Crack... crack...
The primal light wove densely like a net, as though it wished to shatter the supreme firmament.
"I am absolutely not your toy! Absolutely not!!"
A somber curtain, a deathly still spacetime. The unspeakable source of power saw daylight once more, dancing within the Empyrium. Thanos' roar echoed, resounding through the chaotic expanse where even vitality itself had been annihilated into blank nothingness by the violent shifts of the gods' will.
"Where is he?"
The youngest among them—and the most ill-tempered after the personification of the great universe's abstract concepts—[Oblivion] roared, glaring furiously at Selene from beneath a hazy purple cloak with those profound eyes of void.
Even as one of the Five Creator Gods and one of the Four great abstract entities, the embodiment of nonexistence, void, and the unknowable within the Marvel multiverse—capable of creating and manipulating all matter that possesses no concrete existence or cannot exist—He could neither sense that power nor determine Thanos' location when facing the force that composed God "OAA," the Marvel Reality Controller.
How had that insignificant Titan learned where God's power was kept?
He could not understand.
Not understanding was only natural.
"Perhaps our God once favored him the most," Selene said, ignoring [Oblivion]'s malice. Standing at the edge of the current universe, she gazed expectantly toward the shattered void of the cosmic graveyard abyss, freshly ravaged by infinite power.
The level of that power was exceedingly high. Even Selene, as the incarnation of [First Firmament], could not truly perceive it. Through the faint resonance of the "Limiter" law that Thanos had absorbed into his body, she could only barely glimpse it.
Hot. So hot. A heat that dominated the entire body.
She vaguely sketched out Thanos' current state in her mind—withered.
And that was indeed the truth.
Hiss—!
A dazzling golden radiance. The mutation in spacetime instantly drew the attention of the multiversal gods present. Ripples suddenly stirred within the chaos, and a strange, rippling halo quietly appeared.
It was minuscule compared to the creator gods who occupied a corner of the Empyrium, yet no abstract entity dared underestimate it.
Because its appearance had bypassed the authority of the gods. There had been no omen, no feedback in the laws. They had discovered it only through the most direct conceptual change—through "sight."
"Hahaha..."
A hoarse, suppressed low laugh.
Within the halo, a gaunt, charred figure tumbled out in a miserable heap.
Skin and bones, covered in a layer of dried grayish-purple skin. Even if only bare bone remained, the madness could still be seen upon that shriveled, cracked face. In this state, aside from the original perpetrator who had beaten him into it, no one would recognize him as Thanos.
"[Death], [First Firmament], I am absolutely not something you can summon at will and dismiss at will!"
The withered Thanos staggered, nearly collapsing. His body was shattered, black ash constantly spilling from him, spreading an eerie mist. Within his eye sockets—black sclera and crimson irises burned like unending flames of vengeance, as though they would incinerate everything before him.
As the fleshless upper and lower jaws opened and closed, the skull-like face of Thanos grinned. He raised in his hand a round stone glowing with pure golden brilliance that transcended the very concept of the natural world.
The halo was restrained inward, yet within it flowed a strange, peaceful network of light veins, forming an irregular polyhedron. Its mere existence was like a great bell, striking heavily against the most sensitive, softest, most fragile part of all existence.
Exhale...
Desire.
But clearly, this incarnation could not consume it. That radiance had surpassed the limits of Selene's understanding in this body.
[First Firmament] could not. [Eternity] could not. The Living Tribunal could not. None of the other abstract entities could.
The skeletal face was veiled by supreme power. Visible to the naked eye, the boiling Eternal cells were reorganizing. The six Infinity Stones were crushed. The gate of the Sentry's power burned. The complete Phoenix Force converged. Chaos magic was annihilated... and then all returned to one. The "Limiter" ascended, merging with that pure golden light, the heavenly court gradually filling and perfecting.
"Now, it's my turn. Weavers of fate."
In less than a billionth of a nanosecond, his massive chin with its vertical grooves reappeared, pulling into a savage arc. Holding aloft the Marvel Reality Controller, Thanos crooked a finger at the gods led by Selene and [Eternity].
"Which of you dies first?"
