The space being that hung in space above them defied every scale of reference that sentient minds were equipped to process. Where once had stood a humanoid figure barely two meters tall, now loomed a consciousness vast enough to eclipse solar systems—a living planet whose every thought could reshape the fundamental forces of reality itself.
This was the Ultimate Gravattack, merged with Ego's Celestial genetics to achieve something beyond even Ben's original expectations. The human-sized form he'd used against previous enemies had been merely an avatar, much like Ego's ability to project a more manageable appearance while his true essence remained planetary in scope.
But this was Ben Parker's actual form when unrestrained by tactical necessity or concern for collateral damage.
Thanos stared upward at the impossible sight, and felt something he hadn't experienced in millennia—complete and absolute despair.
"How am I supposed to fight that?" he whispered through Gamora's lips, his voice carrying the hollow tone of someone whose entire worldview had just collapsed. "This is beyond cheating—this is space impossibility made manifest!"
During their last encounter on Xandar, Ben had used the Power Stone to hurl a moon at his opponents. Now, Ben had simply become the moon, along with the gravitational forces, spatial manipulation abilities, and reality-warping potential that such scale provided.
Even Infinity Stones could destroy ordinary planets through concentrated application of force, but that destruction relied on the target's inability to defend itself or redirect incoming energies. Living planets like Ego commanded every atom within their mass, wielding power that approached localized reality manipulation within their sphere of influence.
Within certain parameters and limitations, Ben's current form functioned as a low-grade Reality Stone made flesh—or rather, made space matter arranged according to conscious will.
The Mad Titan felt exhaustion seep into his borrowed bones. Against such overwhelming power, resistance wasn't futile—it was meaningless. The gap between their capabilities had become so vast that the concept of "battle" no longer applied.
"I surrender," Thanos said simply, raising Gamora's hands in a gesture of absolute defeat. "Tired of struggling against the impossible. Just... end this."
Under his weary gaze, the planetary consciousness began condensing its essence, matter and energy flowing inward with gravitational precision until Ben's familiar form materialized—a two-meter-tall crab-like being whose casual stance somehow carried more menace than his space appearance had.
The transition from planetary to humanoid scale would have been jarring for any observer, but Thanos had witnessed too many impossible things to register surprise.
"I assumed you were occupied elsewhere," Thanos observed with the detached calm of someone who'd already accepted defeat. "I didn't expect you to arrive so quickly."
"You misunderstand the situation," Ben replied while extending one clawed hand toward the Soul Stone. "I've been nearby this entire time."
The artifact detached from Thanos's grasp without resistance, floating into Ben's possession as if eager to join its siblings. The Reality Stone would require more delicate extraction from Gamora's cellular structure, but that could wait until proper mystical tools were available.
Ben's claim about proximity wasn't deception. When Eunice. had begun tracking Thanos across star systems, Ben had specifically warned her against engaging such a dangerous opponent alone. While she'd appeared to confront the Mad Titan independently, the three of them had actually coordinated their approach before making contact.
Now Eunice. descended from her elevated position with fluid grace, her expression carrying satisfaction at a plan executed flawlessly.
Nebula's ship materialized from stealth mode as she brought her vessel in for landing, specialized restraint equipment already prepared for their high-value prisoner. The cybernetic woman emerged with determined strides, her mechanical components gleaming in the alien starlight.
"This time, you won't escape, Father," Nebula declared as she secured quantum-locked shackles around Thanos's wrists and torso. The devices hummed with barely contained energy, their design specifically calibrated to contain beings of space-level power.
Her voice carried complex emotions—anger, disappointment, but also something that might have been grief for the relationship they'd never truly shared.
Thanos offered no resistance as the restraints locked into place, but Ben took additional precautions anyway. Drawing upon the Space Stone's authority, he shaped translucent barriers around their prisoner—a crystalline cube that existed partially outside normal space-time, making escape impossible even through reality manipulation.
"Even if you use the Reality Stone now," Ben explained while admiring his handiwork, "you cannot break free from a cage that exists in folded space. The energy simply has nowhere to go."
Gamora's eyes fluttered open as consciousness gradually returned, confusion replacing the vacant expression that had characterized her possession. She looked around at the barren landscape, the floating prison containing her father's stolen form, and the assembled Plumbers with growing bewilderment.
"I remember being in the void," she said slowly, her voice carrying the uncertainty of someone whose recent memories felt disconnected from reality. "How did I...?"
"Thanos was controlling your body," Nebula explained with gentle firmness. "You're being contained temporarily to prevent him from attempting possession again."
