Marvel: From the Void and Back Again, Part 2
Chapter 35: The Symbiotic Stone and The Process
…
Across the vast, interconnected web of the multiverse, there were those who observed the changing tides. Beings beyond comprehension, older than time itself, watched the small planet Earth—along with its solar system and surrounding galaxy, with growing concern. What had once been just another planet on the verge of self-destruction had suddenly become the focal point of cosmic upheaval.
Peter-Knull's influence had spread, weaving itself into the very fabric of reality within the galaxy. His symbiotic network had formed a grid-like fortress around Earth, a complex, living system that extended far beyond the reach of any single government or entity. It was as if the entire galaxy had become a strategic battleground, with Earth at its heart, a fortress no one could penetrate. And the inter-universal community had taken notice.
…
In the cosmic halls where beings like Galactus, the Celestials, and the Living Tribunal gathered, the atmosphere was tense. Among the most ancient entities, the Tribunal's voice echoed a growing sense of paranoia. His many faces, Justice, Necessity, and Vengeance, spoke in unsettling harmony.
"The balance is being disrupted," the Tribunal had warned countless times, his cosmic gaze fixed on the changes within the Milky Way galaxy. "Peter-Knull is meddling with the natural order. His symbiotic structures violate the flow of entropy, delaying the inevitable. This galaxy, and Earth in particular, have become an anomaly."
Galactus, the Devourer of Worlds, loomed silently. Though his purpose was singular—consumption, he could not ignore how Earth had escaped his grasp time and time again. It was one thing for the planet to harbor powerful heroes, but this... this was something more. Peter-Knull was fundamentally altering the galaxy's future.
The Celestials, towering and emotionless in their judgment, were among those most concerned. These cosmic arbiters of life and death had their own rules, their own methods. They observed civilizations from their inception to their technological apex, and when a planet's progress reached a tipping point, the Celestials would come to either harvest the population or cleanse it entirely, starting the cycle anew.
Peter-Knull's actions complicated this process.
…
In a distant, unknown sector of the universe...
Arishem the Judge, leader of the Celestials, stood at the helm of a vast assembly of his kind. Their glowing forms hovered over a holographic projection of the Milky Way, the entire galaxy encased in an intricate, symbiotic grid that pulsed with unnatural life.
"This is a perversion," Arishem's voice boomed, his deep, mechanical tone reverberating through the vast chamber. "The natural progression of civilizations must not be interfered with. Peter-Knull's influence disrupts the Celestial order."
One of the other Celestials, Exitar the Exterminator, nodded in agreement. "Worlds like Earth, left unchecked, have reached this point in the past. We intervened. But this... this technology, this living grid he has created, it prevents our intervention."
To the Celestials, Peter-Knull's growing power represented a threat to the cosmic order they had maintained for eons. His symbiotic grid was not just technological—it was alive, adapting, feeding off the very energy of the galaxy. Worse still, it protected the worlds within its embrace from outside interference, delaying the Celestials' sacred duty to purge civilizations when they became too advanced.
Elsewhere, in the Court of the Living Tribunal...
The Tribunal's faces flickered, each representing a different aspect of cosmic balance. His many voices spoke in a chorus, their tones filled with urgency.
"Peter-Knull has surpassed even the Celestials' understanding of creation. His symbiotic universe threatens to unravel the cosmic laws we have upheld since the dawn of time. This cannot be allowed to continue."
"But what course of action remains?" Justice asked.
Necessity's voice responded, cold and unwavering. "The Celestials must act. Their mandate—to observe and intervene when civilizations reach too far—is clear. If Peter-Knull interferes with their duty, they will be forced to view him as an obstacle to be eradicated."
The Tribunal's gaze shifted, considering the consequences of such a clash. Peter-Knull's power was vast, and his ability to create and manipulate life itself, through both biological and cosmic means, was growing, and if they did nothing, then Peter-Knull has already won.
…
Far from the battlegrounds of Earth and the celestial conflicts brewing beyond the stars, deep within the twisting, fiery chaos of Limbo, Mephisto found himself pacing. His once smug grin had long since faded, replaced with a simmering frustration that even the Lord of Hell couldn't hide. The infernal realm around him, usually filled with the sounds of wailing souls and shifting landscapes of agony, now felt eerily quiet, oppressive even.
It had been weeks, no, months, since he had last managed to cross into the mortal realm. His infernal powers had always given him free reign to slip between dimensions, but now, an unprecedented obstacle barred his way. Every time he tried to push through, to find even the smallest crack to crawl through, something stopped him. A presence. A barrier. And it wasn't just any barrier. It was one unlike anything he had ever encountered.
Peter-Knull had been busy.
Limbo, the dimension that once acted as a doorway to Earth for countless demonic entities, had been fortified. No, not just fortified, transformed. A galaxy-sized buffer zone now encased Limbo like an iron cage, locking the infernal powers within and keeping the mortal realm free from their grasp.
Mephisto stood before the shimmering, crackling gate that separated him from the world of the living, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. A faint, pulsing web of symbiotic magic wove itself through the fabric of Limbo, creating a labyrinth of barriers, checkpoints, and impossibilities. It was as if the entire dimension had been mapped and locked down by Knull's influence, making it virtually impenetrable.
He snarled, his hand reaching out to test the gate one more time. His clawed fingers crackled with hellfire as they met the shimmering, blackened web of symbiotic magic—but again, he was rebuffed, the energy sparking against his skin and forcing him back with a frustrated growl.
"Damn him," Mephisto muttered under his breath, pacing in agitation. The irony of it all stung deeply, and for the first time in eons, he was trapped. Trapped in the very infernal realm he had once ruled with impunity. Peter-Knull had created something... something that even Hell could not breach.
…
Back on Earth, in the SHIELD Command Center
The news reached Nick Fury's desk with the same grim intensity that everything else involving Peter-Knull seemed to carry. It had been whispered through contacts, filtered down through magical circles, but the message was clear enough.
"Sir..." one of the SHIELD agents began, nervously adjusting her headset as she relayed the report. "We've received... confirmation of Mephisto's absence. He hasn't been able to cross into Earth's dimension since his failed invasion."
Fury looked up from the staggering 200-page report Peter-Knull had left on his desk, not even halfway through it. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for the catch.
"Apparently," the agent continued, flipping through the data. "He's trapped. The entire infernal realm is... blocked off."
Fury blinked, taking in the news with a deep sigh. "Blocked off? By what?"
"By Knull's barrier, sir." The agent hesitated, as if even saying it out loud felt wrong. "He set up a symbiotic buffer zone around Limbo. It spans the entire dimension, preventing Mephisto and any other infernal beings from crossing into our realm. They can only slip through... the edges, barely. And even then, it's... difficult. It's almost impossible for them to enter Earth unless... well, unless they're summoned."
Fury sat back in his chair, rubbing his temples as the news sank in. Peter-Knull had essentially cut off one of the most ancient and malevolent powers in existence from the mortal plane. And worse still... he had done it without so much as a warning.
"Well, that explains why we haven't seen any infernal incursions lately," Fury muttered, though his tone was far from relieved. "But what's Mephisto doing now?"
