"Supervisor… I—I'm really nervous," whispered a trembling female D-class personnel, gripping her oboe tightly. Her face was pale as she looked at James pleadingly. "Can I go to the restroom, just for a moment?"
James didn't need to speak.
A member of the Mobile Task Force beside him silently raised his weapon and aimed it at her head.
She immediately went silent.
Suddenly, a sharp voice echoed from the command center:
"The Stag has entered the containment zone. Bombardment squad is in position. Ritual teams are ready!"
A hush fell over the mountain.
Even in the Marvel world, watching from afar, the silence was suffocating.
In the Stark Industries Building, Tony Stark wiped cold sweat from his forehead, only to realize his entire back was drenched. He turned to Colonel Rhodes and asked, more out of anxiety than curiosity, "Do you think this will work?"
Colonel Rhodes frowned. "It's not just an anomaly this time. It's a god. A true supreme entity... I think it's going to be extremely difficult."
Time ticked by slowly, every second like an eternity.
The rumble of movement and strange sounds in the mountains crept closer, growing louder.
Then it happened.
From within the dense mist surrounding the mountain came a long, sorrowful cry.
Then—
Everything fell silent.
The fog parted unnaturally, like a curtain being drawn by invisible hands.
A stench swept through the air.
"Ammonia," James muttered. Before he could finish, the earth shook violently as a deep, unnatural buzzing roared from the mountain.
"It's starting!" barked the command center's captain.
And in that moment…
The Stag appeared.
Out of the white mist stepped the god.
The creature had the body of a deer, its fur pine green and cream with unnatural, symmetrical patterns. It had a long, elegant neck, and from its forehead rose antlers that seemed sculpted from black marble with white veins, pulsing with blue light.
Above its head, nine rings of metal and crystal floated, spinning and weaving into a sacred symbol that burned into the minds of all who saw it.
Everyone froze.
The stag opened its mouth, and an unearthly hum washed across the world like a wave of thunder.
For a heartbeat, time stopped.
Then—
The Marvel world exploded with fear.
"Oh my god! It's real! That's the supreme god!"
"Even through the screen, its eyes made my soul tremble!"
Inside S.H.I.E.L.D., agents stood stiffly, faces pale.
Even Nick Fury, ever composed, dropped his coffee. It shattered, unnoticed.
This was his first direct encounter with a true god.
Elsewhere, in Kamar-Taj, the Ancient One locked eyes with the divine creature. A chill ran through her bones. Her usually sharp mind fell silent.
"Danger... unmeasurable danger."
Unlike beings such as the Crimson King or the Cosmic Starfish, the Stag didn't drive you mad.
It didn't bring disease or destruction.
It simply existed—and that was enough to paralyze even the most powerful sorcerers.
In the Observer Dimension, the Watcher Uatu watched in awe.
"This… This is truly divine," he whispered. "Even the laws of the universe bend around Him…"
Then the Stag moved.
BOOM.
With each step, the earth quaked.
Every soul trembled.
"Ten seconds left!" shouted James, his voice snapping his team from paralysis.
"Get ready!"
"Five… Four…"
Some began to cry. Others froze in terror.
"Start the ritual!" ordered the command center.
And then, in a flurry of movement and desperation—
The great containment ritual began!
Six groups arranged themselves in a perfect circle around the Stag.
Each group performed a different, bizarre act:
One wore masks of emotion—joy, sadness, anger, fear, stupidity—and began an absurd dance. (Program 410-Cassini)
Another exchanged toys and threw grains while chanting nonsense. (Program 430-Epimetheus)
A third drank olive oil, tied their feet with wool, and hit rocks with hammers. (Program 440-Cassir)
One group lifted a naked man into the circle, expressionless.
The last set an H-class subject on fire, screaming into the mist.
The whole event resembled a mad carnival.
But the Stag didn't stop.
It kept walking.
Back at S.H.I.E.L.D., Natasha Romanoff pointed at a monitor. "That group hasn't started!"
She was right.
The 120-degree team—the one with the timpani player—was frozen.
The performer had collapsed, foaming at the mouth.
Sanity shattered.
The final part of the ritual had failed.
In horror, James looked to the ground. One piece was missing. And now...
The god was truly angry.
He opened His mouth again—
BOOOOOOOM.
A sound like the world's largest bell rang out, shaking the Earth and stirring the mist into a storm.
Everyone turned to look at James, the lone figure left standing.
His team watched him with wide eyes, rain running down their faces. All hope rested on him.
James stepped forward.
He picked up the timpani sticks. His soaked clothing clung to him like armor. His eyes locked with the Stag.
Then—
"Begin Program 420-Perinaldo!" he declared.
BOOM! He struck the timpani.
The sound tore through the mist.
Everyone felt it in their bones.
The final ritual had begun.
In the 120-degree circle, the six remaining players began to play Erlst's CPB2—a 39-minute movement of chaotic, unfamiliar music.
The melody was strange, disjointed, like madness made sound.
But somehow…
The Stag stopped.
It listened.
And it calmed.
Even the Ancient One, Nick Fury, and Uatu could feel the divine wrath fading.
For now, the ritual worked.
The music echoed across the Marvel world.
In homes, in S.H.I.E.L.D., in Stark Tower—no one dared to breathe.
Each beat of the drum by James felt like a heartbeat for the world.
Then—
Disaster struck again.
One of the players made a mistake.
A simple missed trill.
But it was enough.
The number of "spectators" the Stag saw suddenly jumped to 1,000.
And they weren't human.
Inhuman, invisible presences stared into the ritual.
The next error raised the count to 100,000.
The air turned thick with ammonia.
A lead hexagram began to smoke.
The Marvel world collectively held its breath.
The team realized—
The gods were watching.
And they were no longer pleased.
This time, there would be no second chance.
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