Chapter 60:
[Spartan POV]
[New York City]
The reaper Dreadlord and I exchange blow after blow. My advantages are my combat skills. His advantage is my injury, and he's exploiting it to the fullest. Each strike reverberates through my body, sending waves of agony coursing through every fiber of my being. Despite my best efforts to hold my ground, I can feel the weight of my injuries bearing down upon me. Every blow lands with bone-crushing force, amplifying the pain that courses through my battered body and threatening to overwhelm me with its sheer intensity. Despite the searing agony that threatens to consume me, I refuse to back down, gritting my teeth against the pain as I press on. With each exchange, I'm reminded of the countless hours spent honing my combat skills and the endless drills and battles that have sharpened me into the warrior I am today. But even the most skilled fighter has limits, and I can feel mine rapidly approaching. Each movement becomes more labored, each strike a herculean effort against the mounting tide of pain and exhaustion. Yet, amidst the chaos of battle, a spark of determination ignites within me, driving me forward even as my body screams for respite. I draw upon reserves of strength I never knew I possessed, fueled by a singular purpose: to protect Wanda and ensure her safety at all costs. I double my efforts to overcome the relentless assault of the Dreadlord, channeling my energy into every strike, every parry, every desperate attempt to gain the upper hand. As the battle rages on, I find myself drawing strength from the sheer tenacity of my own spirit, pushing past the limits of my endurance in a bid to emerge victorious. Every fiber of my being is aflame with determination, a raging inferno that refuses to be extinguished by the chilling winds of adversity.
Wanda is holding her own against the female Dreadlord, dodging each of the Dreadlord's attacks and counter-attacking with finesse and precision. The fluidity of her movements is a testament to the countless hours spent honing her combat skills; her dedication to mastering close-quarters combat is evident in every graceful maneuver. Those training sessions with Cap and Natasha in CQC really paid off, imbuing her with the confidence and proficiency needed to face even the most formidable opponents head-on. With each deftly executed dodge, Wanda demonstrates not only her physical prowess but also her strategic acumen, anticipating her opponent's moves and capitalizing on their vulnerabilities with calculated efficiency. The dance of battle unfolds around her, a symphony of motion and skill as she navigates the chaotic fray with unwavering focus and determination. As the female Dreadlord launches a relentless onslaught of attacks, Wanda meets each one with calm resolve, her movements fluid and deliberate as she weaves effortlessly between strikes, her mind sharp and her reflexes honed to a razor's edge. There is a gracefulness to her combat style, a beauty in the way she seamlessly transitions from defense to offense, her strikes landing with pinpoint accuracy and devastating impact.
The reaper Dreadlord takes advantage of my momentary distraction, striking at my injury with a clawed hand. I let out a scream of pain and surprise as his talons tear through the flesh, reopening the wound with a vicious ferocity that sends shockwaves of agony coursing through my body. The intensity of the pain is like nothing I've ever experienced before, a searing fire that threatens to consume me whole. Every nerve in my body feels ablaze with torment, my senses overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the assault. As I reel from the blow, my mind races to comprehend the sudden turn of events. The Dreadlord's cunning knows no bounds, his predatory instincts finely honed to exploit even the slightest lapse in concentration. With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I realize the gravity of my mistake, the consequences of which are now painfully clear. Despite the overwhelming pain, I force myself to stand my ground. The Dreadlord, emboldened by his success, presses his advantage, raining down a relentless barrage of strikes upon me with a sadistic glee. Each blow lands with a crushing force, driving me to my knees as I struggle to stay upright against the onslaught. With each passing moment, the battle becomes a test of wills, a contest of endurance as I fight tooth and nail to keep the Dreadlord at bay. Despite the odds stacked against me. All easier said than done. As I struggle to regain my footing, I'm acutely aware of the daunting task. The Dreadlord's relentless assault shows no sign of abating, each strike chipping away at my resolve and pushing the limits. With every passing moment, the weight of the situation bears down upon me like a leaden cloak, threatening to crush me beneath its suffocating embrace. Despite my best efforts to rally, the odds seem insurmountable. The Dreadlord's strength and ferocity are unmatched, his attacks coming with such speed and precision that I barely have time to react. Each blow lands with crushing force.