The agent hesitated again. "According to our sources... he's trapped. Furious, but trapped. He's been trying to find a way around it, but Knull's buffer is so vast, so intricately woven into the dimensional fabric, that he can't get through. He's... stuck, sir."
…
Back in Limbo...
Mephisto leaned against one of the obsidian gates that barred him from Earth, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. There was no denying the irony of the situation, he, the master manipulator, the devil incarnate, was now trapped by a mere mortal who had transcended his original nature to become something far more. The humiliation was almost unbearable.
"What a twist," he muttered to himself, running a clawed hand through his fiery hair. "I've tricked souls for millennia, pulled the strings of gods and demons alike, and now... I can't even step through the door. Knull... you've outdone yourself, haven't you?"
The barrier hummed quietly in response, unyielding as ever. Mephisto narrowed his eyes, watching the black symbiotic webbing that wove through the very fabric of Limbo. It was beautiful, in a way—terrifying, yes, but beautiful. It shimmered with energy, pulsing as if it were alive, always shifting, always adapting.
But despite his admiration for its craftsmanship, Mephisto couldn't shake the anger bubbling within him. He was a prisoner in his own realm, and Peter-Knull had made sure of that.
The only cracks in the barrier were on the fringes of Limbo, but even then, they were barely enough to allow a trickle of infernal influence into the mortal realm. He could no longer walk freely on Earth, could no longer manipulate or make deals like he once had. His power had been curbed, and there was little he could do about it.
He slammed his fist into the gate, watching as the black webbing rippled but remained solid.
"Damn you, Knull," Mephisto growled, his voice echoing through the hellish dimension. "You've caged me. But you won't keep me here forever. Sooner or later, I'll find a way through. And when I do..."
His voice trailed off as he stared into the shimmering darkness, the realization of his current situation gnawing at him. For now, he had no choice but to wait, to bide his time until he could find a crack, a weakness in Knull's perfect defense.
But for now... Hell itself, or his hell, had been sealed.
…
Back in the Command Center
Fury leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as the weight of everything settled in. It seemed every time Peter-Knull acted, it was like dropping a bomb on the cosmic scale. He hadn't just fortified Earth, he had fortified the universe. Even the forces of Hell couldn't breach the walls Knull had built.
"You've got to be kidding me," Fury muttered, shaking his head as the implications sank in. "We've been dealing with infernal incursions for centuries, and now... he's just... cut them off."
The SHIELD agent nodded, though she looked as stunned as everyone else. "Yes, sir. Mephisto is... trapped. He can't get past the barrier."
Fury chuckled darkly, though there was no humor in his voice. "Of course. Why not?"
The galaxy was changing. The universe was changing. And now, even the forces of Hell had been forced to reckon with the reach of Peter-Knull.
"Keep me updated," Fury said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "If anything else comes through... I want to know."
The agent nodded and quickly exited, leaving Fury alone with his thoughts. The ever-growing web of influence that Peter-Knull had cast was far larger than anyone could have anticipated. Even Mephisto, the lord of Hell, was now trapped in the snare.
…
The Celestials loomed in the silent vacuum of space, their immense forms towering over entire solar systems, their inscrutable faces lit only by the dim glow of distant stars. Word of Peter-Knull's actions had spread like wildfire through the inter-universal community, and the news that even Mephisto, the Lord of Hell, had been trapped by Knull's symbiotic grid was the latest revelation that sent ripples through the cosmic order.
For eons, the Celestials had maintained balance, judging civilizations and eradicating those that had reached too far, purging entire planets to reset the natural order of things. But now, they were confronted with something different—something that defied their authority, mocked their purpose. Peter-Knull's influence wasn't just spreading across Earth—it was rewriting the galaxy.
Arishem the Judge, leader of the Celestials, stood silent at the helm of his brethren. The vast cosmic tribunal floated in the ether, their gaze fixed on the Milky Way galaxy, now encased in the symbiotic fortress Peter-Knull had woven. The galaxy pulsed like a living thing, a fortress built from the very essence of creation, all centered around Earth.
"This cannot stand," Arishem's voice echoed, cold and mechanical. The stars themselves seemed to shudder under the weight of his words. "Peter-Knull has created a perversion of the natural order. Life, energy, matter, and now... time itself bend to his will. He has disrupted the flow of progress, of judgment."
The Celestials, beings of pure cosmic authority, had never been challenged like this. Their purpose, to oversee the rise and fall of civilizations, was being interrupted. Peter-Knull's influence was shielding planets that should have been purged, trapping demonic entities like Mephisto, and now preventing them from executing their sacred duty.
Exitar the Exterminator, a towering Celestial known for bringing final judgment, let out a mechanical hum of agreement. "The time has come to cleanse this galaxy, to restore the balance that has been upset by his actions."
They observed the symbiotic grid, noting how it seemed to pulse with its own energy, flowing like a living organism. It wasn't just technology, it was something far beyond that. Peter-Knull had created life itself on a scale that rivaled the Celestials' own creations, and he had the audacity to challenge their authority in doing so.
Arishem's voice thundered once more. "We will proceed with the eradication of Peter-Knull's influence. The galaxy will be purged. He will not stand in the way of the Celestial Order."
…
Elsewhere, in the Court of the Living Tribunal…
The Living Tribunal stood in his grand court, his three faces, Justice, Necessity, and Vengeance, reflecting the growing fury that rippled through the cosmic hierarchy. The Tribunal's authority was absolute, and yet, the ripple effects of Peter-Knull's actions were being felt even here. The Tribunal had seen beings defy the natural order before, but none had ever done so with such precision, such… deliberation.
"He mocks the cosmic balance," Vengeance spoke, his voice a low, simmering rumble. "His actions disrupt the order we have maintained for eons. Over, and over, and over again..."
Necessity, the face that represented balance and continuity, chimed in next. "Peter-Knull has rewritten the rules of creation. His influence now extends across time, space, and matter. He has even silenced the infernal powers, trapping Mephisto within his own realm."
Justice's voice rang out, cold and impartial. "The balance must be restored. Peter-Knull's actions cannot go unchallenged. His fortress, his symbiotic universe, are a violation of cosmic law."
But despite their fury, the Tribunal knew one thing: Peter-Knull was no ordinary threat. His powers extended beyond mere manipulation of life. He had rewritten reality itself in ways that even the Celestials struggled to comprehend. The Tribunal's attention had been fully fixed on Peter-Knull now, and in the higher realms, the One Above All was surely watching with growing concern.
…
Meanwhile, in the farthest reaches of space…
Thanos, the Mad Titan, sat on the edge of a distant asteroid, his dark eyes reflecting the glow of a nearby star. He had been watching the events surrounding Peter-Knull with keen interest, and the news of Mephisto's entrapment had reached his ears as well.
The irony of the entire situation did not escape him.
Peter-Knull, this so-called "Symbiote God"—had become the thorn in the side of the greatest cosmic powers. He had created a galaxy-spanning fortress, bent the very fabric of time and space to his will, and now had the Celestials themselves questioning their purpose. And yet… the man had no desire to rule, no interest in being worshiped.
