Boom!
A sharp crack split the sky above Manhattan as a metal boot came crashing down on the head of a Chitauri soldier, crushing its cybernetic skull with terrifying force. The impact radiated through the exoskeleton of the worm-like mothership beneath, causing its hull to shudder and creak like a dying beast.
Bella stood on the back of the mothership, poised like a goddess of war descending upon her prey. With one stomp, she had collapsed a portion of its armored shell.
The shockwave blasted away dozens of nearby Chitauri who were attempting to surround her, their shrill metallic screeches vanishing as they tumbled into the sky. The entire mothership groaned beneath her weight.
10,000 tons of reinforced alien alloy couldn't withstand the force.
The structure began to rupture from within, metal tearing apart with a screeching roar. The core exploded in a burst of alien energy as the wreckage spiraled toward Manhattan.
Boom!
The mothership crashed into the city with an earthquake-like tremor, shaking buildings and throwing dust into the air for miles.
Since her third kill, Bella had discovered the most efficient way to eliminate the motherships. Now, after felling the final one, she gently descended from the sky, landing gracefully atop a decorative metallic dome of a high-rise that had somehow survived the devastation.
She turned toward the sky. The portal was still open, its swirling energy revealing the vastness of the universe beyond.
Through that cosmic eye, Bella spotted something massive on the other side—a double-winged carrier-class battleship, grotesque in its enormity. Its armor shimmered with alien light, its hull spiked like a floating fortress. The very sight of it made the sun seem dim by comparison.
And behind that battleship… a gray-white planet, lifeless and broken. A world of ash and silence.
Bella narrowed her eyes, thoughtful.
"So... they're changing tactics. Looks like they're hesitating now that I've taken out so many of their ships. They won't risk venturing through anymore."
Her voice was quiet but clear, carried on the wind.
"But what if I go to them? I can survive in space for a time. If I pass through that portal… I might be able to wipe out their leadership. Maybe the entire species."
It was tempting. The thought of ending the Chitauri threat once and for all, cutting it off at the source, almost made her act on impulse.
But reality set in.
"What if the portal closes while I'm out there?" she muttered.
Without it, she'd be stranded in deep space. She didn't know the exact location of that planet, and even if she did, Heimdall wouldn't be able to see her through the Bifrost.
Bella didn't need food or water. Her enhanced body could survive for weeks without sustenance. But eventually, even she would exhaust her energy.
She'd die alone. In the void.
Bella sighed. She wasn't afraid of death, but she wasn't a fool either. Every decision she made was precise, strategic.
Just like when she'd faced down the meteorite. Everyone thought she'd acted recklessly, but she had calculated everything. Even collapsing from magical exhaustion was part of a safe threshold.
She never risked what she couldn't afford to lose.
So she stayed.
And then, as though in response to her decision, something happened.
The portal began to pulse.
Bella's eyes locked onto the source.
The Chitauri mothership on the other side was charging its primary weapon.
Twin cannons mounted on the wings of the warship glowed with lethal energy, converging a beam at the center between them. A condensed sphere of destruction began to form.
Her instincts screamed.
If that energy sphere reached critical mass and was fired through the portal… New York would be obliterated.
Worse—the Earth itself might not survive.
Bella's lips curled into a cold smile. "You really want to die that badly?"
Her eyes glinted gold. Her Black Sword of Promised Victory rose high above her head.
And the world—watching through drones, satellites, and news broadcasts—saw her motion.
There was a collective pause. Confusion first. Then awe.
What was she doing?
Boom!
A cyclone of golden magic erupted around her, rippling outward like the spiral arms of a galaxy. The surge was so intense, the fabric of space around her began to distort, and even the air itself crackled with divine pressure.
New York trembled.
Buildings shivered in response to the pressure. On the ground, people stumbled, feeling the weight of something ancient, something immense.
The runes on her sword shimmered with blazing gold, threads of holy light spiraling upward and combining with a base of blackened divine steel. The contrast of gold and shadow was breathtaking—destruction and divinity fused together.
Debris floated up from the ground—glass, bricks, metal, even shattered concrete. Everything rose around her like a sacred offering to a higher power.
She stood like a goddess summoned from legend.
Hair billowing. Eyes glowing. Lips firm. Heart unshaken.
The sun itself seemed dim next to the brilliance of her magic.
A soldier watching from the base of a building dropped his rifle and whispered, "She's... closing the portal. Isn't she? With her own strength."
A woman nearby covered her mouth in shock. "She's going to save the whole world. Alone."
The crowd, the people on the streets, the police, the firefighters, the soldiers—they all watched in silence, mesmerized.
They didn't know the stakes.
They didn't know that a single delay could mean global extinction.
All they saw was a vision of heroism unlike anything in human history.
And they wept.
In newsrooms, broadcasters forgot to speak. Cameras zoomed in on her face. Analysts called it "the single most awe-inspiring visual humanity has ever captured."
Children raised their arms in imitation.
Teenagers clutched their chests and screamed in joy.
All across the globe, hearts pounded.
On the top floor of a nearby tower, a TV monitor showed her profile as she raised the sword higher. She looked like a cathedral's stained-glass warrior come to life.
"A divine king," one old reporter whispered.
---
Back in the war room at the White House, high-ranking officials stood from their chairs.
Some smiled in relief.
Others clenched their jaws in fear.
"We can't stop her now," one muttered.
"She's beyond us."
---
Meanwhile, as the sword continued to gather light, Bella closed her eyes.
From across Manhattan, the magic responded.
Golden particles floated up from every direction.
From the Hudson River, from the shattered parks and flowerbeds, from trees, from the hearts of people who believed in her—even those evacuating but watching her through phones and TVs—
Magic gathered.
A flood of it.
A golden ocean.
Manhattan shimmered as if touched by gods. Light curved through the air in ripples, dancing across windows, soaking buildings in radiance.
The city that had burned for hours—was now bathed in grace.
In that moment, no one could think of her as anything but a divine protector.
Bella, the woman who stood between Earth and extinction, had become more than human.
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