The battlefield waited.
Smoke curled skyward. Fires hissed where they'd been left smoldering. Thanos raised his blade, ready to strike again—
—and then every Avenger stopped.
Steve loosened his grip.
Thor let Stormbreaker drop. The weapon hit the ground with a hollow clang.
Clint unstrung his bow.
Wanda's red energy sputtered—and faded.
One by one, they discarded their weapons.
They turned.
They walked.
Thanos froze.
Confusion twisted into fury. "What is this?" he demanded, spreading his arms wide. "You surrender now?"
He laughed, harsh, sharp. "Is this how Earth's mightiest heroes fall? You break so easily?"
Tony stepped forward, slowly. Helmet retracting. Eyes tired. Hollow.
"No," he said quietly. "We didn't give up."
Thanos sneered. "Then why do you run?"
Tony's voice was flat. "Because winning this fight… means nothing. If she dies, nothing matters."
The battlefield held its breath.
"So go ahead," Tony said, voice rising slightly. "Take Earth. Burn it. Rule it. We don't care."
Thanos' smile faltered.
"We're… already dead," Tony added, quieter, sharper.
Silence.
Not the tense kind. The wrong kind.
Thanos stared at Tony, then at the others—their faces, their stillness, their refusal to fight.
Something shifted behind his eyes.
Fear.
Not of defeat.
Of irrelevance.
He lowered his blade slowly.
For the first time, the Infinity Stones didn't glow with triumph—they felt… small.
"…What have you seen?" Thanos asked, voice quieter now.
No one answered.
Thanos clenched his jaw, spinning on his heel.
"This war is postponed," he growled to his army. "Fall back. Regroup."
Portals opened. One by one, his forces withdrew, vanishing into the sky.
Thanos left, stones still in hand—
—but without victory.
The battlefield was left behind.
The Avengers didn't cheer.
They didn't speak.
They just sat.
Some collapsed where they stood. Others lowered themselves slowly to the ground, as if gravity had suddenly doubled.
They formed a loose circle without meaning to.
Wanda lingered apart for a moment, then raised her hands. Red fire bloomed—not wild, not violent. Controlled. Gentle.
One by one, she burned the fallen enemies' bodies. Quiet. Respectful.
No one stopped her.
Thor stared at the dirt between his boots. Steve sat with his elbows on his knees, shield forgotten beside him.
Clint leaned back against a broken wall, eyes fixed on the sky.
Bruce sat heavily, hands shaking slightly.
Peter hugged his knees, staring at the scorched ground.
Tony stood.
He looked around. At them. At the silence.
"So," he said finally, voice rough, "aren't we gonna do anything?"
No one answered immediately.
Steve spoke first. "I… don't know what to do."
Thor let out a hollow breath. "For the first time… neither do I."
Bruce frowned. "Everything we do… fixes problems inside the system."
He looked up. "She is the system."
Wanda's flames flickered. "We fight monsters. Armies. Ideas." Her voice cracked slightly. "How do you fight… being forgotten?"
Peter sniffed. "So… we just wait? Let the universe die?"
Tony shook his head. "No."
He sank onto the ground slowly, rubbing his hands together. "Okay," he said at last. "Let's pretend for a second that we're not… us."
Clint snorted softly. "That'll be the hardest part."
Tony didn't smile. "I mean it. No armor. No gods. No end-of-the-world buttons. Just… people."
Steve looked up. "And?"
"And people," Tony continued, voice low, "don't fix things by force… when force stops working."
Thor shifted, clearly uncomfortable. "In my experience, force usually works."
"Yeah," Tony said, glancing at him. "Until it doesn't."
Bruce spoke quietly. "We keep asking… how to save her."
Everyone turned to him.
"What if," Bruce continued, choosing his words carefully, "that's the wrong question?"
Wanda tilted her head. "Then… what is the right one?"
Bruce hesitated. "Why she didn't ask for help."
That landed harder than anyone expected.
Steve exhaled slowly. "Because she didn't want to interfere."
"Or," Clint added, "because she didn't trust herself not to."
Peter hugged his knees tighter. "She kept saying… it was her burden."
Tony nodded. "Yeah. That's the part that sticks."
He leaned back, staring at the gray sky. "Creators don't usually say that… unless they're already past the point of asking."
Thor frowned. "Then what are we meant to do? Sit here and watch the end approach?"
"No," Steve said firmly. "We don't abandon people."
"But we also don't force them," Wanda added.
Silence settled again.
Peter spoke again, barely above a whisper. "She sent us back… because we were making it about us."
That stung. Because it was true.
Tony rubbed the back of his neck, muttering, "So… what's left? Sit here and… stare at smoke?"
No one answered right away. The fire crackled, orange embers drifting lazily into the gray sky.
Wanda stared into it, quiet, measuring. "Listening," she said finally.
Tony raised an eyebrow. "That's it? That's the grand plan?"
"Maybe," Wanda replied softly. "For once… we don't act. We observe. We learn how the universe breathes without her intervention."
Bruce nodded slowly. "Understanding before interference."
Steve exhaled, voice low, almost bitter. "That goes against everything we do. Every battle we've ever fought, every choice… we act. That's what we are."
"Yes," Wanda said, voice steady, eyes still on the flames, "which is why this might actually matter."