Thanos laughed, a deep, dark laugh that echoed through the void.
"How utterly… hilarious," he mused, his voice thick with amusement. "A god among symbiotes, a creator of entire universes… and yet all he wants is to live as a man? To not be worshiped? To not ascend the throne of power laid at his feet?"
The Mad Titan's eyes gleamed with delight at the absurdity of it all. "He's making a mockery of the very hierarchy that's been in place since time began. The Celestials, the Tribunal, Mephisto… they all scramble like rats, trying to understand a being who couldn't care less about their cosmic games."
To Thanos, who had spent his life pursuing balance, wielding the Infinity Stones, and seeking to impress his own vision of order on the universe, Peter-Knull's indifference to power was the ultimate irony. This being could rewrite reality itself, bend time and space, and create life from nothingness—and yet he refused the very thing all the other gods and cosmic entities sought.
"He's disrupting the order… simply by existing," Thanos said, almost gleeful. "And the best part? He doesn't even care. He's not out to conquer. He's not out to prove a point. He's just… living. And in doing so, he's driving the Celestials mad."
Thanos leaned back, staring up at the endless expanse of stars. "In a way, I almost admire him," he admitted to himself. "I've spent my life seeking balance, imposing it through force… and here's Peter-Knull, achieving it by doing nothing but… being."
The Mad Titan's smile widened, the sharp gleam of his teeth catching the starlight. "Yes… this is the kind of chaos I can appreciate. A god who has no desire to rule, yet causes the gods themselves to tremble. How utterly… delicious."
Thanos' laughter echoed once more through the void, his mind turning to how the cosmic game had just shifted. The Celestials, the Living Tribunal, even the infernal forces of Hell, they were all scrambling to maintain control in a universe that no longer obeyed their rules.
And Thanos? He was simply enjoying the show.
…
Half a day later…
Thanos sat upon his throne aboard his massive warship, the Sanctuary II, the dark expanse of space spread out before him like a canvas. The void was his domain, where he plotted and watched as the universe unraveled, always calculating, always seeking the next step toward the balance he craved. His brooding thoughts were interrupted by the quiet approach of Corvus Glaive, one of his most trusted lieutenants, who stepped forward with an air of hesitation.
"My Lord," Corvus said, bowing slightly, his tone carefully measured. "There are... developments. Two, to be precise."
Thanos shifted his gaze toward Corvus, the glow of distant stars reflected in his cold, calculating eyes. His patience was thin—he did not tolerate unnecessary interruptions, but something in Corvus' demeanor piqued his curiosity.
"Speak," Thanos commanded, his deep voice echoing through the dimly lit chamber.
Corvus straightened, though there was a flicker of tension in his posture. He knew this news would provoke a reaction from his master. "The first development concerns one of Peter-Knull's allies—an alternate version of Peter Parker, known as Death-Spider. He has allied himself with an incarnation of Mistress Death, my lord. His lover," Corvus added carefully, allowing the gravity of the situation to sink in.
Thanos' eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, the room seemed to grow colder, the darkness tightening around them. "Mistress Death," he repeated slowly, his voice dripping with both reverence and possessive intensity.
The very mention of Mistress Death sent a ripple through Thanos' soul. His unrequited love for her was legendary, a devotion so deep it had driven him to extremes beyond even his usual merciless tendencies. For eons, he had courted her, worshiped her, and done everything within his vast power to gain her favor. And now, this... Death-Spider, an alternate Peter Parker of all beings, had somehow won her love.
"And she is... expecting?" Thanos asked, his tone dangerous, the words deliberate.
Corvus nodded, the tension was simmering beneath the surface. "Yes, my lord. Mistress Death is expecting his twin children. Beings of unimaginable cosmic potential."
A long silence followed as Thanos processed the information. His mind raced, calculating every angle. An alternate version of his beloved, pregnant with the children of an insignificant mortal—albeit a version of Peter Parker who had somehow ascended to cosmic relevance. It was more than enough to capture his attention, to stir something deep within him. Jealousy? Perhaps. Curiosity? Absolutely.
Thanos clenched his fist, the faint sound of cracking knuckles filling the air. His eyes burned with cold fire. "Continue," he said, his voice a low growl, though his expression betrayed none of the storm brewing within him.
Thanos sat upon his dark throne, his gaze fixed on the void beyond the Sanctuary II. The silence of space was a balm to his ever-calculating mind, but today, it was disturbed by unsettling news. His fingers drummed against the armrest, his impatience held in check only by the knowledge that Corvus Glaive never brought trivial matters to him.
Corvus, standing rigidly before his master, had just finished delivering the first piece of information, about Death-Spider and his twin children, born of an alternate version of Mistress Death. The news had sent a ripple through Thanos' cold heart, stirring jealousy, curiosity, and the bitter taste of irony.
Thanos' fist clenched, the knuckles cracking under the strain. His eyes, burning with cold fire, bore into Corvus as he commanded, "Continue."
Corvus took a breath, knowing the next revelation would also strike a nerve. "We found two individuals on the borders of one of our worlds," he began, his tone cautious. "One of them... is a Spider-Man, an alternate version from another universe, who belonged to the Black Order in his reality."
Thanos' interest deepened. A Spider-Man from the Black Order? That was unusual. The Mad Titan had always seen Peter Parker as the symbol of resilient yet insignificant hope—never one to align himself with the likes of the Black Order. But this was not an ordinary version of Peter Parker.
But now, there was more.
"Continue," Thanos commanded, his voice laced with tension, though his composure remained unbroken.
Corvus Glaive, always attuned to his master's moods, spoke carefully, choosing his words with precision. "There is another development, my lord."
Thanos' eyes narrowed slightly. He sensed that whatever came next would hold equal importance.
"We discovered two individuals on the borders of one of our worlds," Corvus began, his tone steady. "The first is a Peter Parker, but not the one we have encountered before. This version of Spider-Man belonged to the Black Order of his own universe. He was molded in the shadows, much like our own operatives."
Thanos tilted his head slightly at the mention of a Black Order Spider-Man. That alone was intriguing. An alternate Peter Parker, who had chosen darkness over heroism, who had embraced the ways of death and destruction, rather than fighting against them. This version of Spider-Man had aligned himself with the likes of Corvus, Ebony Maw, and the others—serving Thanos in his own universe.
"And who is the second?" Thanos asked, his voice low but commanding. He could feel the weight of the next piece of information coming.
Corvus hesitated for just a moment, though it was hardly noticeable. "He is not alone, my lord. He is accompanied by his wife, an alternate version of Proxima Midnight."
The very mention of Proxima Midnight sent a ripple through the air around them. Thanos' eyes darkened, his attention fully fixed on Corvus now. Proxima Midnight, one of the deadliest warriors of the Black Order, was fiercely loyal to Thanos in this universe. Her mastery of her spear, capable of tearing through any material and never missing its mark, was legendary. She was both a trusted lieutenant and an unparalleled warrior, always by Thanos' side in the most important battles.
