The void was silent, save for the low, constant thrum of Sanctuary II's engines.
Thanos sat upon his throne of dark metal and jagged edges, the massive chamber around him lit only by the cold blue glow of holographic star maps and the faint purple radiance emanating from the Infinity Gauntlet on his left hand.
The glove fit him like destiny—crafted eons ago for a being of his stature, its surface scarred from the raw power it had already channeled.
Two gems burned brightly in their sockets: the violet Power Stone, taken from the ruins of Xandar after he had reduced the Nova Corps to ash and the planet's core to molten slag; and the orange Soul Stone, claimed on the desolate cliff of Vormir after he had watched the life fade from Gamora's eyes, her body tumbling into the abyss as the price demanded by the ancient guardian.
He flexed the fingers of his left hand. The stones responded instantly, a surge of energy coursing through his veins like liquid fire. Two down. Four to go. But the universe was not cooperating as smoothly as he had anticipated.
The Space Stone had eluded him. The Tesseract, last known to be aboard the Asgardian refugee vessel, had vanished years earlier—stolen in the chaos of Asgard's fall, according to the broken words Thor had gasped before Thanos had left him for dead on the wreckage of the Statesman.
The Mind Stone, once housed in Loki's scepter, had disappeared, its trail cold, its location masked by forces Thanos could not yet comprehend.
The Reality Stone, entrusted to the Collector on Knowhere, had likewise been taken long ago, the eccentric being found unconscious amid his shattered displays.
Three stones on Earth. Three signatures of infinite power, clustered in one place, pulsing like beacons in the dark. He had felt them the moment he entered this system—three distinct resonances, alive, bound to living hosts rather than inert artifacts. Intriguing. Dangerous.
Thanos rose from his throne, the Gauntlet humming softly. "Enough waiting," he murmured to the empty chamber. "I will do it myself."
He strode to the command deck, where Ebony Maw and the remnants of the Black Order awaited in tense silence. Cull Obsidian's massive form shifted uneasily; Proxima Midnight gripped her spear tighter.
They had failed him once already on Earth—attacked by forces they could not name, powers that defied explanation. Maw had spoken of "women who wielded reality itself," of time folding upon them, of minds enslaved in an instant. Thanos had listened, then dismissed them. Excuses were beneath him.
"Prepare the tractor beam," he commanded. "Target the structure known as the Sanctum Sanctorum. The Time Stone is there. Bring me to it."
The ship responded instantly. Sanctuary II, a leviathan of black and gold, angled toward the blue-green marble below. Earth filled the viewport—beautiful, fragile, teeming with life that would soon be culled for balance.
Thanos felt no hatred for it, only necessity.
The tractor beam lanced out—a column of violet-white energy that pierced the atmosphere like a spear of light. It locked onto the the Sanctum Sanctorum, and began to pull.
The building groaned as it was lifted from its foundation, bricks and mortar trembling in the grip of impossible force. Windows shattered. Dust billowed. Below, the streets of New York erupted in panic—screams, car horns, people fleeing as the ancient structure rose into the sky.
Thanos stepped onto the teleportation platform. In a flash of purple light, he materialized on the street outside the hovering Sanctum, boots crunching on broken glass. The Black Order followed, fanning out behind him.
The first defenders came quickly.
Wong emerged from the shattered doors, golden mandalas spinning at his fingertips. He hurled a barrage of eldritch bolts—crimson whips of energy meant to bind and burn.
Thanos raised his left hand. The Soul Stone flared orange. Wong's eyes widened as an invisible force seized his mind. His body went rigid, then slack. He dropped to his knees, unconscious, breath steady but eyes vacant. Instant sleep. No blood. No waste.
Two more sorcerers—acolytes of the Ancient One's order—rushed forward, shields of light forming around them. Thanos clenched his fist. The Power Stone ignited violet. A single pulse of raw energy erupted from the Gauntlet, vaporizing their shields and reducing their bodies to ash in an instant. The wind carried the remnants away like gray snow.
He ascended the floating steps, cloak billowing, the Gauntlet glowing brighter with each stride.
Inside the Sanctum, Doctor Stephen Strange waited in the central chamber. The Eye of Agamotto hung open around his neck, the green Time Stone gleaming within its housing.
Cloak of Levitation fluttered at his shoulders like a living thing. He had seen this moment in fourteen million futures. Most ended in dust. A few... offered a chance.
"You should not have come here," Strange said, voice steady despite the tremor in his hands.
Thanos regarded him calmly. "And yet I am here. The Time Stone. Hand it over, and I will spare this world another hour of suffering."
Strange raised his hands. Crimson bands of energy lashed out—Cyctonic rings meant to bind the Titan. Thanos did not flinch. The Soul Stone pulsed again. Strange's spell faltered mid-air. His eyes glazed over, body locking in place. He fought it—willpower honed by years of mystic discipline—but the Stone was absolute. Obedience was not a choice.
"Give me the Time Stone," Thanos intoned.
Strange's fingers moved against his will. The Eye of Agamotto opened fully. He removed it from around his neck and extended it toward the Titan, palm trembling.
Thanos took it. With a casual squeeze of his left hand, the ornate housing crumpled like foil. The green Time Stone floated free, hovering for a moment before slotting into the empty socket on the Gauntlet. Green light joined purple and orange. Three stones now burned on his fist.
Strange collapsed to his knees as the Soul Stone's grip released, gasping, defeated.
Thanos looked down at him. "You saw this coming. And still you resisted. Admirable. Futile."
He turned away, stepping back toward the shattered entrance. The Sanctum hovered precariously, held only by the tractor beam. Below, the city burned with fear.
Thanos raised his left hand, the three stones casting an eerie, multicolored glow across his purple skin.
"Three down," he said, voice low and resolute, "three to go."
He clenched his fist.
"After all... I'll do it myself."