Looking down at Tony Stark—still pinned helplessly to the ground—Gilgamesh casually waved his hand. The artifact embedded in his body shattered into golden fragments that dissolved into the air.
Seeing the malicious smile on Gilgamesh's face, Stark felt an involuntary clench of fear ripple through his body. He shivered and stammered, "If you… if you like men, I can introduce you to a few handsome guys. Seriously, I'm almost thirty, and my preferences are very normal…"
The more Tony rambled, the darker Gilgamesh's expression became. "I was planning to give you a mild punishment," he said coldly, "but it seems you're determined to dig your own grave. Since you insist you like women, then I hereby issue a curse."
His voice rose, vast and divine. "Tony Stark, from this day forward, you shall bear an infinite desire for men. Even if your soul descends into the underworld, this oath shall never be undone."
The moment the words fell, Tony felt a burning sensation spread across his chest. Jarvis instantly brought up a scan—displaying a strange, intricate rune.
"Sir, after analysis, this symbol matches runes found in Norse mythology. I believe you've been placed under a magical curse, though the exact effects are not yet clear," Jarvis reported kindly, making Stark's stomach drop.
"Impossible! I believe in science! Science!" Tony muttered desperately, as if chanting it would make the terror go away. Unfortunately, it didn't help.
After dealing with Iron Man, Gilgamesh turned his gaze to Natasha. Odin's runes were a language of power—each symbol a word, each combination a spell. As long as one's strength paled before Gilgamesh's divine force, their body and soul would be bound by its magic.
Note: In the movies, Odin cast a rune upon Thor's hammer, making it immovable to the unworthy. Even Thanos couldn't lift it. This is the author's own interpretation—after all, as the son of the All-Father, it's not strange for him to know a few of his father's tricks.
"It's clear your profession makes you a habitual liar," Gilgamesh said with a strange smile. He gripped Black Widow by the neck like a kitten and lifted her effortlessly. Leaning close, he whispered, "To redeem your soul, I declare this: from now on, every lie you tell will bring you unbearable pain."
Marvel detail: Natasha once infiltrated Stark's camp, causing Tony to distrust her. Even in Civil War, he called her a double agent. Marvel really pays attention to continuity.
As Gilgamesh's divine power fell upon her, Natasha felt a searing pain bloom across her back. A rune—different from Stark's—etched itself into her skin like a fiery tattoo.
Next came Hawkeye.
"I bestow upon you the fate of a lone star," Gilgamesh proclaimed. "Every reunion with your family will carry misfortune. Illness and bad luck shall follow your loved ones until the day you die."
Hawkeye's greatest weakness had always been his family. In Endgame, the first thing he did during the time-travel test was rush home to them. This curse would cut deeper than any wound.
Then Gilgamesh turned to Captain America. A cruel grin spread across his face.
"I've heard you're the symbol of this nation," he said. "A heart as pure as a saint. Tell me, Captain… do you really never do anything wrong?"
Rogers felt a chill crawl down his spine. "What are you planning to do?" he asked, instinctively looking to the Ancient One—the only person who might stop this.
But the Sorcerer Supreme only shrugged with a helpless, weary smile.
Rogers's hope faded—and then Gilgamesh's booming, divine voice struck him like a hammer.
"I declare, Steve Rogers: from this day forward, every evil deed you commit will bring you overwhelming pleasure. Even stepping on an ant shall fill you with joy… until your soul is utterly corrupted."
This curse was a poison—an addiction that would slowly erode his conscience. In time, the dragon slayer would become the dragon, and Captain America would walk the same path as the Red Skull.
To him, nothing could be more devastating.
Having dealt with Steve, Gilgamesh turned his gaze toward the Hulk, who was still suspended in mid-air by the Chains of Heaven. A vajra remained embedded deep in the Hulk's chest; the wound writhed as it tried to regenerate, but under the vajra's divine suppression, every trace of healing was instantly neutralized.
Gilgamesh knew Hulk possessed a certain level of intelligence—though nowhere near exceptional. The big green kid lived to smash and vent his endless rage. With a casual wave of his hand, Gilgamesh granted him a blessing that would forever change him:
"I hereby declare that Bruce Banner shall eternally maintain a calm and tranquil state of mind, unmoved by external joy or sorrow, until the day of his death."
For Banner, this was a form of salvation—but also a sentence. Once he returned to human form, he would never again be able to transform into the Hulk. Just like that, one of the Avengers' strongest fighters was effectively crippled.
Next, Gilgamesh shifted his eyes toward his usually submissive brother, Loki. That single glance nearly made the so-called God of Mischief collapse. He trembled, voice cracking:
"D-dear brother… you're not planning to cast that kind of curse on me too, are you?"
He had every reason to fear. Gilgamesh's divine power rivaled that of Odin himself. Once Gilgamesh laid a spell upon someone, unless he personally dispelled it, they might have to endure it for the rest of their life.
Seeing Loki trembling like a terrified rabbit, Gilgamesh let out a long, exhausted sigh. He might not be his true blood brother, but after raising this little stray god for so many years, some feelings naturally formed.
"Useless fool. Look at yourself! You've completely embarrassed our divine race!"
His words were sharp and scolding, but what followed revealed his true intentions.
"In the name of the God of Light, I decree that Loki Odinson shall be granted extraordinary magical aptitude and will henceforth train under the Sorcerer Supreme until he masters all her arts. During this period, should you dare step outside the sanctuary of Kamar-Taj, you will suffer unbearable pain."
"Hey—Gilgamesh! I'm already the greatest sorcerer in the Nine Realms!" Loki protested, puffing up his chest—only to immediately shrink back when Gilgamesh shot him a cold, dismissive glare.
"What level do you think you're at? Do you truly have no self-awareness?"
After finishing his reprimand, Gilgamesh turned toward the Ancient One.
"Then, Sorcerer Supreme, please discipline him for me."
Though phrased as a request, the tone left absolutely no room for refusal.
The Ancient One remained unperturbed. One troublesome apprentice, two troublesome apprentices—it made little difference. Another wayward god wouldn't increase her workload by much. What did pique her interest, however, was her question:
"Aren't you worried that I'll end up cultivating an opponent even you can't face head-on?"
Gilgameshdin laughed, full of scorn.
"Only the weak fear the strength of future rivals. When Loki reaches the level of the Sorcerer Supreme, I will already stand far above him."