To hear that an alternate version of Proxima Midnight had allied herself with this Black Order Spider-Man was... unexpected.
"Proxima Midnight," Thanos repeated, his voice cold and thoughtful. He knew her well—the brutality, the cunning, the unswerving loyalty to his cause. But in another universe, it seemed her allegiance had shifted, or at least evolved, toward an alternate Peter Parker. "And they are stranded here?"
Corvus nodded, careful to keep his posture submissive. "Yes, my lord. They have been displaced from their universe and found themselves at the edges of our controlled worlds. They contacted us as soon as they recognized the Black Order's influence, hoping to negotiate their safe passage or assistance in returning to their dimension."
Thanos leaned back in his throne, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest. This new development was intriguing, but it raised questions. What sort of Spider-Man had this Proxima Midnight aligned herself with? And why? The Proxima he knew was loyal, deadly, and always faithful to the Black Order's mission of destruction and conquest. What had changed in that other universe?
"And they seek my help?" Thanos asked, a faint smirk curling at the edge of his lips. The idea that anyone—let alone a version of Spider-Man and Proxima Midnight, would come to him, pleading for assistance, was almost amusing.
"Yes, my lord," Corvus confirmed. "They are aware of your connection to the Black Order across realities. They believe their knowledge of the Order from their own universe may be of value."
Thanos' fingers paused, his eyes glinting with curiosity. "Knowledge, you say? And what do they offer in return?"
Thanos' dark gaze bore into Corvus Glaive as he processed the intriguing developments. The Mad Titan was no stranger to alternate realities or the strange fates that crossed universes, but this news was unlike any he had heard before. The idea of a Black Order Spider-Man, aligned with an alternate version of Proxima Midnight, was enough to pique his interest. Yet there was more—something that caused the faintest hint of a smirk to tug at the edge of his lips.
"Knowledge, you say?" Thanos' fingers tapped the armrest of his throne, his voice laced with curiosity. "And what do they offer in return?"
Corvus Glaive stood tall, his posture impeccable despite the weight of what he was about to reveal. He knew how dangerous it was to deliver information that might push Thanos further into his already calculating rage, but he also knew this was the moment his master would want to hear.
"They claim to know Peter-Knull personally, my lord," Corvus began carefully, watching for any reaction. "He's aided them in the past. This Spider-Man, they say, acts as a mediator of sorts on his Earth, between the heroes and villains, and even with your counterpart. He maintains the balance on that world."
Thanos raised an eyebrow at the mention of balance, a concept he had always sought but in his own way. "A mediator... of balance?" he repeated, the faintest trace of amusement in his voice.
Corvus nodded. "Yes, my lord. Alongside other heroes of that Earth, this Peter Parker has played a role in ensuring stability, even assisting your counterpart when the Knull of that world attempted to devour you alive. It was with Peter-Knull's help that they were able to repel that version of Knull."
At the mention of Knull, Thanos' eyes gleamed. The god of symbiotes was a being of great power, and any tale of him attempting to consume Thanos—whether in another reality or not—was worth listening to. But it wasn't just the connection to Peter-Knull that held Thanos' attention. There was more.
"They brought with them... an artifact, my lord," Corvus added, his tone lowering as if the weight of his words carried a secret. "A stone. One unknown to us. They called it the Symbiote Stone."
Thanos' smirk vanished. His full attention was now on Corvus. The Infinity Stones were his domain—no stone escaped his knowledge. Or so he had thought. "The Symbiote Stone?" he asked slowly, each word dripping with curiosity and caution.
Corvus stepped forward slightly, knowing the gravity of what he was about to reveal. "Yes, my lord. They claim it was a gift, no, a trust, given to them by Peter-Knull. According to them, the stone contains the seventh cosmic force, symbiotic magic, something akin to the Odin-force that is wielded only by Odin, but entirely unique to Peter-Knull."
Thanos' fingers froze mid-tap, his eyes narrowing. Symbiotic magic, an entirely new force of cosmic power, something beyond even the six Infinity Stones he had once wielded? His mind raced, calculating the possibilities. If this stone truly held such a power, then it could rival the very forces that controlled the universe itself.
Corvus continued, sensing the growing tension. "However, they claim the stone can only be wielded by those who earn its trust, those who master themselves, as they put it, or 'become one's own master.' It is said that only those who understand themselves completely can access its true potential. This is why they have brought it to you, my lord."
Thanos leaned forward, his massive form casting an even darker shadow over the room. He studied Corvus closely, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous intensity. "They claim they know how to use this stone?"
Corvus shook his head. "Not entirely, my lord. But they believe they can tell us more about it, with time, and perhaps with your guidance, they can unlock its true potential. They say the stone is... sentient, in a way. It chooses its wielder. If you prove yourself worthy, it will allow you to harness its power."
For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of the revelation sinking in. Thanos, the Mad Titan, conqueror of worlds and wielder of the Infinity Stones, was now faced with the prospect of a new power, one that could reshape his understanding of the cosmos itself. The idea that the Symbiote Stone required "self-mastery" to wield it intrigued him. Thanos had always believed himself to be the ultimate master of his own fate, the embodiment of balance in the universe. But this... this was a challenge, and one that he could not ignore.
"Interesting," Thanos murmured, his voice thick with contemplation. The idea of possessing another Infinity Stone—one that was entirely new, entirely unknown to the universe at large—was a temptation he could hardly resist. And yet, it wasn't just about the power. It was about the control—the mastery of a force so elusive that even Knull himself, the god of symbiotes, had shared it with only a select few.
The Mad Titan's eyes glinted with dangerous ambition as he leaned back in his throne, his fingers resuming their rhythmic tapping against the armrest.
"So," Thanos said, his voice calm but brimming with anticipation, "they come to me with a gift—a stone that wields power unlike any I've encountered. And they claim to have knowledge of Peter-Knull and this new force of magic."
Corvus bowed his head. "Yes, my lord. They are willing to share everything they know, in exchange for your aid and protection."
Thanos' smirk returned, though it was colder this time, more calculating. "Very well. Bring them to me. I wish to meet these two... and see if they are truly worthy of the favor they seek."
"As you command, my lord," Corvus said, bowing deeply before turning to carry out Thanos' orders.
Thanos remained seated, his mind racing with possibilities. The idea of a stone that contained the seventh cosmic force, symbiotic magic, was a temptation that could not be ignored. And if these two—this Black Order Spider-Man and his alternate Proxima Midnight—had knowledge of it, then they could prove useful indeed.
The Mad Titan's fingers drummed against the armrest, his dark smile widening as he contemplated the future. The cosmic hierarchy had always been a delicate balance of power, but with this new stone, that balance could shift, permanently.
"Master thyself," Thanos murmured to himself, the phrase echoing in his mind. He had always believed himself to be the master of his own fate, the architect of his own destiny. And now, with the Symbiote Stone in play, he would have the chance to prove it once more.
The game was changing, and Thanos intended to win.