A blow from the Dreadlord's spear sends me crashing to the concrete ground, the impact rattling my bones and leaving me momentarily stunned. Stars dance in my vision as I struggle to shake off the disorientation, but before I can even attempt to rise, the reaper Dreadlord is upon me once more. With a savage kick, he sends me sprawling back to the unforgiving pavement, each breath a struggle against the overwhelming pain that courses through my battered body. As I lay there, the Dreadlord looms over me like a dark specter. With a cruel sneer, he raises his spear high above his head, the glint of metal catching the faint light of the moon as he prepares to deliver the killing blow.
Suddenly, a shot rings out from a distance, hitting the Dreadlord's spear with a resounding clang. The spear, caught off guard by the unexpected impact, slips from the Dreadlord's grasp, clattering to the ground with a metallic thud. In the stunned silence that follows, I can scarcely believe my eyes as I witness the unexpected turn of events. It's as if fate itself has intervened on our behalf, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that surrounds us. Up on a nearby rooftop, I spot Karai, her silhouette illuminated by the faint glow of the moon, holding a still-smoking sniper rifle with practiced ease. Her steely gaze meets mine for a fleeting moment, a silent acknowledgment passing between us. Meanwhile, the reaper Dreadlord recoils in agony, his unearthly shriek piercing the night air like a blade. But this is no cry of anger or frustration; it is a sound borne of genuine pain. For the first time since our encounter began, I detect a flicker of uncertainty in the Dreadlord's eyes, a realization that even he is not invincible. His spear, I realize, is not just a weapon but also his greatest weakness. With it stripped from his grasp, he is vulnerable, his aura of invincibility shattered by the unexpected turn of events. It's a revelation that fills me with a renewed sense of determination as I prepare to press the advantage and turn the tide of battle.
Utilizing her enhanced speed, Karai blitzes toward the reaper Dreadlord. Her movements are a blur of motion as she closes the distance in the blink of an eye. "Don't allow him to reacquire his spear!" I yell out to Karai, "It's the source of his power!" If he were to reclaim the spear, our hard-won advantage would be lost, and we would once again find ourselves at the mercy of his relentless onslaught. Karai nods in understanding, her focus unwavering as she continues her lightning-fast approach. With a swift and fluid motion, Karai launches herself at the Dreadlord, her movements a whirlwind. She strikes with all the force of a tempest, her blows raining down upon the Dreadlord with a relentless fury that leaves him staggering in disbelief. It's a sight to behold. Karai engages the Dreadlord in a fierce and deadly dance. As the battle rages on, I can scarcely tear my eyes away from the spectacle before me. Each strike is a testament to Karai's skill. And though the Dreadlord may be a formidable opponent, I know with Karai by my side, we stand a fighting chance.
Back on my feet, I join Karai in the fight against the Dreadlord. My muscles tense with anticipation as I prepare to confront our formidable adversary once more. Despite the absence of his source of power, the Dreadlord proves himself to be a master combatant, his movements fluid and precise as he counters every strike with effortless grace. It's as if we're facing off against an opponent with eons of experience, his skill in battle-honed to perfection through countless centuries of conflict. With each exchange, I am reminded of the gravity of our situation and the daunting task that lies before us. The Dreadlord's prowess in combat is unmatched, his every move a testament to the depths of his skill and cunning. But even in the face of such overwhelming adversity, I refuse to yield, drawing upon every ounce of strength and determination within me to press the attack. Together, Karai and I move as one, our movements synchronized in perfect harmony as we strive to overwhelm the Dreadlord with a barrage of relentless attacks.
[Thanos POV]
[SHIELD Base, New Jersey]
I pass through the threshold of the portal and find myself in a wooded landscape, the air thick with the scent of pine and earth. Sunlight filters through the dense canopy above, casting dappled shadows across the forest floor as I take in my surroundings. Despite the landscape appearing empty and deserted at first glance, I sense a palpable energy thrumming in the air, an unmistakable indication of the stone's presence nearby. As I step forward, the pull of the stone grows stronger, a magnetic force drawing me inexorably toward its location. It's as if the very fabric of reality bends to accommodate its power, guiding me along a predetermined path toward my ultimate goal. With each step, I feel a surge of anticipation coursing through my veins, my senses heightened as I edge ever closer to the source of limitless power that lies ahead. The landscape shifts around me, the once-familiar surroundings giving way to a surreal dreamscape of twisted vines and gnarled branches that seem to reach out with grasping fingers. Yet still, I press forward, driven by a singular purpose that eclipses all else.