Though the Soul Stone's removal had returned Thanos's consciousness to its space prison, fragments of his spiritual essence remained embedded in Gamora's damaged soul. The risk of renewed influence couldn't be dismissed until those contaminations were properly cleansed.
Gamora's shoulders sagged as the full implications sank in. "Keep me imprisoned forever," she whispered with hollow resignation. "Let me die in confinement. It's what I deserve for being weak enough to let him use me."
"That won't be necessary," Ben assured her with surprising warmth. "I'll find a more permanent solution for Thanos soon enough."
The Mad Titan's apparent immortality made him a persistent threat regardless of how many times he was defeated. Even when reduced to spiritual essence, he found ways to influence events and corrupt others to his cause. But the universe contained places and beings capable of containing even space-level threats—it was simply a matter of finding the right combination of circumstances.
"The Null Void remains an option," Ben mused aloud, "though we'll need safeguards to prevent another escape. Perhaps something more... creative."
"This means all six Stones are finally gathered," Eunice. observed with barely contained excitement, her gaze fixed on Gamora's imprisoned form. "Once we extract the Aether particles, the transformation of Primus can begin immediately. By then, genetic samples from every intelligent species in the universe will be under our protection."
The prospect of completing their space ark project filled her with anticipation. No matter what catastrophes might befall the universe in ages to come, the accumulated knowledge and biological diversity of countless civilizations would survive to seed new worlds and new chances for life to flourish.
"Let's extract the Aether particles first," Ben decided while activating his Omnitrix with deliberate precision. "Gamora has suffered enough."
The device's familiar glow intensified as he selected a transformation rarely seen by outside observers. Pink energy erupted around his form, with brilliant white radiance at its core, as flesh and costume dissolved into pure luminous essence.
Ascendant
"Fascinating," Eunice. breathed, studying the transformation with scientific appreciation. "This is the source of Mana, isn't it? The Anodite species—beings of pure mana who exist as living magic."
She'd read extensive files about Ben's various alien forms, but witnessing an Anodite transformation remained a novel experience. The mystical talismans distributed throughout the Plumber organization allowed agents to channel fragments of this power, but seeing its source in person revealed the true scope of what they were working with.
The exponential growth in Ben's personal power reserves came from exactly this kind of energy sharing—each charm user strengthened their own mana through life experience and training, with a portion of that enhanced energy flowing back to Genesis dimension like tributaries feeding a space river.
"Anodite?" Gamora asked weakly, her scientific curiosity temporarily overriding her despair. "What exactly is that?"
"Think of it as a form of magical energy given sentient form," Ben explained while extending his transformed hand toward her chest. "For our current purposes, that's sufficient understanding."
The Reality Stone's extraction would require finesse rather than force—magical energy operating on principles that complemented rather than opposed the Infinity Stone's reality-altering nature.
Mana and Aether particles made contact, creating a resonance field that caused Gamora's body to levitate as consciousness fled once again. The space artifact responded to Ben's mystical call, awakening from its integration with human cellular structure as crimson energy reached unprecedented peak output.
Nebula watched with growing alarm as torrents of liquid darkness began pouring from Gamora's eyes, nose, and mouth—Aether particles manifesting as something resembling blood as they separated from their unwilling host.
"Don't worry," Ben assured her without breaking concentration. "This will be over soon."
The process required delicate balance—Gamora's cooperation (even if unconscious) and Thanos's inability to interfere. With both conditions met, the Reality Stone's extraction proceeded smoothly despite the dramatic visual effects.
Within minutes, every trace of Aether particles had been drawn from Gamora's system, the crimson streams flowing through space like space rivers before converging into a single mass before Ben's transformed hands. The liquid artifact writhed with barely contained power, its formless nature making it appear almost alive.
Ben snapped his fingers with deliberate authority, his will imposing structure on chaos. The flowing ether solidified instantly, transforming from liquid nightmare into a crystalline gem that settled into his palm with the weight of compressed universes.
The Reality Stone—genuine, complete, and finally under Plumber control.
Sakaar Orbital Platform - Plumber Headquarters
The sleek Valkyrie transport broke through dimensional barriers with practiced precision, its hull gleaming silver against the space void as it approached the massive space station that served as the Plumbers' primary base of operations. The facility hung in Sakaar's orbital space like a technological constellation, its modular sections connected by energy bridges that pulsed with the rhythm of contained power.
"Brunnhilde, you're back earlier than expected," Caiera's voice crackled through the communications array, carrying notes of both welcome and curiosity.
Inside the transport's passenger compartment, Valkyrie cast a contemptuous glance at the huddled figures behind her—warriors who'd once stood among Asgard's finest, now reduced to refugees seeking shelter wherever it might be found.