That was the thrill of vengeance. The will to destroy everything, to reduce all things to utter void.
Fear?
At this moment, beyond fear, Selene felt more curiosity. She had always been curious about the unknown. Of course, depending on the situation, a little fear sometimes accompanied it.
Cowardly and reckless at the same time. Perfectly normal. Judge by actions, not by thoughts. As long as it doesn't show, it doesn't count.
With a faint smile, Selene moved. With a backhand motion, she seized the source of destruction concept formed from the annihilated infinite-tier multiverse conglomerates at her side. Compressing it further, blending it again, she hurled it toward that purple face in a plain, unadorned strike.
Like the horn of rebellion, the gods followed suit.
"How dare you!"
"Blasphemous madman!"
"Summon the Tribunal, at once!"
"Gods of the present world, execute the usurper!"
Bzzzzzzzz—!
At this moment, order reversed, heaven and earth overturned.
...
Suffering tempers some and destroys others.
But this time was different.
He would destroy us all.
...
Earth, enduring the calamity of Thanos' snap.
Rustle...
"Ugh..."
Like someone abruptly awakened from a nightmare, Spider-Man Peter Parker opened his eyes. A muffled groan laced with exhaustion and deep pain escaped him. His brain felt as though it were being burned out—despairing, suffocating.
After gasping for breath and regaining his senses, the teenage hero still in his high school years found his gaze quickly dimming. Propping up his sweat-soaked, weary body, he reached out to brush aside his messy, drenched bangs.
"It was a dream... If this is divine punishment, isn't it too much? Randomly killing half the people on Earth." The boy murmured desolately. "Uncle Ben... Aunt May..."
Rising to his feet, still dazed, he staggered to the open kitchen and turned on the faucet, letting the water run over his head.
At that moment, flames suddenly erupted along the commercial street outside.
Through the window, deep crimson firelight illuminated the thick smoke hanging low above the bustling city.
A blood-red hue engulfed the streets, where panicked crowds wept and wailed. Screams, shouts, sobbing cries blended into a single piercing chaos. Spider-Man's superhuman hearing made every anguished cry reach Peter Parker's ears with unbearable clarity.
Under normal circumstances, as the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man of New York, the warmhearted little spider would never stand by idly. But now—sorry—Peter Parker had neither the mood nor the strength.
Like the half of the survivors venting in the streets after losing family and friends, he too had lost many in that instant.
After Uncle Ben's death, the only family he had left—Aunt May. His childhood friend Harry Osborn. His Midtown High best buddy, the chubby Ned. His newly blossoming girlfriend, Michelle Jones...
All gone.
Peter Parker still vividly remembered that moment—
At the time, the sound of wind through the trees, the chirping of birds, the gentle music from street performers in the park lingered in his ears as he chatted nonstop while grilling barbecue. Having been rejected in the first round by the Divine Empress Order's recruitment officer for being underage, he had gone camping in Manhattan's Central Park with Aunt May and Ned to relax.
No matter how fiercely the interstellar wars raged, no matter how many cosmic-level incidents erupted, as long as it did not reach the point of universal destruction or reboot, life on Earth went on as usual.
For most people on Earth, the arrival of the Divine Empress Order and the recruitment of chosen candidates had been like a whirlwind. Half a month later, after the initial wave of exciting news passed, it quickly faded into normalcy. Life had to go on.
They had just been talking about what Mr. Stark might be doing out in space...
Then suddenly, the street musician's music stopped.
He had been grilling and rambling with Ned, barely noticing anything except that the music had abruptly ceased.
His spider-sense flared with danger, making him instinctively look up. The distant crowd seemed thrown into chaos. Ned collapsed to the ground, terror frozen on his face, barbecue seasoning scattering everywhere. Peter watched helplessly as Ned turned to ash—nothing left.
Then Aunt May.
She called his name. He sprinted toward her, reaching out—only for her to dissipate at the very instant their fingers were about to touch.
All he caught was the cookbook she had been holding, opened and carefully marked with notes.
Panicked, he had no idea what was happening. All he could do was watch as people in the park vanished one after another.
