"This guy… his marksmanship is ridiculous. Does he seriously have no weaknesses?"
Earth's outer orbit, on a silent space station.
Nick Fury stood rigidly, black trench coat swaying, single eye narrowed beneath the patch. His expression was carved from stone.
Talos, the Skrull leader beside him, rubbed his chin, equally grim. "Based on the footage Natasha sent back, he's a nightmare. At this point, only Captain Marvel might be able to suppress him."
He glanced at Fury, who looked even darker than usual. "Should we call for reinforcements?"
Fury stayed quiet for a long moment before answering. "I don't want to call her unless we're desperate… but Earth is under Asgard's protection, and I'm not letting a god-king like that linger here. He'd be a curse on the planet."
Talos nodded. "The God of Light's brutality is infamous across the galaxy. His arrogance makes even Thanos look reasonable."
Thanos had a warped justification for massacre—population control, cosmic balance. Gilgamesh killed on impulse. Righteous, wicked, innocent, guilty—none of it mattered. If you annoyed him, you were dead.
The only saving grace: unlike Thanos, Gilgamesh didn't wander the universe picking fights. He'd stay locked up in his palace for decades if nothing caught his interest.
While the two discussed this threat, the south courtyard of the White House shook as the battle between Gilgamesh and Thor reached its peak.
Three blazing spear blossoms spun toward Thor, swift as a cyclone. He swung his trident with frantic precision, trying to cut down the blood-red petals hunting him. But every time steel met steel, the blossoms multiplied.
The weapons collided again and again, filling the courtyard with blooming, crimson light.
Stark stared, baffled. "Jarvis, scan that mess, build a model—tell me which spear strikes are real!"
The Iron Man helmet's eyes glowed red as Jarvis processed the scene. "Sir, all of them are real… and all of them are false. The opponent's attacks are continuous and extraordinarily fast. He can alter the rhythm instantly. Wherever Thor aims his Trident, Gilgamesh is already placing a spearhead there."
"So every strike Thor throws is guaranteed to be intercepted," Stark muttered, already seeing the pattern. "But some of those strikes still get neutralized. Why?"
Jarvis hesitated. "Theoretically, sir… it's because—"
"He's holding back?" Tony cut in. The thought hit him badly. "Why? I thought he came to Earth strictly to fight for the throne."
"Sir, the situation may be far more complicated." From the villa's servers, Jarvis churned through data. "Every encounter since his arrival shows a pattern. He pressures Thor constantly. He nearly killed the Hulk, brutalized Captain America, and crushed every Avenger in his way… yet Thor, the main target, remains untouched."
The realization sank in. The Avengers were battered, near broken. Thor alone stood unharmed.
Stark exhaled sharply. "He's dragging out Thor's potential."
And he was right. Gilgamesh had been doing exactly that.
"Too slow! Too slow!" Gilgamesh taunted, voice sharp as a blade. "Your forehand is sloppy, your backhand is weak, your footwork is pathetic, and your reactions embarrass me. Not a single thing about you is acceptable. Tell me, my foolish brother—have you grown old and frail like our dear father?"
The crimson Rose Spear shimmered with a seductive red glow. Gilgamesh moved like a phantom—left, right, forward, backward. Dozens of afterimages warped around him. Before one faded, another flashed into existence, as if he'd grown multiple arms and faces. And through that whirlwind, he still found time to talk.
Seeing the overwhelming barrage of spear shadows crashing down, Thor was drenched in sweat, panic clawing at his chest. "Faster! Faster! It's fake—it's fake again!" His trident tore through the shifting phantoms, but the lack of leverage made the flaw glaring, and he could only push his speed a little further.
Gilgamesh watched with satisfaction, though he knew the finishing blow still needed pressure. A sharp flick of his spear tip made Thor feel a sudden stab in his waist. Surrounded by those crimson blossoms of death, he didn't dare look—he could only grit his teeth and endure.
He knew one thing: if he faltered even for a moment, if he failed here, Captain America would take another hit from Gilgamesh. That alone was unacceptable.
Captain America: (.-ω-)zzz Thanks, buddy.
The seductive flower of death soon bloomed with fresh blood. Each thrust drew out a spray, the spear tip sinking three inches deep—never hitting bone, always precise to the millimeter. The steady loss of blood was draining Thor's strength by the second.
"Is this… where I fall?" Thor's vision blurred. Gilgamesh's twisted grin flickered in front of him, then the despairing faces of the Avengers—hallucinations flashing like a broken slideshow.
Then—
Through the haze, a desperate voice rang in his ear. "Thor! Thor, get up! Defeat him! You must defeat him!"
"That… sounds like Loki?" Thor let out a bitter smile. That arrogant, slippery coward—said he wouldn't come, yet he'd been lurking in the shadows the whole time.
"Too bad… you're too late…"
With that final thought, his body collapsed, eyes shutting as everything went dark.
In the real world, Loki dropped his invisibility, heart lurching at the sight of his brother lying in a puddle of blood. He stumbled toward him, voice cracking. "Wake up! Wake up, Thor! Isn't fighting your favorite thing? Get up! Get up!"
He clutched Thor's limp body, sobbing like a lost child. For all their pranks and quarrels, neither had ever meant to deal a killing blow. But now this damned Gilgamesh—this lunatic—was actually willing to kill his own brother for a throne.
"Are you insane?" Loki's eyes burned red as he screamed at Gilgamesh—something he'd never dared to do before.
Gilgamesh stared down at him, icy and indifferent, the crimson glow of his magic still dripping like blood from a rose.
"On the path to becoming a king, sacrifices are inevitable. And you—you volunteered for the Trial of the King. Don't tell me you never understood that."
Loki let out a broken laugh, equal parts anger and heartbreak. "So what now? Are you going to kill me too?"
"Why wouldn't I?" Gilgamesh narrowed his eyes, his voice devoid of anything resembling humanity.