Deep within the wooded landscape, I come across a militarized fortress, its imposing silhouette rising like a monolith against the backdrop of the dense forest. At first glance, the fortress appears nearly invisible, its sleek, angular design blending seamlessly with the natural surroundings. It's a testament to the ingenuity of its creators, who have employed advanced cloaking technology to conceal their presence from prying eyes—a tactic I recognize as being reminiscent of my own standard, albeit executed with a degree of finesse that borders on the impressive. Approaching cautiously, I take note of the fortress's formidable defenses, its walls bristling with turrets and surveillance equipment that scan the surrounding area with unblinking vigilance. It's clear that this is no ordinary stronghold but rather a well-fortified bastion of military might, its purpose shrouded in mystery yet undoubtedly tied to the stone's presence in some way. As I draw nearer, the faint hum of the cloaking device becomes more pronounced, a low, ominous thrum that reverberates through the air like a warning.
[Vault.] I blast open the main entrance with a wave of my hand, the concussive force shattering the reinforced steel with ease then I make my way inside the fortress. The corridors stretch out before me like a labyrinth, dimly lit and eerily silent save for the echo of my footsteps against the cold, hard floors. As I progress deeper into the heart of the fortress, I am met with a grisly sight—the halls are riddled with the bodies of dead guards, their lifeless forms sprawled haphazardly amidst pools of congealing blood. Pausing to survey the scene, I take note of the carnage that surrounds me, my keen senses alert to any sign of movement or threat. A fierce battle has taken place here, one that ended in the slaughter of those unfortunate enough to stand in the way of whoever—or whatever—now lurks within these walls. 'There's someone else here other than me,' I observe. Navigating the maze-like corridors, I remain vigilant, my guard never faltering as I inch closer to the heart of the fortress. For I am Thanos, the Mad Titan, and no obstacle, no matter how formidable, shall stand in the way of my ultimate goal.
Following the stone's unseen pull, it leads me to a large room stored with multiple artifacts, each imbued with its own aura of power and significance. The air crackles with energy as I step into the chamber, my gaze sweeping over the array of ancient relics and mystical artifacts that line the walls. This room holds untold secrets, mysteries waiting to be uncovered by those bold enough to seek them out. In the center of the room stands a human male, his presence commanding attention as he dons a combat-suit complete with a purple mask that obscures his features. Flanked by other soldiers at his side, he exudes an air of authority that speaks volumes of his position. If this show of force is a tactic to intimidate me, it failed miserably. These humans, with their primitive weapons and feeble attempts at posturing, would pose no challenge to one such as myself. With a voice like thunder, I issue a warning that reverberates through the chamber, my words a promise of the destruction that awaits those foolish enough to stand in my way.
To my surprise, the human with the purple mask doesn't waver under my threat. His posture remains resolute, his gaze steady as he meets my own with a defiant stare. It's clear that he understands the gravity of the situation, yet there's a determination in his eyes that speaks volumes of his resolve. Not that he doesn't believe in the threat I pose—he understands it all too well. Rather, it seems that the man is willing to face the challenge head-on, undeterred by the overwhelming odds stacked against him. As I observe him more closely, I detect a glimmer of something beneath the surface—a familiar spark. It's a quality that I can respect, even admire, in a mortal such as him. For too long, I have encountered beings who cower in fear at the mere mention of my name, their wills broken by the weight of my power. But this human remains steadfast under my present. "Thanos, I presume," the man vocalizes my name, his tone steady and unwavering despite the dire circumstances that surround us. His words hang heavy in the air, a challenge veiled beneath a facade of civility. And yet, there's a hint of something else in his voice—a glimmer of respect, perhaps, or maybe even admiration for the power I wield. "I wish to strike a bargain with you," he presses on, his voice carrying a note of urgency that belies the gravity of his proposal. Curious, I allow him to continue, intrigued by the prospect of what he might offer. After all, in a universe governed by the laws of power and conquest, alliances of convenience are not uncommon, and even the most unlikely of partnerships can yield unexpected benefits.
