes prepared to leave, Doctor Strange couldn't help but wonder. The story of Harry and Proteus had been from another universe, another reality altogether—yet the Eye of Agamotto had chosen to show it at this crucial moment. Was it a random selection, or a forewarning of the scale of the disaster they might inadvertently unleash?
He looked at the Eye, then at Tony, and finally, at the swirling magical portal opening in front of them, leading to an uncertain battlefield.
'Fate plays a strange game,' he thought as they stepped through the portal. 'Let's just hope we're prepared for its final move.'
And with that thought lingering in his mind, they were gone, leaving the sanctum empty but for the echo of their resolve and the weight of the destiny that awaited them.
The stage was set: an otherworldly battleground that seemed to defy the laws of physics and aesthetics alike. Jagged, multi-colored terrain reached upwards like monstrous teeth, reflecting the chaotic, maddening nature of the fight that was about to ensue. Amidst this apocalyptic panorama, the titanic form of Thanos materialized, exuding a palpable aura of dread that threatened to smother hope itself.
Thanos grinned, a disquieting expression that betrayed no warmth—only malevolence. "Ah, the valiant heroes gather once again. Do you really think you can stop me? Even after knowing the consequences that your own choices could bring?"
"We're aware of the stakes," Tony said, his voice as steely as the Iron Man armor encasing him.
"We're fighting for more than just ourselves," Peter added, his tone carrying the weight of his personal journey and the wisdom gleaned from countless battles.
Doctor Strange, his mystical cloak billowing in the ethereal wind, extended his arms in a gesture of arcane might. "Thanos, the fabric of reality stands against you. Yield or be undone."
The tension reached a boiling point, a nexus of conflicting energies and wills that could no longer be contained. And then, with the cataclysmic force of two universes crashing into one another, they clashed.
Iron Man unleashed a torrent of energy blasts. Spider-Man dodged and weaved, deploying his webbing with acrobatic grace. Doctor Strange summoned an arsenal of magical constructs, each shimmering with eldritch power. And Thanos... he was a storm, a juggernaut of raw, devastating power that seemed to defy the laws of god and man.
As the battle raged, a distant humming filled the air—starting as a soft murmur before intensifying into a deafening roar that drowned out even the cacophony of war. And then, in a blinding instant that defied time and space, a figure slammed into Thanos at a speed faster than light itself.
Time seemed to stop, every combatant frozen as if caught in a tableau of cosmic significance. The figure who had appeared was ethereal, a silhouette of fluctuating light and shadow, as if reality itself was struggling to comprehend its essence.
Doctor Strange's eyes widened in recognition and horror. "Impossible!"
Tony and Peter turned, their faces mirroring Strange's disbelief. The figure looked eerily like Harry, yet simultaneously different—like a distorted reflection, a divergent echo. It was Proteus, and the Power Stone, glowing ominously in his palm, seemed to pulse in acknowledgement of its wielder's unthinkable journey.
"You," Thanos growled, momentarily disoriented but visibly incensed, "What are you?"
Harry looked at the Mad Titan and then at the heroes, his expression unreadable but his eyes—those were eyes of someone who had glimpsed the unfathomable.
"I am the reminder," Harry spoke, his voice reverberating like a celestial chorus. "The reminder that existence is so frail, even gods and heroes can't be trusted with it."
The Power Stone glowed brighter, its radiant beams stretching out to touch both Harry's form and Thanos. A blinding surge of energy erupted, consuming them. Reality itself seemed to buckle, the skies tearing open as if crying out in existential pain.
Then, with a gut-wrenching pop that resonated more in the soul than in the ear, both Proteus and Thanos vanished, leaving a void so absolute it felt like a mortal wound in the fabric of existence.
Doctor Strange collapsed, his face ashen. "What... what has he done?"
Tony removed his helmet, his eyes haunted. "He showed us the price of our failure, even if we succeed."
Peter, his mask retracting, looked toward the empty space where two beings of unimaginable power had just stood. "Then we better make sure their sacrifices aren't in vain."
As they pondered the incomprehensible loss and the even more daunting responsibilities ahead, a lingering dread filled their souls. They had averted one catastrophe only to be presented with a more harrowing question: in a reality so fragile, where even the heroes could bring about its ruin, what hope did existence have?
Doctor Strange turned to his fellow heroes, his gaze heavy with foreboding and tinged with an irrevocable sadness. "We need to prepare. I fear that the battle we've just fought is but a precursor to something far more terrifying."
It was a statement, not a question, and it hung in the air long after their forms had vanished, leaving the scarred battleground as a silent testament to the fragility of all things. Reality, they realized, was not just a realm to live in, but also a state to uphold—something even the mightiest could not take for granted.
