The sky above Mortis erupted with power.
Thunder cracked and rolled across impossible distances. Lightning arced between churning storm clouds, each bolt bright enough to sear afterimages into the eyes of those watching below. The air itself trembled with each collision, shock waves rippling outward in concentric rings.
This wasn't a simple battle of strength. This was eternal—cosmic forces made manifest, clashing in a display that made the very foundations of Mortis shudder.
The Son, avatar born from the universe's dark foundation, faced Asgard's Prince in a duel that defied mortal comprehension.
Thor Odinson and the ancient being circled each other in the roiling sky, surrounded by black clouds and crackling energy. Thor spun Mjolnir with practiced ease, the hammer trailing lightning like a comet's tail. He hurled it forward with the force of a thunderbolt, the weapon tearing through the air toward his opponent.
The Son transformed mid-flight, his body rippling and expanding into a monstrous bat-creature wreathed in Dark Side energy. Red eyes blazed as he met Thor's attack head-on.
The collision sent shock waves cascading across Mortis.
In the ever-shifting chaos of combat, the Son suddenly compressed his bat-form and absorbed Thor's full-strength strike. The impact should have shattered bone and pulverized flesh, but the avatar stabilized through sheer force of will and Dark Side power.
Thor didn't hesitate. He called Mjolnir back to his hand and adjusted his trajectory, lightning exploding around him in brilliant arcs. He shot forward like a missile, leaving thunder in his wake. Mjolnir connected with the Son's transformed body again, and the creature shrieked—a sound that was part rage, part pain.
The Son shifted back to humanoid form, blood trickling from his mouth. But the fury in his eyes burned hotter than before.
Despite his injuries, the Son glared at Thor and thrust his hand forward. The Force surged outward in a visible wave, slamming into the Asgardian prince and sending him tumbling backward through the air. Thor recovered quickly, spinning his hammer to arrest his momentum, hovering as lightning danced across his armor.
The Son transformed into his bat-form once more.
They paused for a heartbeat, facing each other across the storm-torn sky. Then both launched forward simultaneously, trailing energy and lightning. Each collision sent out thunderous shock waves that dispersed the clouds and lit up Mortis like a strobe. The battle had become a spectacle—a unique display of cosmic power that seemed to shake the very foundations of this mystical realm.
The Son pressed his assault with savage intensity, summoning the Dark Side to counter Thor's furious lightning. His claws crackled with red electricity, the air around him bending to his will. He twisted past an incoming strike from Mjolnir and latched onto Thor's shoulders, his grip crushing. The Asgardian prince grunted in pain as Dark Side energy flooded into him, seeking to corrupt and destroy from within.
But Thor wasn't defenseless. His eyes blazed with electric blue light, and he laughed—a booming sound that carried across the battlefield despite the chaos. He wrenched backward, raising Mjolnir high, and brought it crashing into the Son with every ounce of his divine strength.
The impact resonated like a gong struck by a titan's hammer.
The Son was torn free and sent hurtling toward the ground like a falling star. He crashed into Mortis with bone-shattering force, carving a crater into the ancient soil.
Thor stretched his hand toward the void, and Mjolnir returned to his grasp seconds later, eager as a loyal hound. He descended swiftly, landing near where the Son lay in a twisted heap. The avatar was already regenerating, his broken form shifting back to humanoid shape amidst swirling shadows.
"You're throwing a tantrum like a child," Thor observed, his tone almost conversational.
The Son climbed to his feet, electricity crackling across his body. His eyes burned with rage. "You invaded my domain and disrupted my plans—"
"Family disputes are nothing special," Thor interrupted with a slight shrug. He thought of Loki, of their endless cycle of conflict and reconciliation. "All of us have quarreled—with siblings, with parents. It's hardly unique to you."
The Son fell silent for a moment, studying this thunder god who claimed to be from Asgard. "How do you even know of our existence? We've hidden ourselves from the galaxy for thousands of years."
"My father is Odin, King of Asgard," Thor declared, pride evident in his voice. "He possesses knowledge spanning millennia—knowledge of beings and realms that predate recorded history. That includes knowledge of you and your family."
Had the Son not been consumed by rage at this interruption, he might have been impressed. Instead, his face twisted with bitterness. "If you hadn't interfered, I would have succeeded."
"Then prove it," Thor challenged, leveling Mjolnir at him. "If you're so certain of your righteousness, demonstrate it in honest combat."
The Son roared and launched himself forward.
The battle resumed with even greater ferocity. The two gods—for that's what they were, regardless of realm—blurred through the sky in a deadly dance. Every impact was accompanied by thunder that rolled across Mortis like drums of war. The watching crowd could only stare in awe and horror at this display of raw power.
The spectacle was magnificent and terrible in equal measure.
But not everyone was watching.
"Ahsoka."
Spider-Man's voice was soft, barely audible over the distant thunder. He cradled her cold body in his arms, grief etched into every line of his posture beneath the mask. His eyes—though hidden—were filled with sorrow and disbelief.
Beside him, Anakin Skywalker knelt in silence. Both stared down at her pale face, at the dark veins standing out against her skin like cracks in porcelain. Her body was weak, lifeless.
She—the vibrant, outspoken, selfless Ahsoka—was gone.
Anakin's fists clenched until his knuckles went white. His entire body trembled.
"No. Impossible," he whispered, voice cracking. "No. Please." Tears welled in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. He reached out with shaking hands and grasped her cold fingers. The chill that met his touch was like ice against his heart.
"Please, please," he murmured desperately, "don't let this be real."
He sensed someone approaching from behind. When he turned, he saw the Father—withdrawn now from the fierce battle between the Son and Thor—standing quietly nearby.
Behind the ancient being stood the Daughter, T'Challa, Vision, and Obi-Wan. All of them bore witness to this tragedy, the cosmic battle above seeming to pause in the weight of this moment.
"You have to save her," Anakin said, the words almost a plea.
But the Father simply let his shoulders drop. He shook his head slowly and looked away, unable to meet Anakin's desperate gaze.
"You can't just give up!" Spider-Man's voice joined Anakin's, sharp with desperation. "She can still be saved! She has to be!"
Anakin's eyes burned with desperate hope. "Is there really nothing you can do?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze never left Ahsoka's motionless form.
The Father closed his eyes, bowed his head. "This is my Son's doing. I... cannot undo it."
Anakin's heart plummeted. "Is there really nothing you can do?" he asked again, the question emerging as a broken plea.
Around them, the Avengers and Jedi looked on with mounting anxiety and helplessness in the face of the Father's silence. Ahsoka was truly gone, leaving behind only endless sorrow and the crushing weight of loss.