"Wanda." His voice was very low.
Wanda did not turn around. "Hmm?"
"Are we really going to just stay put as Mavuika said?"
Wanda was silent for a moment. She could feel that those Chitauri warriors were spreading further away; not just Manhattan, the entire New York was falling.
If no one stopped them, they would spread to the entire East Coast.
Wanda turned to look at him. There was no fear or hesitation in Pietro's eyes, only a kind of determination she had seen many times before.
It was a determination to protect something, a determination that reminded her of when they were children in Sokovia, supporting each other on the streets.
Wanda took a deep breath and exhaled. Dark red Chaos Magic surged from her body, wrapping her in its light.
"No, we are going out to help!"
Pietro smiled. "Just as I thought."
She leaped out the window, the dark red light supporting her as she flew toward the battlefield.
Pietro followed close behind, his silver-white lightning carving a rapid trajectory on the ground as he sprinted toward the most densely packed area of the Chitauri army.
Wanda landed in the center of Times Square, and the dark red Chaos Magic spread outward like tentacles, wrapping around a low-flying Chitauri glider.
She clenched her hands tightly, and the Chaos Magic crushed and deformed the glider and the warrior on it, scattering fragments of metal and flesh.
More Chitauri warriors swarmed toward her. Wanda raised her hand, and a wave of dark red energy shot from her palm, shattering the three gliders charging head-on.
Her movements were far more fluid than they had been at the HYDRA Base. The methods the Ancient One had taught her meant her power was no longer a violent outburst, but precise control.
Pietro wove through the Chitauri army; his speed was so fast that even their bio-mechanical sensors couldn't capture him, appearing in a different position every second.
He punched through the engine of one glider, kicked a Chitauri warrior away, and then smashed another with a punch.
He was like a bolt of silver-white lightning, plowing gaps into the grayish-white torrent.
On the ground, Natasha saw the two figures moving rapidly between the air and the ground, and the corners of her mouth curled up slightly.
"Are those the two kids?"
Clint Barton, beside her, shot an arrow through the throat of a Chitauri warrior.
"Looks like it. They can certainly fight."
Fury saw it too. He stood behind an overturned police car, watching Wanda and Pietro weaving through the battlefield, the light in his single eye complex.
He didn't say anything, just spoke into his communicator: "Confirm two friendly units. Do not hit them."
A confirmation reply came back.
On the New York battlefield, more and more forces were converging.
Tony was firing at full power in the air, Hulk was sweeping everything on the ground, Steve was commanding the evacuation while fighting, Natasha and Clint Barton were weaving through the streets hunting, Wanda and Pietro were tearing gaps in the Chitauri army's formation, and S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents were stabilizing the defensive line under Fury's command.
But the Chitauri army continued to pour out of the wormhole endlessly. They were like a tide; every time they were repelled, they would return, and every time they were destroyed, more would fill the void.
Tony hovered in mid-air, looking at the still-open wormhole, his brow furrowed beneath his faceplate.
He knew that if that wormhole wasn't closed, this battle would never end.
"Jarvis, is there still no way to close it?"
"Sir, the energy source of the wormhole is the Space Stone. Conventional means cannot interfere with it."
Tony was silent for a second. He looked up at the sky, the sky already stained red by the flames of war.
There, beyond his line of sight, in the darkness of deep space, perhaps a pair of purple eyes was watching all of this.
...
In distant Asgard, the situation was not much different from New York.
Black transport ships fell from the rifts. They didn't fly in, but rather seemed to be thrown, trailing long purple exhaust plumes as they tore through Asgard's golden sky.
One, two, ten, dozens—they were like a flock of giant black birds, obscuring the spires of the Golden Palace and the light of the Bifrost Bridge.
The transport ships' hatches opened before they even landed, and countless black figures poured out, cascading down like a tide—those were the Outriders.
Thanos's most terrifying infantry, created through bio-mechanical genetic engineering, possessed no fear, no pain, only the desire to kill.
Their bodies were covered in black carapaces, their limbs were as sharp as blades, their mouths were filled with jagged fangs, and they emitted low, Beast-like roars.
When the Outriders landed, it was like a black rainstorm; they slammed into the fields of Asgard, onto the golden avenues, and onto the edge of the Bifrost Bridge.
The ground shattered under their impact, with dust and rubble flying into the air.
Then, they began to run.
Thousands of Outriders surged toward the Golden Palace like a black tide. They were extremely fast, running on all fours like cheetahs, like a wolf pack, like a black tsunami.
Just then, the gates of the Golden Palace opened.
Hela walked out.
She wore her black and green battle armor, her long jet-black hair fluttering in the wind, her deep green eyes looking calmly at the black tide surging toward her.
She held no weapon; she was her own weapon.
Behind her, the Valkyrie Legion had formed ranks. They rode white Pegasus, held spears, wore silver armor, and had stern expressions.
They were Asgard's most elite warriors; every Valkyrie had achieved great military feats on the battlefields of the Nine Realms.
On the other side of Hela, the Undead Legion rose from the ground.
Those long-dead Asgardian warriors opened their eyes again under the will of the Goddess of Death.
Their bodies were still clad in tattered armor, some still bearing the fatal wounds left from their lives, but their eyes were clear. Their souls had been recalled from the underworld by Hela to fight for Asgard once more.
Beside Hela stood a giant black wolf, Fenris, the oldest and most ferocious Beast of Asgard.
Its size was like a small hill, its fur like black iron, its fangs like short swords, and its eyes were deep yellow, like two Burning ambers. It was currently staring at the surging Outriders, a low, rolling thunder-like roar emitting from its throat.
Hela watched that black tide, the corners of her mouth curling slightly.
She raised her hand.
Black and green Death Energy surged from her palm, condensing in the air into hundreds of black swords, their tips pointing toward the black torrent surging toward them.
"Kill."
The black swords shot out.
Hundreds of black swords poured down like a rainstorm, precisely piercing the Outriders charging at the very front.
Their bodies were pierced through, black blood gushing out and leaving shocking traces on the golden avenue.
But more Outriders kept charging, stepping over their companions' corpses without any hesitation.
The Valkyrie Legion charged forward.
Countless Pegasus soared into the air, swooping down from above, their spears piercing the skulls and breastplates of the Outriders.