…
Thanos sat on his throne, his gaze cast over the dark expanse of his cosmic domain. The atmosphere in the chamber was tense, the Black Order surrounding him in silent anticipation. Corvus Glaive stood at the forefront, flanked by Proxima Midnight and the rest of the elite warriors. But there was something different today, a presence that commanded even their respect. The displaced Peter Parker of the Black Order from another universe and his wife, an alternate version of Proxima Midnight, knelt before him. And in Peter's hands, they brought an object, something none had ever seen before.
It was the black and red stone.
It pulsated faintly, veins of dark energy writhing beneath its surface like a living entity. The patterns that spread across its surface seemed to form and shift, as though aware of their surroundings, responding to the emotions of those nearby. The air itself felt heavier in its presence, as if reality was bending ever so slightly around the stone.
Peter Parker of the alternate universe, now known as the "Spider," stepped forward cautiously, holding the stone in both hands. His face was shadowed by the weight of what he carried, his eyes flicking briefly to his Proxima Midnight, who gave him a reassuring nod.
"My lord," Death-Spider spoke, his voice steady but burdened. "We came here knowing only you could help us return home, and in return we offer this stone. The stone was gifted to us by Peter-Knull. It holds a power unlike any we've seen, but only if one can master thy self."
Thanos' eyes locked onto the stone. He felt it, the weight of its power, the ancient pull it held, something beyond even the multiversal forces he had studied and sought to control. Mistress Death, standing silently at his side, narrowed her eyes, her skeletal form shifting slightly. Even she, the embodiment of death itself, could sense that the stone was not something within her dominion.
"This stone... what is its nature?" Thanos asked, though his voice betrayed no fear, only intrigue.
Spider hesitated for a moment, as if struggling to find the words. "It's… a key. A test. It was crafted by Peter-Knull, but it is tied to something higher than the gods of our multiverse. It holds no allegiance to the One Above All or the One Below All. Its power… its very essence... lies outside the reach of the cosmic order."
Proxima Midnight, Thanos' trusted lieutenant, looked on with a rare expression of unease. Her hand instinctively drifted toward the spear at her side. She could feel it too—this stone wasn't just a weapon or an artifact. It was something alive. Something that shouldn't exist in their realm.
Mistress Death shifted beside Thanos, her ethereal form flickering. "This power... it does not belong to the cosmic balance. It is something beyond." Her voice, usually calm and knowing, held an edge of uncertainty. For the first time, Death seemed unsure.
Thanos stood, his towering form casting a long shadow over Spiderand his alternate Proxima Midnight. He reached out his massive hand, taking the stone from them, and the moment he did, a strange, almost symbiotic connection formed. He could feel the stone's essence wrapping itself around his thoughts, testing him, searching the depths of his soul. It wasn't just power—it was a force of reckoning.
As he held it, images flashed through his mind, visions of his past, of his home planet Titan, of his ruthless pursuit of balance, of the countless lives he had taken. But there was something more—a sensation that this stone knew him. It wasn't just a tool, it was a mirror, reflecting his greatest fears and ambitions back at him.
And then, he felt it, Peter-Knull's presence.
Even though Peter-Knull was not physically there, Thanos could sense him, feel his influence woven into the very fabric of the stone's power. The stone was not just a key to another plane, it was a gateway to Peter-Knull's higher existence, a place where beings like the Living Tribunal and the cosmic gods held no sway.
"This is beyond anything in our multiverse," Thanos murmured, almost to himself. His voice was low, but the weight of realization pressed down on him. "A power that even the One Above All cannot command… a power not bound by creation or destruction."
The Black Order stood motionless, their minds struggling to comprehend what they were witnessing. They had seen countless stones of power—the Infinity Stones, the Celestial artifacts—but this… this was different. Even their unwavering loyalty to Thanos was tested in the face of such a profound mystery.
Corvus Glaive, ever the tactician, stepped forward. "My lord, if this stone is tied to Peter-Knull, then it must have a purpose. What do you believe it wants?"
Thanos remained silent for a moment, his fingers tightening around the stone. He could feel it probing him, searching for something deeper. But it wasn't trying to dominate him—it was testing him.
Finally, he spoke, his voice filled with the gravitas of a being who had seen the edges of the universe. "This stone is not meant to be controlled by those who seek dominion. It seeks those who are ready to face themselves. To balance not the universe... but their own soul."
Mistress Death looked at Thanos, her eyes burning with curiosity and something else, concern. "And are you ready?"
Thanos, still holding the stone, stared into its shifting depths. For the first time in his life, he wasn't sure of the answer.
"This power," he said slowly, "is not for the faint of heart. It is a reckoning. And I will face it."
As Thanos prepared for the journey the stone would take him on, the Black Order remained on edge. They could sense it too, that this stone was unlike any other, and the trial it presented would either strengthen their lord... or destroy him.
But as Thanos clutched the stone tighter, he couldn't shake the feeling that Peter-Knull was watching, guiding, and perhaps... offering him a chance to find something he had long thought lost, balance.
As Thanos reached out, his fingers brushed the surface of the black and red stone. Immediately, a pulse of energy surged through him, and before he could react, the world around him shifted. Time itself seemed to warp, days passing in mere moments, as he and his Black Order were drawn into the reality and existence which the stone operates…
…
The realm they found themselves in was unlike anything Thanos had encountered—a perfect harmony of light and darkness, chaos and order. It was surreal, balancing contradictions seamlessly. It felt ancient, primal, and yet alive. The air crackled with energy, and the ground seemed to hum beneath his feet.
The Black Order, though present, were distant figures in the landscape, almost like mirages. They were there, but this trial was not theirs, it was his alone. Thanos could sense this was a realm of reckoning. He could feel its weight bearing down on him.
He took a step forward, the world shifting subtly as if reacting to his movements. For the first time in a long while, Thanos felt... uncertain.
A figure appeared before him, stepping from the shadows of this pocket dimension—Peter-Knull. But there was no hostility in his presence, no threat. Instead, Peter-Knull was calm, his movements unhurried, his expression one of quiet understanding. He wasn't here as an adversary. He was something else, perhaps even a guide.
"You're here to prove yourself," Peter-Knull said, his voice steady, echoing in the vastness. His eyes met Thanos' with an intensity that forced the Mad Titan to pause. "But not to me. This is a challenge that goes beyond power. Beyond domination. Beyond anything you've faced."
Thanos' brow furrowed. "I am balance incarnate," he growled. "I've achieved what others dare not. I've brought balance through my actions—through sacrifice."
Peter-Knull didn't flinch at his words. Instead, he gestured toward the horizon, where the landscape continued to shift in impossible ways, as if it were adapting to Thanos' very presence. "You claim balance," Peter-Knull continued, "but do you truly understand it? Or are you merely justifying your fear, your insecurities... your need for control?"
Thanos' eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, Peter-Knull raised a hand, his voice taking on a deeper resonance. "I know that responsibility," he said, his tone soft yet unyielding. "One I did not take on lightly. I know the fear, the doubt... the insecurities that follow. I've been there—more times than you can imagine."
Peter-Knull gestured toward a gate that had appeared in the distance, a surreal structure that seemed to shimmer with the essence of the void itself. Strange symbols adorned it, glowing faintly in the dim light. It was as if the gate had always been there, waiting for Thanos to see it.