The man presents the spear that houses the Mind stone, one of the prizes I've been seeking. It gleams ominously in the dim light of the chamber, its power radiating from within like a beacon of untold potential. As I gaze upon the artifact, a surge of anticipation courses through my veins, my mind already calculating the myriad ways in which I could harness its power to further my own ambitions. "This is what I propose. By giving you this artifact, you and your forces vacate my world immediately," the man states, his voice firm and unwavering as he lays out the terms of our potential agreement. It's a bold move, to be sure, offering up such a valuable prize in exchange for the expulsion of a powerful interloper such as myself. And yet, there's a shrewdness in his eyes that speaks volumes of his cunning. I flash a grin in response, understanding the message behind his words all too well. This planet is his world to conquer, his dominion to rule as he sees fit. And by offering me the Mind stone, he hopes to secure his position as its undisputed master, free from the threat of outside interference. The man in the purple mask reminds me of Loki, the god of mischief whose cunning and guile have impressed me at one point. But unlike Loki, who schemes and manipulates from the shadows, this man is willing to throw himself into the fray to get his hands dirty in pursuit of his goals. It's a quality that I can respect, even admire, in a mortal such as him—a willingness to do whatever it takes to achieve one's ambitions, no matter the cost. Considering his offer deeply, I weigh the risks and rewards carefully, each possibility playing out in my mind's eye with meticulous precision.
"No tricks," I say in a deadly tone while holding a hand for the spear. My voice carries the weight of my authority, a warning to anyone who would dare deceive me in this moment of negotiation. The man in the purple mask meets my gaze with a steely resolve, his own expression betraying no hint of duplicity as he relinquishes the artifact into my outstretched hand. As my fingers close around the cool metal of the spear, I can feel its power coursing through me, a tangible reminder of the prize I have just secured. It's a heady sensation, the thrill of victory mingled with the anticipation of what lies ahead. With a nod of acknowledgment, I turn to leave the chamber, the Mind stone cradled safely in my grasp. For the time being, I decided to uphold my end of the bargain.
The man's voice echoes behind me, "Before you exit my world. I request that you exterminate the AVENGERS. Leave their leader, Captain America, broken but alive." His words hang in the air like a challenge, a reminder of the delicate balance of power that exists between us. I pause in my steps, turning to regard him with a cool, calculating gaze. Peering at the man over my shoulder, I can sense the tension in the air, a silent standoff between two formidable adversaries. His request is not unexpected. And yet, there's a boldness in his demand that catches me off guard, a willingness to command the Mad Titan as if he were a mere servant at his beck and call. "Careful, mortal," I caution, my voice laced with a warning that carries the weight of my authority, "Do not assume that we are equals. The Mad Titan does not carry out tasks like a dog, obedient to the whims of its master." The man meets my gaze with a steely resolve, undeterred by my words. It's clear that he understands the risks of provoking me, yet he remains steadfast in his conviction, unwilling to back down from his demand. And though a part of me is tempted to crush him beneath my heel for his audacity, I know that such an act would only serve to escalate the situation further. Instead, I choose my words carefully, each syllable dripping with the promise of retribution should he overstep his bounds. "I will consider your request," I say, my tone cold, "But know this—I am not your servant, nor am I beholden to your will. The AVENGERS are ants beneath my boot, and their fate is of little consequence to me." With that, I turn and continue on my way, the weight of the Mind stone heavy in my hand. Though the man's words linger in the back of my mind, I know that my priorities lie elsewhere—my quest for ultimate power and dominion over all. And as I vanish into the shadows of the fortress, I am filled with a renewed sense of purpose.
[Wanda Maximoff POV]
[New York City]
As the battle progresses, the female Dreadlord grows increasingly frustrated, her movements becoming more erratic as she struggles to gain the upper hand. Despite her relentless onslaught, I refuse to yield. The female Dreadlord lands a powerful blow that sends me crashing to the ground. She attempts to press her advantage; I summon forth my hex magic, a swirling maelstrom of energy that crackles with raw power. With a flick of my wrist, I unleash a barrage of magical projectiles, each one striking true as I retaliate against her aggression. But even as I unleash my fury upon her, the female Dreadlord proves to be a formidable adversary, her own powers matched by her ferocity. With a snarl of frustration, she deflects my attacks with uncanny speed and agility. With a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins, I push myself to my feet, my muscles coiled like a tightly wound spring as I prepare to meet her head-on once more. Gathering my strength, I launch myself back into the fray. Each strike lands, the force of my blows driving her back with each successive hit. But still, she refuses to yield. We continue to clash with unbridled fury.
