Thanos didn't turn around. His voice remained calm but carried an unmistakable weight as he asked, "How much longer?"
At that moment, he had set aside every shred of emotion, every trace of affection. What remained in his heart was pure ambition—a single, relentless drive for the Infinity Stones and dominion over the universe.
He could feel it—the life in this universe had already reached a tipping point. If unchecked, reproduction would soon outpace resources, and a catastrophe on a cosmic scale would erupt.
And lurking in the shadows, as if waiting for the perfect moment, were the Celestials—silent predators poised to harvest the universe once life reached its apex.
Only by seizing control of the universe quickly, and arranging the growth of life in an orderly manner, could this endless cycle continue.
Gamora, oblivious to the depth of Thanos's worries, shook her head. "I don't know either," she admitted softly.
Thanos shook his head slightly, a gesture almost imperceptible, yet heavy with authority. "I'll give you another year. If you still fail, Nebula will take over your mission."
Gamora's green face flickered with unease. For a moment, she looked as if she might protest—but she said nothing. She simply nodded and turned toward the spaceship, boarding silently.
Thanos didn't glance back until the ship had vanished from view. As he watched it disappear into the vast darkness, a thoughtful shadow crossed his face.
Today's conversation had confirmed something—Gamora's mind was not entirely aligned with his. But did she intend betrayal? He wasn't certain.
And yet, among all the Infinity Stones, the Soul Stone remained the most elusive. Without Gamora, would he even have a chance to find it? That was why he tolerated her. For now.
But patience had its limits. A year, he decided. If she failed, then her race had no reason to exist.
One year later.
After four relentless years of conquest by the Black Order, Thanos had claimed roughly one percent of the galaxy.
It may sound small, but the Milky Way was not a flat disc—it was an irregular, three-dimensional maze of stars and dust. One percent of it stretched across some ten thousand light-years, containing around 1.7 billion stars and nearly ten million planets capable of supporting life.
Many of these worlds were still barren. The rapid expansion of planetary crusts had left numerous stars devoid of habitable planets. Thanos intended to terraform the suitable ones once he had complete control, shaping them to fit his vision of life.
By now, the Black Order had discovered the planet Blue Star, but, remembering Thanos's instructions, they had ignored it. If he had been willing to grant autonomy to the indigenous populations, the galaxy might have been united long ago. His deliberate pace ensured absolute control over every corner of it.
Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the Milky Way, on an unremarkable dark-gray planet, the dwarves stirred in alarm. Their large heads and small, compact bodies made their stubble-covered faces seem even more determined.
A dwarf king, clad in shining metal armor and gripping a massive warhammer, addressed the assembly gravely. "Gentlemen, Thanos's forces will arrive in six months. Decide—will you submit or will you fight?"
They had known of Odin's war with Thanos four years prior. Yet, dissatisfied with Odin's rule, like many races they had chosen not to intervene. Odin's swift defeat had left them stunned, unsure of what to do next.
They had learned of Thanos's absolute control: a centralized system that dictated not just obedience but even reproduction. Those who defied his rules faced fines, punishments, even death.
The dwarves could not—would not—accept such tyranny.
"No. We cannot accept their terms!"
"Even if it costs us our lives, we will never accept a humiliating treaty that surrenders our sovereignty!" one dwarf bellowed, his voice echoing through the hall.
"Exactly! Not even Odin dared treat us like this. How could Thanos dare?" another shouted, pounding his fist against the table.
"I heard he hasn't been seen since the battle four years ago… we don't even know if he was seriously hurt," a third dwarf muttered, worry flickering in his eyes.
"He must be injured. Now's our chance to strike!"
The room erupted in heated cries, but before the fury could boil over, the Dwarf King slammed his hands down, silencing everyone.
"Quiet! Enough!" His voice carried the weight of authority even over the most stubborn. Slowly, the angry murmurs died down.
He looked over his people, his gaze firm. "Gentlemen, consider this: Laufey and Hela serve Thanos now. By their natures, if he were truly vulnerable, they would have ended him long ago."
He let the words sink in. "And even if Thanos is injured, we are powerless against him should he send either of them our way."
The dwarves' anger cooled, replaced by uneasy awareness. Their king was the strongest among them, yes—the level of a Celestial Father—but he alone could not hope to face Laufey or Hela, let alone Thanos.
Yet dwarves, bred on freedom and stubbornness, were not so easily cowed. Shouts rang out again, defiant and raw.
"Even if I die on the battlefield, I will never bow to them!"
"There are dwarves who die standing, not those born kneeling!"
"It is our duty to protect our homeland!"
"Fight to the last man! Dwarves are never slaves!"
The room throbbed with energy, the king's eyes narrowing in thought. A plan to fight to the death formed in his mind—but before he could speak, the sky shattered with a bolt of lightning.
A deafening roar tore through the air, and every dwarf froze as a powerful aura washed over them.
"What… what is that?" someone whispered, wide-eyed.
"Could it be… Thanos?"
"Prepare for battle! We will never be slaves!" war cries erupted as warhammers were raised, ready to strike.
But the Dwarf King's instincts pricked. Something was off. He slammed his hand down, silencing the room once more.
"This isn't Thanos," he said sharply.
The dwarves exchanged uneasy glances. Indeed, Thanos wouldn't arrive without a fleet; a mere space portal wasn't enough.
The figure finally descended before them, arms spread wide, a broad grin lighting up his face.
"Itri, my dear friend!"
The name sparked recognition. Itri, tall for a dwarf at 1.8 meters, had a head so large it looked almost comically out of proportion to his tiny frame, earning him the affectionate nickname "Big Head Son."
At once, his frown melted into a smile. He rushed forward, throwing his arms around the newcomer.
"My dear Thor! It's so good to see you alive!"
The visitor returned the embrace with warmth and ease—it was none other than Thor, prince of Asgard, standing before them, alive and whole.
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