"As much as you try to hide it, Thanos," Peter-Knull continued, "I can sense the lingering doubt in you. Your path is far more complex than you've led yourself to believe."
Thanos' gaze shifted to the gate, drawn to it despite himself. As he approached, he reached out, his fingers brushing against the surface. Though the language inscribed upon the door was foreign, something deep within him recognized it. The message was clear.
Master thyself. Change your fate. Master thy destiny, thy molds with thy own hands.
The words resonated within him, echoing through his very soul.
For a moment, Thanos hesitated. The world around him shifted again, reacting to his doubt. The landscape twisted, becoming more chaotic, more uncertain. Peter-Knull stood beside him, silent now, watching as Thanos confronted the realization that had been creeping upon him since his arrival.
"You seek balance," Peter-Knull finally said, breaking the silence, "but you've been using force. You've dominated, destroyed, and justified it all in the name of balance. But are you truly at peace with yourself? Or are you merely seeking validation for your actions?"
Thanos clenched his fists, his mind racing. He had always believed that his actions were necessary, that the death and destruction he wrought were part of some greater cosmic balance. But here, in this place, surrounded by an overwhelming sense of harmony, he couldn't help but question everything.
"Do you believe that killing half the universe brought balance?" Peter-Knull's voice was gentle but piercing. "Or did it merely bring order to the chaos within yourself?"
Thanos felt the weight of those words settle in his chest. His actions had always been justified in his mind, but now, confronted with the truth of this realm, he realized that perhaps he had been driven by something else, by fear, by doubt, by the desire to be seen as more than the mad Titan.
Peter-Knull stepped forward, placing a hand on the gateway. "This stone—this place—it knows you, Thanos. It knows what you're hiding from, what you're running from. You are the only one who can open that door. But to do so, you must confront the truth within yourself."
The gateway shimmered, the symbols pulsing with a strange energy. Thanos stared at it, his heart pounding. He had faced gods, titans, and forces beyond comprehension, but this... this was different. This was a challenge of the soul.
He reached out again, his fingers brushing against the symbols. A part of him recoiled, but another part, deeper, more primal, urged him forward.
As Thanos touched the gateway, the world around him shifted once more. The environment twisted and adapted, reflecting his own memories, his fears, his regrets. The vastness of the realm seemed to fold in on itself, becoming more personal, more intimate.
Peter-Knull stood beside him, a silent guide. This wasn't about power. This wasn't about domination. This was about understanding, about mastering oneself.
"You've always sought to control the chaos," Peter-Knull said softly, "but to master it, you must first master yourself."
The gate opened slowly, revealing a path that led deeper into the realm. Thanos took a deep breath and stepped forward, knowing that whatever lay ahead would test him in ways he had never been tested before.
As Thanos and the Black Order were pulled deeper into the stone's realm, the environment began to shift, molding itself to reflect Thanos' innermost thoughts and memories. It was a landscape filled with surreal visions, echoes of the past manifesting all around them. Though the Black Order could observe, they found themselves distanced, watching from the periphery as this trial focused solely on their master.
The first challenge arrived swiftly.
The scene before Thanos morphed into something familiar, yet haunting. He saw himself, kneeling, desperate, before Mistress Death. His past self's voice trembled with longing as he spoke, his devotion painfully evident in every word.
"All of this..." Thanos in the vision gestured grandly, as though presenting the universe itself as a gift. "The lives I've taken, the destruction I've caused... I've done it all for you. Do you not see? My love is unmatched, Mistress. I could wipe out entire star systems for you, and it still wouldn't be enough to express what I feel. Please... love me in return."
But Death, as she always had, remained silent. Cold. Unmoved. Her skeletal visage showed no emotion, no trace of acknowledgment for all that he had sacrificed. She turned her head away, leaving Thanos in a pit of despair, reaching out in vain.
Peter-Knull's presence manifested quietly beside him. He did not interrupt the vision but allowed Thanos to watch it unfold in agonizing detail.
When the vision finally faded, Peter-Knull spoke, his voice calm, almost tender in its understanding. "You sought love from someone who could never return it, Thanos. But love, true love, cannot be taken by force or obsession."
Thanos' hands clenched into fists as he stared at the ground. "I gave her everything... and she gave me nothing."
Peter-Knull nodded. "Because love that is not returned is not love, it's obsession. Destruction and power will never fill that void."
Thanos grimaced, but deep down, he knew the truth in those words. His obsession with Death had been just that, an obsession, not love.
…
The next memory struck Thanos even harder. He saw himself as a child on Titan, sitting alone, isolated from the other children. His mother appeared in the distance, her face twisted in terror, holding a blade.
"You..." she muttered, her voice quivering. "You're a monster. I should've ended you when you were born..."
The young Thanos took a step back, fear gripping him as he tried to understand why his mother—his creator—hated him so much. Her eyes were wild, filled with revulsion as she raised the blade, ready to strike.
"Mother, please... I don't..." Young Thanos choked on his words, his small hands trembling as he reached out to her.
The vision blurred, and Thanos stood frozen in place, feeling the same confusion, pain, and fear he had felt so long ago. His own mother—who should have loved him—had seen him as nothing but an abomination.
Peter-Knull's voice broke the silence. "Monsters are not born, Thanos. They are created by fear and rejection. You allowed yourself to be shaped by the perceptions of others... by those who never understood what you were meant to be."
Thanos turned to Peter-Knull, his voice low but laced with bitterness. "She was my mother... if she couldn't see anything but a monster, then maybe that's what I was meant to be."
Peter-Knull's gaze softened. "No, Thanos. You weren't born to be a monster. You were made to believe it by the fear of others. But fear can be overcome."
The weight of those words pressed on Thanos. He had spent so long embracing the label of 'monster,' believing it gave him strength. But Peter-Knull saw past the layers of hate and fear that had been built around him.
…
The final memory unfolded—perhaps the most painful of all. Thanos found himself reliving the moment of his greatest "victory," standing in the aftermath of his massacre. The Infinity Gauntlet glowed on his hand as half the universe vanished into dust.
"I am balance incarnate," he had said back then, his voice devoid of emotion, speaking to the stars. "I have brought peace. I have done what none other could. This is the price of harmony..."
But as the scene played out in front of him again, something was different. Thanos no longer saw the triumph he had once felt. Instead, he saw the emptiness, the hollow satisfaction that came with that moment. He had convinced himself he was doing it for balance, for the universe—but the truth, now clear, was that it had been about his own need to prove his worth, to validate his existence through ultimate power.
Peter-Knull remained silent for a moment longer, allowing the realization to sink in before speaking.
"You convinced yourself that you understood balance, Thanos. But true balance isn't something you impose on others. It's something you must find within."
Thanos' expression hardened. "I saved the universe by restoring balance. That's what mattered."
Peter-Knull met his gaze, unwavering. "Did it, though? Or was it about proving to yourself that you were worthy of power? Of validation?"
The silence that followed was deafening. Thanos had never allowed himself to question his motives before. But here, in the cold, raw truth of the stone's realm, he could no longer deny it.