In the distance, Spartan and Karai are locked in a fierce battle with the reaper-like Dreadlord, their movements a blur of speed and precision as they strive to overcome their formidable enemy. Despite their combined strength and skill, the reaper Dreadlord proves to be a relentless opponent. He fends off their attacks with ease. Each passing moment, the tide of battle shifts back and forth, a constant struggle for dominance between predator and prey. Spartan and Karai fight with tenacity. Yet, for all their efforts, they find themselves continually on the defensive, forced to react to the reaper Dreadlord's relentless onslaught rather than dictate the course of the battle. Despite being two-on-one, the reaper Dreadlord is outmatching the two super-soldiers at every turn.
At this rate, the three of us are going to lose this fight against Dreadlords. The air crackles with the intensity of our clash, each movement charged with the weight of our collective determination. Sweat beads on my brow as I dodge another flurry of strikes from the female Dreadlord, her eyes burning with hate. With each passing moment, I can feel the exhaustion creeping into my muscles, a heavy reminder of the toll this battle is taking on my body. Beside me, Spartan and Karai continue to press their own assault against the reaper-like Dreadlord, their movements fluid and precise as they seek any opening to exploit. But the reaper Dreadlord outmatches them, his movements calculated and deliberate as he anticipates their every move with an almost preternatural instinct. Despite their best efforts, they struggle to find a chink in his formidable defenses. The sounds of battle echo through the streets, a cacophony of clashes and grunts as we fight tooth and nail for every inch of ground. The buildings around us stand as silent witnesses to our struggle. As I summon forth another surge of magic, I can't help but wonder how long we can keep this up.
Instantly, my chain of thought comes crashing to a stop once I see the reaper Dreadlord reclaim his spear and cut down Spartan and Karai. At that very moment, something within me snaps, forcing me to scream out in rage. A surge of mythical energy radiates across my being like a bombardment of tidal waves. It's as if the very fabric of reality quivers in response to my fury. The ground beneath me trembles as I unleash the full extent of my power, the air crackling with the sheer force of my magic. The reaper Dreadlord turns towards me, his eyes widening in surprise at the sheer magnitude of my power. With a primal roar, I launch myself towards him. Closing the distance between us, I summon forth tendrils of energy, weaving them into a whirlwind of destruction that swirls around me like a protective barrier. The reaper Dreadlord strikes out with his spear, but I am ready for him this time. With a flick of my wrist, I deflect his blow, the impact sending sparks flying in all directions. But I do not stop there. With a ferocious intensity burning in my eyes, I press my assault, driving the reaper Dreadlord back with a relentless barrage of magical attacks. Each strike lands with the force of a thunderbolt, wearing down his defenses with each passing moment. And then, with a final surge of energy, I unleash my ultimate attack, a devastating blast of magic that engulfs the reaper Dreadlord in a swirling vortex of destruction. For a moment, time seems to stand still as the very fabric of reality quivers beneath the weight of my unleashed power. And then, with a loud roar, the reaper Dreadlord is consumed by the inferno, his form dissolving into nothingness as my magic consumes him utterly.
Once the clash with the reaper Dreadlord ends, I turn to face the female Dreadlord. Her eyes fixed on me in shock and disbelief, and then, without a word, she turns and runs away. I peer down at my own hands, confusion swirling within me. I'm aware of my actions, of the surge of power that courses through my veins like wildfire. And yet, I'm not in control. Something primal and ancient has awakened within me, a force beyond my understanding.