Spider-Girl, wearing her iconic black and white suit, and Iron Black Panther, an amalgamation of Wakandan technology and Stark innovation, stood in a setting that was at once familiar and alien—a dilapidated New York City street scarred by cataclysmic battles.
Their eyes were not on the devastation around them, but on the raging green monster before them—The Hulk, in possession of the Time Stone. Its emerald glow seemed to writhe like a living thing within the very palm of the beast, an unsettling sight that instilled a sense of urgency in the heroes.
"Are you ready, T'Channa?" Spider-Girl asked, the gravitational web-shooters on her wrists humming softly, ready to fire.
"I was born ready, Mayday," Iron Black Panther replied, his voice carrying through the vocal modulator in his hi-tech helmet.
Just as they prepared to make their move, a disorienting 'pop' echoed through the very fabric of space-time, pulling their attention away from the immediate danger. Appearing as if materialized out of thin air was a figure that seemed both ordinary and paradoxically significant—Harry, but not the Harry they knew, if they knew him at all. This Harry bore an aura of otherworldly power, an unsettling intensity radiating from his very being.
Before they could even react, Harry stretched out his arm, an ethereal wave of energy emanating from his palm. The effect was instantaneous. Spider-Girl felt as if she'd been caught in a gravitational vortex, her limbs suddenly too heavy to move, while Iron Black Panther's advanced armor systems flickered and shut down as if drained of power in an instant. Both heroes collapsed to the ground, rendered incapacitated by an inexplicable force.
With another gesture, almost disdainfully casual, Harry turned to the Hulk. The green behemoth seemed to recognize the power before him, for a moment of clarity flashed across its enraged eyes. Then, with a speed that contradicted his massive form, the Hulk was sucked into a vortex of spiraling light, vanishing along with Harry in an eye blink.
Both Spider-Girl and Iron Black Panther struggled to their feet, their systems and senses slowly recovering from the mysterious energy wave that had struck them down. They looked at each other, their eyes widening in mutual comprehension.
"Mayday, do you realize what this means?" T'Channa said, his voice tinged with a blend of awe and dread.
Mayday Parker nodded, her eyes narrowing. "That wasn't just a battle we lost, T'Channa. That was a warning—a foreshadowing of something far bigger than any of us. And we've just glimpsed an entity who can bend reality to his whims."
As they stood amidst the ruins, contemplating the incomprehensible scope of the challenge that had just been thrust upon them, they couldn't shake off a certain eerie realization. Across the realities, across the varying planes of existence, a universal struggle was unfolding, and they were but minor players on a cosmic stage that spanned far beyond their understanding.
Captain Marvel, a muscular man with flowing locks of golden hair; Black Widow, a man shrouded in the shadows of espionage; and Loki, a mischief-maker in female form—stood with stern expressions, their eyes focused intently on the god before them: Thor, the wielder of the Mind Stone.
Its pulsating blue glow illuminated Thor's chiseled face, lending an ethereal quality to the charged atmosphere. As if beckoned by an unspoken command, the trio lunged at him in coordinated precision, a blend of brute strength, agility, and magical trickery aimed at dislodging the Mind Stone from its powerful host.
Just as their energies converged in a surge of force that would have torn asunder lesser beings, an anomalous ripple in the space-time continuum brought their movement to a halt. A figure materialized before them—not stepping out of a portal, but appearing as if sewn into the fabric of reality itself. It was Harry, his presence bending the very light around him, making it waver as if distorted by an invisible heat.
Harry looked at the quartet, his eyes not of malice but of an impassable, chilling calm. With an upward flick of his wrist, tendrils of indescribable energy surged forth, more potent than anything they'd ever encountered, more bewildering than any spell in Loki's extensive grimoire.
Captain Marvel felt his cosmic powers siphon away, as if absorbed by a black hole, leaving him gasping for air. Black Widow, trained to evade every conceivable form of attack, found himself paralyzed, his covert skills rendered impotent. Loki attempted a desperate incantation, her voice tinged with an uncertainty she seldom felt, only to find her words swallowed by an echo of void.
With another gesture, almost meditatively slow, Harry looked at Thor, whose grip on the Mind Stone had become tentative under this unprecedented assault. A wave of kinetic energy washed over the Asgardian god, and the Mind Stone and him levitated away, suspended in mid-air as if contemplating its next course of action.
Then, as quickly as he had appeared, Harry waved his hand, and both he and the Mind Stone with Thor vanished into a rupture in space, leaving behind a reality violated, heroes vanquished, and an all-encompassing uncertainty that spread like dark ink in clear water.