…
The chaotic memories faded into the distance, and a serene landscape emerged around them. Light and dark coexisted in perfect harmony, and the air felt... peaceful. Balanced.
Peter-Knull stood beside Thanos, his expression calm, but his words carried the weight of a deeper understanding.
"True balance isn't about control, Thanos. It's not about forcing others to submit to your will or bending the universe to fit your view of harmony. It's about mastering yourself—your own demons, your insecurities, your fears."
Thanos clenched his fists, his pride wrestling with the truth that was unfolding before him.
"I did what I had to," Thanos said, though his voice lacked the conviction it once held. "The universe needed me to restore balance. To do what no one else had the strength to do."
Peter-Knull's gaze softened as he spoke again, his tone almost compassionate. "You sought balance, but it wasn't the universe you were trying to save, was it? You were trying to save yourself. From your own doubts, your own fear that you would never be enough."
Thanos said nothing. For the first time in his life, he didn't have an answer. The weight of Peter-Knull's words settled into him, and he realized that all his conquests, all his victories, had been little more than attempts to prove his worth to himself.
Thanos' fists clenched, his muscles tensing, but for the first time in his long, violent life, he found himself without a retort. There was no argument to be made. There was no righteous defense of his actions. The truth was laid bare before him.
His victories, his conquest of the universe, the wiping out of half of all existence—it wasn't balance. It wasn't justice. It was a cry for validation, a quest to prove that his suffering, his pain, had purpose. That he had meaning.
Peter-Knull let the silence hang between them, allowing Thanos to come to terms with this revelation. And then, with a calmness that seemed to resonate with the very air around them, he spoke again.
"The stone knows you, Thanos," Peter-Knull said, gesturing around them to the surreal landscape that had formed from Thanos' own mind. "It's forced you to confront your past, your obsessions, your fears. But now, it's time to confront the most difficult truth of all: the present."
The world around Thanos shifted once again, no longer showing his past, but instead reflecting his current self. He saw his towering figure—still adorned in his battle armor, still holding himself like a warlord—but there was something different about this image. The weight of his journey was etched across his face, the burdens of his choices reflected in his eyes. He looked not like the Titan who had conquered worlds, but a man who had lost his way in the endless quest for meaning.
"Do you still believe in your quest for balance through death?" Peter-Knull's voice pierced the stillness. "Or do you understand now that true balance begins within? Not through domination, but through understanding."
Thanos' gaze remained fixed on the reflection of himself, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind. His belief in his mission had always been absolute. But now, standing here in the presence of someone who understood the void, the nothingness, the chaos that he had sought to control, Thanos began to feel the stirrings of doubt. Not the kind of doubt that weakens a man, but the kind that forces him to truly question the foundation upon which he has built his life.
"I am the only one strong enough to make the hard choices," Thanos muttered, more to himself than to Peter-Knull. "I am... I was the universe's last hope for survival."
Peter-Knull stepped forward, his expression one of both compassion and firm resolve. "Thanos, the power of the stone—and the power I wield—is tied to a higher understanding. One that even the Living Tribunal, even the cosmic gods themselves, cannot fully grasp. This power, Thanos, transcends the multiverse."
Thanos' eyes flickered with confusion and frustration. "What power? What are you talking about?"
"Hope, Thanos." Peter-Knull's voice softened, yet his words struck like a hammer. "Hope when all else is lost. When the world turns against you, and the darkness closes in, it's not death or domination that brings balance. It's hope. Hope for something better. Hope for change."
Thanos' brow furrowed. "Hope is for the weak."
Peter-Knull shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "No, Thanos. Hope is the strength that allows beings to guide others—to protect, not destroy. To find a balance between justice and mercy, not vengeance and domination. It is the core of this process. Of your reckoning."
Thanos' fists tightened, his pride resisting the idea, but deep down, he knew there was truth in Peter-Knull's words. The power he had sought through death and destruction had never brought him peace. Only more war. Only more chaos.
Peter-Knull gestured to the serene landscape around them, the balance of light and dark, the perfect harmony of chaos and order. "This... balance, Thanos, is not something that can be imposed. It is something you must create within yourself. Only when you master thyself, can you truly understand balance."
Thanos turned toward Peter-Knull, his gaze hardening. "And what about you? Have you mastered yourself, symbiote?"
Peter-Knull's expression darkened slightly, but there was no anger in his voice—only honesty. "No. Not fully. I'm still learning, still struggling with my nature as a being of the void. I've watched countless friends perish, over and over, in the universes I've traveled. I've seen worlds burn and collapse into nothingness. I've failed more times than you can imagine."
Peter-Knull's gaze met Thanos'. "But I've also come to understand something deeper: hope. Hope is what has allowed me to move forward, to keep trying, to protect the ones I care for. The question I asked myself is the same one I ask you now, Thanos."
Thanos turned back toward the serene landscape, his eyes narrowing as he pondered the question hanging in the air.
Peter-Knull's voice was soft, but it resonated deeply. "What will you do with your life? How will you be remembered by those who come after?"
The silence stretched between them. Thanos felt the weight of his own past pressing down on him, the choices he had made, the lives he had taken. And for the first time, he allowed himself to confront the truth. The universe did not need him to impose balance through death. It needed him to find balance within himself.
"I operated on what I knew then," Thanos whispered, more to himself than to Peter-Knull. "But now... I know differently."
Peter-Knull nodded, his voice a gentle encouragement. "Excusing your actions is not part of this process, Thanos. Only accepting them, and learning to live with them. The key to breaking free from the chains that have weighed you down your whole life rests in your hands."
A long silence passed as Thanos wrestled with the implications of Peter-Knull's words. Finally, he looked up toward the sky, where light and dark merged in harmony, where balance truly existed.
Thanos spoke quietly, but with newfound clarity. "Perhaps it's time I learned how to live."
…
After what felt like an eternity in the surreal, shifting dimension within the stone, Thanos and his Black Order found themselves back in reality. The transition was abrupt—one moment they had been standing within that impossible realm, confronting the deepest parts of their souls, and the next, they were in the same place where they had first touched the stone.
But everything was different.
In the real world, only a fraction of a second had passed. Barely more than the blink of an eye. Yet, in that time, Thanos had lived through days, perhaps even weeks, of personal reckoning. The weight of it settled heavily on his broad shoulders, though his expression remained stoic.
Thanos held the black and red stone in his palm now, but it no longer felt foreign to him. No longer did it seem like an object to be wielded or conquered. It pulsed gently, almost as if it were alive, a living extension of himself. It was no mere Infinity Stone, no tool of cosmic power. It was something far more profound, reflection of his own inner journey, of hope, of balance.
He turned the stone in his hand, its smooth surface gleaming faintly with those pulsating red veins of energy. There was a subtle warmth to it now, a connection that went beyond mere physicality. Thanos knew that he hadn't conquered the stone; rather, it had guided him toward something deeper, an understanding of himself and the universe that transcended even the power he had once sought through destruction.