[Spartan POV]
[New York City]
Employing her magic, Wanda weaves intricate threads of energy around us, knitting together the torn fabric of our beings with a delicate yet potent touch. As the healing unfolds, I can't help but marvel at the depths of her magic. It's a captivating sight. Each movement of her hands is purposeful, each incantation whispered with reverence as she orchestrates the intricate dance of restoration. The air hums with arcane energy. At that moment, amidst the swirling energies, I notice her hard expression—an expression I've seen only on a handful of occasions when she taps into the raw force of her powers. In those rare moments, Wanda becomes a force of nature. Despite the awe-inspiring spectacle unfolding before me, I can't shake the sense of concern that gnaws at the edges of my consciousness. Each time Wanda pushes herself to the limit, she risks losing herself to the overwhelming tide of magic. But even as the thought flickers in my mind, I am reassured by the unwavering strength of her resolve, by the unwavering commitment she holds to the greater good. Wanda rises to her feet. Without a word, she performs a series of hand signals, each gesture flowing seamlessly into the next, a silent symphony of magic and motion. With a flick of her wrist, tendrils of scarlet energy spiral outward, weaving intricate patterns in the air as she channels the last vestiges of her power into our transport spell. Continuing her incantations, the scarlet aura surrounding her intensifies, casting a warm glow that bathes the surrounding area in an otherworldly light. The next thing I know, Karai, Wanda, and I are back in Manhattan along with the rest of the Avengers.
Scanning the surroundings, I'm surprised to see Thanos's forces are not around. The titan and his army have completely vanished, leaving behind an eerie emptiness that permeates the air like a lingering shadow. It's as if they were never here at all, their presence evaporating into the ether with a silent swiftness. The absence of their formidable presence is both unsettling and perplexing, leaving me to ponder the implications of their sudden disappearance. Could it be a strategic retreat, a tactical maneuver designed to lull us into a false sense of security? Whatever the case may be, one thing is clear: Thanos is not one to be underestimated, and his absence only serves to heighten the tension that hangs in the air like a palpable weight. The whole team shares a perplexed gaze at each other. We stand amidst the towering skyscrapers of Manhattan; the city seems to hold its breath as if aware of the looming threat that still hovers on the horizon. After a full five minutes, it becomes clear Thanos and his forces are truly gone. It doesn't make any sense that the Mad Titan had us by the throats. We were outmatched and outgunned, so why abandon the invasion? The question hangs heavy in the air, lingering like a stubborn fog refusing to dissipate. We gather amidst the wreckage left in the wake of the battle. The silence that follows is deafening, each member of the Avengers grappling with their own theories and suspicions about Thanos's sudden retreat.
Unable to get answers, we turn our focus to more immediate matters, like securing innocent civilians who may have been caught in the battle's crossfire. The streets of Manhattan are littered with debris and buildings scarred by the violence, a stark testament to the ferocity of the conflict that has ravaged the city. Amidst the chaos, cries for help echo through the air. With grim determination etched upon our faces, we set about the Herculean task of aiding those in need. Working hand in hand with emergency services and local authorities, we navigate through the labyrinth of destruction. Searching for survivors buried beneath the wreckage. Each rescue is a small victory, a glimmer of hope amidst the despair. But for every life we save, there are countless others that we couldn't reach in time, a sobering realization that weighs heavily on our souls. The hours stretch into eternity, and exhaustion begins to set in, both physically and emotionally, the weight of our collective burden bearing down upon us like a leaden shroud. Yet still, we press on, propelled by an indomitable spirit that refuses to be extinguished by the specter of defeat.
[Thanos POV]
[Sanctuary, Space]
Once I received my prize, I decided to fulfill my end of the bargain and abandon the invasion of Earth, but I never said how long I would keep my end of the deal.
Standing upon the cold, unforgiving surface of Sanctuary, the weight of the Infinity Stones pulsating within the confines of my gauntlet, I cannot help but feel a surge of triumph course through my veins. The conquest of Earth was never my ultimate goal; it was merely a means to an end, a stepping stone on the path to achieving true cosmic balance. With the coveted Stones now in my possession, there is no obstacle too great, no force too formidable to thwart my grand design. Yet, as I gaze upon the stars stretching out before me, a sense of anticipation stirs within the depths of my being. Earth may have escaped my wrath for now, but its fate remains inexorably tied to the whims of destiny. I have granted them a reprieve, a fleeting moment of respite before the inevitable reckoning that awaits them. Make no mistake, I will return, and when I do, the full extent of my wrath shall be unleashed upon them with unrelenting fury. But for now, I bide my time, content to watch from the shadows as the mortals scurry about like ants, oblivious to the impending storm that looms on the horizon. They may think themselves safe, cocooned within the illusion of their false sense of security, but they are mere pawns in the cosmic game that I alone have the power to dictate. And when the time comes, they will bow before me, their futile resistance crushed beneath the weight of my divine will.
