A massive surge of fire-aligned magic gathered like a rising storm across the assembled ranks of Kamar-Taj's magi.
Dozens of spellcasters stood in a wide circle, eyes glowing, sweat beading across their brows from the sheer force being channeled.
At their center stood the Ancient One, still amid the rising inferno.
Above them, suspended in the air like a hanging celestial body, a second sun began to take shape.
This was no ordinary star.
Deep red, molten and dense, like a meteor torn from a dying star. It pulsed with arcane heat and spiritual wrath.
It did not blaze like the sun at high noon, it glowed with the searing melancholy of a setting sun, its light a herald of impending doom.
The spell was Sunset, a rare and forbidden tier of destructive magic, It had been many centuries since it had last been invoked.
Now, as the massive silhouette of Malekith's warship breached the lake's surface and climbed into view, cloaking fields failing one by one, the Ancient One gave a quiet gesture.
The sun fell.
With a roar that split the air, the Sunset spell launched across the battlefield like a red comet.
It tore through the sky, leaving behind a streak of flaming magic that warped the clouds and cracked the air itself.
BOOM!
The crimson sun collided directly with the Dark Elves' battleship, striking it, in a blinding flash of light and sound, the spell detonated against the ship's reinforced hull, tearing through its defensive shields as if they were parchment.
A gigantic explosion erupted outward, and the entire forward side of the warship imploded, forming a vast, burning crater.
The brilliance of the magic blazed across the battlefield, red and gold light washing over everyone's faces like the final light of day.
Cracked stone, rattled trees, and forced everyone back a step, even those far from the blast.
As suddenly as it had flared… the light began to fade.
The sun died with dignity, a final burst of radiance before it collapsed into ash and silence, taking with it dozens of Dark Elves who had been caught within its glory.
"Beautiful." Soren whispered.
Though he himself had touched powers no mortal was meant to wield, this was something amazing.
The strength of one sorcerer, even the Ancient One, might not have been enough. But gathered together, the magi of Kamar-Taj had turned a quantitative miracle into a qualitative phenomenon.
Even Tony Stark, who had always kept one skeptical eyebrow raised when it came to "magic," was speechless.
His helmet lifted. His mouth hung open as he stared at the still-smoking crater blasted into the massive ship's hull.
"That... was not science." He muttered.
"And definitely beyond missile class."
The warship, once soaring toward them with might, now groaned as its momentum failed. The force of the impact had severed its main power lines and disrupted its stabilizers.
The sleek black juggernaut listed sideways in the air, then tilted, and finally crashed to the ground with a deafening impact, throwing up a storm of dust and wreckage.
Inside the wreckage, Malekith seethed.
His half-covered by his ancient armor, twisted in rage. As emergency lights flickered around him and damage reports echoed through the bridge, his fingers curled tightly on the armrest of his broken throne.
"They were prepared…"
"We lost a fifth of our forces in the blast!" A dark elf shouted from below. "The defensive shield is gone! Power systems are crippled… weapons offline!"
Malekith's eyes flared with barely restrained hatred.
And then he saw him.
Through the fractured glass, standing proudly amidst his allies, Thor.
The God of Thunder.
"You..." Malekith hissed, almost choking.
He rose to his feet.
Rage gave him clarity.
He turned to his remaining warriors, black-clad, pale-skinned, loyal to the end and snarled a command that echoed like thunder through the ruins of his ship:
"All of you—ATTACK!"
"Kill them all! Leave none of these earthbound insects breathing!"
His wrath, boundless.
The Dark Elves screamed their war cries, pouring from the downed ship like a swarm of shadows, blades in hand, ready to bring the Long Night to Earth — even if they had to bleed for it.
The true battle had begun.
Upon receiving Malekith's furious command, the surviving Dark Elves surged forward like a black tide of vengeance.
Fully armed and driven by hatred, they poured from the ruined warship, charging toward the allied camp of sorcerers, warriors, and Avengers.
Shrill battle cries echoed across the shattered landscape of Greenwich.
"ROOAAR!!"
From the center of the camp, a sudden bellow tore through the rising noise. Dr. Banner's body convulsed, muscles ripping through cloth as bones restructured in seconds.
The Hulk emerged in his full fury, larger, more brutal, and more wrathful than before.
He pounded his chest like a war drum, a living titan of rage. But even as the Dark Elves closed the distance...
Soren raised his hand.
In an instant, a pulse of pure white light exploded outward from his palm, covering the entire camp in a radiant dome. The glow did not burn, it infused every soul within with newfound power.
The boost was immediate.
The massive Hulk grew larger, his muscles swelling further as the enhancement amplified his already terrifying strength.
He snarled as a war beast unchained.
The magicians, who had only moments ago been drained by the use of the forbidden Sunset spell, felt their strength return. Fatigue evaporated. Magical circuits rekindled.
Their minds felt clearer. Their spirits surged with boldness.
Fear was replaced by the shared thrill of battle.
With renewed fervor, they charged.
Blades met blades. Spells burst in streaks of fire, ice, and lightning.
And Hulk was unstoppable, slammed through the Dark Elf ranks a green hurricane, sending bodies flying with each swing of his fists.
Soren wasn't done.
He looked skyward, then downward, sensing the magnetic threads woven beneath the battlefield. This place was perfect.
The ground beneath Greenwich was rich with metals, wires, rebar, and remnants of civilization.
The civilians had long since been evacuated. There would be no collateral damage.
"Let's end this," Soren muttered, his eyes glowing.
He focused.
The magnetic field surged around him, lifting his body into the air a sovereign of the storm.
All nearby metal began to tremble, to resonate, swords, street signs, wiring, broken scaffolds, they all rose, slowly at first, then with speed.
BOOM!
A shockwave burst outwards. The metal twisted mid-air into deadly shapes, phantom blades, jagged spears.
Under the Doctor's command, they rotated once, then a storm of vengeance.
A thousand weapons fell from the sky.
The sky turned dark with the sheer number of projectiles. What followed was a mechanical apocalypse. The front ranks of the Dark Elves were shredded, armor cracked, and bodies impaled.
Even the toughest of them couldn't withstand it. Their dark magic shields failed. Some raised weapons in defense, it was useless.
The assault was absolute.
In moments, nearly half the remaining Dark Elves were gone, wiped out by an overwhelming act of magnetokinetic warfare.
The dark battlefield fell into a temporary silence, broken only by groans and the groaning of twisted metal. Those few Dark Elves who remained standing looked around in shock at the fallen bodies of their brothers, their warriors, those who had fought alongside them for thousands of years across galaxies.
This wasn't a battle anymore.
For five thousand years, the Dark Elves had haunted the stars, but now their numbers dwindled before their very eyes.
With the battleship ruined, and their vanguard cut down, the remnants of their forces were upon the edge of extinction.
꧁𓊈𒆜༺⚜༻𒆜𓊉꧂
PhantomDream