The Black Order stood beside him, each of them quiet, their expressions marked by the trials they had faced within the stone's dimension. They, too, had experienced their own reckonings, had been forced to confront their fears, their doubts, their desires. Even Corvus Glaive, the ever-loyal and calculating servant of death, stood with a rare look of contemplation, his mind visibly rattled by whatever he had seen.
Proxima Midnight, ever the warrior, appeared more guarded, but beneath that stoic exterior, there was a flicker of something that hadn't been there before—perhaps vulnerability, or a deeper understanding of her place within the Black Order, her purpose, her own identity beyond the battlefields and the service of Thanos.
Ebony Maw, always the cold, calculating strategist, seemed distant, his thoughts consumed by the layers of knowledge he had uncovered within himself. Even Black Dwarf, the brutish powerhouse, had a solemnity to him that spoke of an experience beyond his understanding of strength.
All of them had been changed by their experience, but none more so than Thanos himself.
Thanos tightened his grip around the stone. For the first time in a very long time, he felt a sense of... hope. Not in the sense of naivety or weakness, but a powerful, resolute hope—one that carried with it the weight of responsibility. A responsibility to himself, and to the universe, to seek a true balance not through control or domination, but through the understanding and mastery of one's own fate.
Peter-Knull's words echoed in his mind, a reminder of the path forward: Master thyself. Mold thy destiny with thy own hands.
Thanos exhaled softly, turning his gaze toward his Black Order. They were all watching him, waiting for direction, for clarity after the disorienting trial they had endured. Thanos, the Mad Titan, who had once sought balance through death and destruction, now saw things through a different lens. It wasn't enough to simply conquer. True power lay in a certain responsibility—the responsibility to guide, to protect, to offer hope where once there had been only fear and chaos.
He looked down at the stone once more, and in that moment, he understood something far deeper than he ever had before. Hope was a power unlike anything he had ever known. It was the strength that allowed beings to rise above their nature, to change, to evolve. Not even the Living Tribunal or the One Above All had truly mastered this force—because they did not understand its true nature.
The stone glowed faintly in his hand, its energy now resonating with Thanos' own. It was no longer a weapon to be wielded, but a guide, a companion on his path forward.
He looked at his Black Order, their eyes reflecting their own internal struggles and growth. They had each been changed, just as he had. They, too, had found something within themselves that could never be taken away.
With a deep breath, Thanos spoke, his voice calm but filled with a quiet authority. "We have returned. But none of us are the same."
The Black Order said nothing, but their silence was filled with acknowledgment. They knew it too. The stone had shown them their vulnerabilities, but it had also offered them a way forward.
Thanos glanced at the stone once more, feeling its power intertwined with his own. It wasn't just a stone anymore, it was a symbol, a testament to what he had learned.
Peter-Knull had been right. The path to true balance lay not in domination, but in self-mastery, in wielding hope when all else seemed lost. And Thanos, the once Mad Titan, now understood that this was his true calling: to guide others toward that same understanding. To be a protector of balance, not through fear, but through hope.
With newfound clarity, he lifted his gaze to the horizon, a quiet determination settling within him.
"Master thyself, and change thy fate."
The Black Order watched, unsure of what would come next, but certain of one thing: they had all been irrevocably changed by their journey into the heart of the stone's trial. The future, once dominated by death and destruction, now seemed to hold the faintest glimmer of something new.
Hope.
…
Peter-Knull stood with a serene presence among Logan, Jean, Rachel Summers, and the others gathered around. Racheal Summers was helping her daughter Echo-Claw with her kindergarten homework, while Flora-Claw, her sister, was studying beside her. Sonic-Shade, the son of Toon-Shade and Dazzler, was being entertained by his parents, his bright colors and playful energy a contrast to the more serious discussion at hand.
Logan crossed his arms, clearly trying to wrap his mind around the concept Peter-Knull had just explained. Thor and Tony Stark stood nearby, their expressions equally perplexed. Hawkeye leaned against the wall, his usual quip at the ready, while Captain America, ever the leader, tried to piece everything together with his strategic mind.
"So... you're saying," Logan began, "you've got access to some sort of balanced existence? A place that exists outside what we even define as the multiverse?"
Peter-Knull nodded. "That's right. It exists beyond the reach of the Living Tribunal, the One Above All, and even the One Below All. It's outside the boundaries of anything you know."
Thor, who had been silent, stepped forward, gripping Mjolnir tightly in his hand. "And this realm... it operates on rules that differ from the ones governing our multiverse?"
"Exactly," Peter-Knull replied, his voice calm yet carrying the weight of his words. "The laws that govern your reality, the flow of time, space, and power, do not hold sway there."
Hawkeye furrowed his brow. "And this place... it knows whoever steps into it on some deep, personal level? It changes people, like it did to Thanos?"
Peter-Knull met his gaze. "It knows your essence, your past, your present, and the path you're meant to walk. For Thanos, it was a reckoning, a realization that all his life's conquests were driven by fear and insecurity. He came out of it changed because he faced the truth of himself."
Racheal, gently rocking her daughter, glanced up. "And it was enough to change Thanos's entire worldview?"
Peter-Knull nodded. "Yes. What he found there wasn't just power, but the hope to master himself, to wield responsibility rather than domination. That's a force even beings like the Living Tribunal cannot comprehend."
Captain America's face tightened with thought. "And your... symbiotic universe? That operates within this realm?"
Peter-Knull smiled faintly. "Yes. My symbiotic universe exists neither here in your multiverse nor entirely in that realm. It's between both, a sanctuary. That's part of why the Living Tribunal hasn't found it and why he never noticed its existence until I revealed myself. It exists outside his domain."
She-Hulk, who had been leaning against the wall, pushed herself up, her eyes narrowing slightly. "So that's why it's so secure... that's why it's hidden from everything else."
"Precisely," Peter-Knull confirmed. "It's why those who seek refuge in my symbiotic afterlife are beyond the reach of cosmic forces or entities. There, they are safe."
Thor, his face conflicted, shook his head slowly. "You are unlike anything I have encountered, Peter-Knull. A being of the void, yet you seek to protect, not destroy."
Peter-Knull turned his calm gaze toward Thor. "I chose this path not because I had to, but because I wanted to. I know what it feels like to watch entire universes fall, to feel powerless as friends and loved ones perish over and over again. And yet, despite everything... I found hope. And that hope is what drives me."
As Logan, Jean, and the rest tried to fully comprehend what Peter-Knull had shared, there was a deep silence in the room. The weight of his words was heavy, but it was the truth, something that resonated beyond even their understanding of reality.
Peter-Knull glanced down at his hand, where a small, pulsing light of symbiotic energy flickered between his fingers. "It's about more than just power. It's about what you choose to do with it. And my symbiotic afterlife? It's there to protect those who would otherwise be lost when the multiverse inevitably ends."
Logan shook his head, letting out a long breath. "You may not want the title of God, but you certainly fit the category. "Something far beyond," Thor added, still looking at Peter-Knull with a newfound respect. "You are balance itself, aren't you?"
Peter-Knull simply smiled. "Perhaps. Or maybe I'm just a man trying to do what's right."