"It's just a pickup duty," she replied with characteristic bluntness, her tone suggesting the mission had been easier than anticipated. "How difficult could that possibly be?"
The individuals she'd rescued—Thor, Steve Rogers, Peter Parker, Wanda Maximoff, and the others—shifted uncomfortably at being described so dismissively. But none more so than Thor himself, whose face burned with shame that no amount of divine heritage could erase.
Not long ago, their desperate distress signal had reached Plumber headquarters after Hela's devastating victory. Most of the organization's forces had been deployed to support Beta Ray Bill's defense of Nidavellir, leaving only skeleton crews to maintain the orbital facility's essential functions.
Originally, Caiera had planned to personally lead the rescue mission, but Brunnhilde had volunteered for the assignment with surprising enthusiasm. Ben had initially hesitated to assign her anything related to Asgardian affairs, concerned that old grudges might compromise her judgment or emotional stability.
But Brunnhilde had evolved far beyond her past traumas. The Plumbers had given her new purpose, new family, and new reasons to hope for the future. What had happened in Asgard millennia ago belonged to a different person—someone who no longer existed except as memory.
The past, once acknowledged and released, held no power over the present.
Still, Thor found himself drowning in guilt every time he looked at the woman who'd saved them. He'd met Brunnhilde briefly during Loki's coronation ceremony, but hadn't understood the history between her and Hela at the time. Now that he knew the full scope of what Asgard had cost her—her sisters, her purpose, her very identity—he felt the crushing weight of inherited responsibility.
Throughout their journey to safety, Thor had kept his head down and his mouth shut. He was no longer the arrogant prince who'd demanded others clean up his mistakes. He understood now that he had no right to ask for anything from someone Asgard had so profoundly wronged.
Even revenge should be earned through his own actions, not requested as charity.
"I need to apply for transport to Nidavellir," Thor said quietly as they disembarked, his voice carrying the hesitant tone of someone unaccustomed to making requests.
"There is no Nidavellir anymore," Brunnhilde replied without looking at him, her attention focused on post-flight equipment checks.
"What?" Thor's head snapped up, confusion replacing shame as he struggled to process her words. "I know it exists—it's where the dwarves maintain their forges. I need them to craft a new hammer, otherwise I can't—"
"I said there is no Nidavellir anymore," Brunnhilde repeated with emphasis, finally turning to face him directly. Her expression carried the patient exasperation of someone explaining obvious facts to a particularly slow child.
"Do you think I don't know where the dwarven realm is located?"
Her tone carried years of accumulated frustration with Thor's tendency to assume others lacked basic knowledge. "Nidavellir was invaded by Dark Elf forces. The Plumbers rescued the surviving dwarves, but the stellar forges have been destroyed. The planet is effectively dead."
Thor's face went ashen as the implications crashed through his consciousness like physical blows. "It's over then... Without a proper weapon, how can I possibly stand against Hela and Malekith..."
"You want a hammer?" Brunnhilde's voice dripped with sarcasm as she gestured toward the station's maintenance bays. "I suggest checking the repair shops. I just learned that another of Odin's children has become dependent on tools like a space toddler."
She shook her head with theatrical disappointment, mimicking Thor's earlier whining tone. "I can't function without my hammer! It's like watching a baby cry for its security blanket."
The comparison stung worse than any physical blow, but Thor forced himself to accept it. She wasn't wrong—he had become pathetically dependent on external validation of his worth.
The other team members gathered around him with encouraging words and supportive gestures, trying to bolster his spirits despite their own exhaustion and injuries.
"Don't lose hope," Steve offered with characteristic optimism. "There's always another way forward."
"Steve's right," Peter added with his trademark enthusiasm. "Whether it's Hela or that Malekith guy, Ben can handle them both without breaking a sweat!"
Only Loki remained at the group's periphery, watching the proceedings with a barely perceptible smile playing across his features. His eyes held an anticipation that seemed oddly out of place given their recent defeat and narrow escape from certain death.
"So the Plumbers did send reinforcements to Nidavellir," he mused quietly, his voice carrying notes of calculation that didn't quite match his usual emotional patterns. "Psyphon must have failed in his mission... but that's actually advantageous. Even if they destroyed the stellar forges, they wouldn't have obtained the true artifacts. Instead, they would have..."
His gaze drifted toward the space station's central hub with poorly concealed hunger. "This is Plumber headquarters. The Aether particles are most likely here somewhere."
The comment was spoken so softly that only the most observant listener might have caught it, but the intensity behind his words suggested obsession rather than casual interest.
Because the figure wearing Loki's face wasn't Loki at all.
Malekith the Accursed, God of Curses and King of the Dark Elves, had claimed another victim for his web of deception.