High-ranking officials, the government system—none were spared. Social order collapsed in an instant, completely out of control. Online and in the news, rumors spread constantly: humanity extinct, divine punishment, anywhere from one-third to ninety percent of humanity murdered.
"Where is the Divine Empress? Where is God?"
No one wanted to relive that pain of loss. Peter Parker asked himself the question. After letting the icy tap water run over his head for several minutes, he finally raised it.
"I'll go to the Divine Empress Order's recruitment station in New York."
Decision made, he threw on a jacket without bothering to tidy up, pulled on a baseball cap, and stepped out of his suddenly cold and empty home.
On the streets of Queens, New York, scattered groups of people shouted—some cursing and venting, others praying. Looting was happening openly. Those with no money were boldly robbing unattended shops. Peter Parker watched it all with indifference.
No distinction between good or evil, rich or poor, race or class.
Completely random.
"Yes. Random. Calm. Fair. The rich and the poor treated alike. The masterpiece of a Titan regarded as a madman by mortals, as a toy by the gods, and as a chess piece by my 'junior.'"
"You?!"
Only then did Peter realize that at some unknown moment, a vagrant had appeared behind him. Greasy all over, black hair and black eyes, shoulder-length unkempt hair, a weathered face that embodied the marks of time.
"My spider-sense didn't react at all. Who are you?!"
"Come now, Peter. On this special timeline stirred up by my 'junior'—whether by accident or careful design—if I have appeared, then you already know who I am."
"Yes... yes."
It was a true revelation. Already aware that he had received something akin to a "heavenly gift," Peter inhaled deeply, feeling as though a dazzling golden halo shone behind the man's head.
"Let's go. Lunch is on me. Care to eat?"
The man spoke lightly, as though the tense confrontation unfolding beneath the Empyrium's curtain, the multiversal crisis of annihilation, had no bearing on him whatsoever.
"Oh... okay..."
After trying several stores, they found one that still appeared to have its family intact and remained open. They bought two standard American fast-food meals—burgers, fries, milkshakes.
Strangely, the looters roaming the streets with black-market guns seemed to completely ignore them.
The two sat down. Facing the vagrant-looking God devouring his meal with gusto, Peter Parker fidgeted uneasily.
"Sorry... I know you're, um... busy. And—and omnipotent, omniscient. And I'm just a small character. That's all. But since we're sitting here eating together, maybe you wouldn't mind telling me—was Aunt May's death entirely part of your cosmic framework? Or is it another grand design in my miserable life?"
His words came fast yet stumbling. Peter himself did not know why he seemed to understand these things.
It was as if everything existed in his mind—and yet nothing did.
"Yes and no. If I told you that, within the framework of this timeline, the one meant to vanish was you instead—"
Stuffing hot dog and burger into his mouth, the vagrant-looking man wiped his lips and asked in return,
"What would you do, Peter?"
"..."
Forcing down grief and fear, Peter lowered his head, not daring to meet His gaze.
"I'm just a small character. A selfish small character. I don't want Aunt May to die. Please don't let her die. I'm willing to—"
"You cannot change it. My ambitious 'junior' would not allow you to interrupt Her grand design. It is a contract—the covenant of omniscient and omnipotent domains between Him and me."
The man simply patted Peter's shoulder.
"Even in the darkest night, a single glimmer of light remains. Just as She discovered my one and only weakness... Have faith, my friend. Perhaps in the end, everything will return to how it was."
It sounded like a joke.
Or perhaps not.
"What?"
As Peter tried to press further—
"Oh, please..."
In the blink of an eye, the seat opposite him was empty, save for greasy burger wrappers.
Only a lingering echo remained:
"This meal was delightful, Peter. She has made Her move. I must respond. The beauty of the mundane... I do not understand your emotions. But since She has chosen a structure of direct dominion, perhaps I too should create such an omnipotent kingdom..."
As Peter struggled to process the terrifying and despairing information, suddenly—
"Ahhhhhh—!"
A scream from the next table snapped him back to reality.
He turned toward the sound.
"Oh, fuck you..."
He cursed bitterly.
Not even Aunt May's teachings could stop him from swearing.
Because the sky was falling.
—
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