His magical abilities rivaled or exceeded even Loki's considerable talents—millennia of studying curse magic and reality manipulation had given him skills that few beings in the universe could match. The infiltration technique he'd employed was so sophisticated that it fooled even enhanced senses and mystical perception.
The deception had begun back in Vanaheim, where he'd given the real Loki a seemingly straightforward mission—conquer the peaceful realm as part of the larger Dark Elf offensive. But that assignment had been merely a distraction, a way to remove the silver-tongued god from places where his presence might complicate more delicate operations.
Malekith's true objective had been gaining access to Plumber headquarters and the space artifacts likely stored within. While he couldn't be certain that the Aether particles were present, Odin's historical pattern of distributing powerful artifacts to allies made it a reasonable possibility.
Even if the Reality Stone wasn't here, other Infinity Stones might be within reach—a prize that justified considerable risk and effort.
The impersonation had required careful planning and flawless execution. When Thor's distress signal reached the Dark Elf fleet, Malekith had seen opportunity disguised as crisis. By "rescuing" the Asgardian refugees himself while wearing Loki's appearance, he'd gained credibility and access that no amount of magical infiltration could have provided.
The performance had been nearly perfect. Only Brunnhilde had expressed any suspicion, questioning why "Loki" had been out of communication for so long and why he'd appeared in Asgard instead of completing his mission in Vanaheim.
Malekith had smoothly explained that his infiltration work required absolute secrecy, and that he possessed vital intelligence that could only be shared with Ben Parker personally. Since Loki's personality included occasional theatrical dramatics, his slightly overwrought delivery had seemed perfectly in character.
Now he found himself inside the enemy's primary stronghold, surrounded by their most sensitive intelligence and most powerful weapons, with no one suspecting his true identity.
The group disembarked and made their way to the station's medical facilities, where their injuries could be properly treated and their exhaustion addressed through advanced Plumber healing technology. The fake Loki followed along with appropriate concern for his "teammates," all while cataloging security measures and noting potential weaknesses in the facility's defenses.
Soon, they were called to an emergency briefing in the command center—a circular chamber whose walls displayed real-time tactical information from across the Nine Realms and beyond.
Caiera presided over the meeting with military precision, her silver skin reflecting the holographic displays as she outlined the current strategic situation. Brunnhilde and the disguised Malekith sat at her right hand as senior agents, while the Thunderbolts team members arranged themselves around the conference table.
Thor's expression remained heavy with unspoken thoughts, his internal struggles visible to anyone who cared to look.
"Where is the King?" Malekith asked, injecting just the right note of respectful curiosity into his inquiry.
"Ben hasn't returned from his mission yet," Caiera replied without concern. "I'll be conducting this tactical briefing in his absence. You can share any critical intelligence you've gathered through normal channels."
Malekith nodded but offered no immediate revelations, preferring to gather more information before revealing any of his manufactured "discoveries."
Caiera's gaze lingered on him for a moment—perhaps detecting some subtle inconsistency in his behavior—before continuing with her presentation.
"Current intelligence confirms that Muspelheim, Alfheim, and the light realms have fallen completely under Dark Elf control," she reported with grim efficiency. "Nidavellir has been devastated, Vanaheim remains under active assault, and Asgard has been conquered by Hela following her seizure of your transport vessel."
Her holographic displays shifted to show tactical maps of the remaining battlefields, red zones indicating enemy-controlled territory spreading like infection across the space map.
"Hela's current objective appears to be Helheim and Niflheim—the underworld realms where she can reclaim her full necromantic powers. Among the Nine Realms, only Midgard remains uncontested by hostile forces."
"Vanaheim as well..." Thor shot to his feet with sudden urgency, his fists clenching as responsibility warred with helplessness. "We have to reinforce them immediately, otherwise—"
"Wait, Thor!" Malekith interrupted while grabbing the prince's arm, his mind racing through the implications. If Thor actually went to Vanaheim, he would encounter the real Loki and expose the deception immediately.
"The most critical threat isn't Vanaheim," he said urgently, his voice carrying manufactured authority. "It's Helheim and Niflheim. Once Hela reclaims her connection to those death realms, she'll command unlimited undead armies. At that point, she could slaughter entire populations across the Nine Realms without effective opposition!"
The strategic assessment was actually accurate—Hela's necromantic powers did draw strength from her connection to death-realms—but Malekith's motivations had nothing to do with protecting lives. He simply needed to redirect Thor's attention away from locations where his impersonation might be discovered.
"We have to prioritize threats based on their potential for space-scale devastation," he continued with growing confidence. "Vanaheim can wait—the entire universe cannot."
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