Thor looked up at the smoky sky. "And if the end comes while we are… understanding?"
Tony straightened, voice quieter now, reflective. "Then… at least we won't be pretending we had the right to decide for her."
They didn't like that answer.
But none of them rejected it either.
Then Clint spoke, voice laced with skepticism. "I don't know. I mean… she says she's the Almighty. That's a hell of a claim."
Peter nodded. "Yeah… one woman calling herself the core of the universe? That's hard to buy."
Steve's eyes narrowed, scanning the platform. "You've seen her, Clint. You've all seen what she did."
Tony smirked, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You mean the part where she tells us all we're idiots for thinking we can help? Because that's one thing. But Almighty? That's another."
Steve stepped forward, voice firm. "I defended her once. And I will again. She is the real deal."
"Yeah, Cap?" Peter asked, eyebrows high.
Steve's expression hardened. "Do you not remember what she did just a couple of hours ago? The Chitauri? She didn't raise a hand and hope for the best. She raised a hand and a Chitauri … imploded. Just like that. Gone."
Tony's smirk turned into a wry grin. "Oh, don't forget the time she handled that Infinity Stone like it was a piece of chalk. Crushed it. Bare hands. No effort. You ever try to crush an Infinity Stone? Exactly. That's a Monday for her."
Peter's jaw dropped. "Wait… she actually—?"
Bruce shook his head slowly, impressed despite himself. "We've been witnessing power that's orders of magnitude beyond anything we've ever fought. This isn't bragging. This is fact."
Clint muttered under his breath. "Okay… yeah, maybe she isn't just another cosmic wildcard. She's… something else entirely."
Wanda's eyes softened slightly. "She's not exaggerating. Every action we've seen, every system she's stabilized, every threat she's neutralized… all without intervention from us."
Thor raised his chin, gaze thoughtful. "I have faced gods, monsters, and the devils of other realms. She is… above all of them. No mortal—or immortal—has the reach she possesses."
Tony leaned back against a wall, voice quiet now, almost reluctant. "Alright, fine. She's the real deal. Almighty, untouchable, single-handedly holding the universe together. Happy now?"
Steve gave a short nod. "Happy isn't the word. Respect. Awe. Fear. But yes… now you understand why she makes the choices she does."
Then Peter spoke, voice tentative, like he wasn't sure he should.
"Okay… uh… can I admit something dumb?"
Tony glanced up. "Historically, yes."
Peter flushed. "I kinda thought the Almighty would be… like… a guy?"
Steve blinked. Thor lifted his head slightly.
"I don't know," Peter rushed on. "Old robes, big beard, thunder maybe—"
Tony huffed. "Yeah. Welcome to shattered expectations, kid."
"But she is the Almighty," Peter insisted, confused. "Like—the Almighty. Doesn't that mean—"
"—maybe she isn't stuck with one look," Tony cut in. "Could be any gender. None. Whatever she felt like being at the time."
That… actually landed.
Peter exhaled. "Oh."
Wanda nodded slowly. "That makes sense."
Thor murmured, "The eldest beings I have known… were never singular in form."
Peter grinned faintly. "Okay. Cool. That's actually kinda awesome."
The mood lifted—just enough to breathe in.
Then Thor's voice returned, quieter, heavier.
"We return to the same matter."
Steve closed his eyes briefly. "Yeah."
Thor looked around at them. "Even if she agreed to create a protector—something beneath her power but strong enough to oppose Satan—the question remains unchanged."
He met their eyes, one by one.
"Who enters her mind?"
No one answered.
Peter scratched the back of his neck. "We've… talked about this already."
Tony nodded grimly. "Yeah. We're just—" he gestured vaguely, "—circling."
Bruce exhaled. "Every path leads back to that point."
"And every candidate brings the same problem," Steve added.
Strange folded her arms. "Too vulnerable."
"Too burdened," Clint muttered.
"Too tied to belief," Thor said.
"Too human," Bruce finished quietly.
Tony stared at the fire. "Which is ironic, 'cause that's the whole point."
Peter looked up, voice low. "What if the strongest will isn't the loudest one?"
Steve glanced at him. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know," Peter said quickly. "Every time we talk about 'strong will,' we think stubborn. Resistant. Unbending."
Tony frowned. "That's… fair."
"But maybe," Peter continued, "it's someone who knows what it's like to not win. To sit with loss. And not break."
The group fell quiet—not because they'd found an answer, but because the shape of the question shifted slightly.
Thor exhaled. "That does not narrow the field."
Time passed in that strange, stretched way it does when thinking stops being productive and starts becoming survival. Smoke drifted. The fire dimmed and flared again. Someone shifted. Someone else sighed.
Minutes. Maybe longer.
The universe didn't offer hints.
Then Bruce straightened slightly.
Not abruptly—just enough to signal a thought finishing itself.
He didn't say anything.
Across from him, Strange's brow furrowed, fingers tensing unconsciously, like two separate lines of reasoning had just intersected.
Wanda's eyes widened a fraction.
Steve sat up straighter.
Clint tilted his head. "…Oh."
Tony froze.
Really froze.
His mouth opened just slightly.
"No," he said under his breath.
Thor looked up, attention sharpening. "What?"
No one answered him immediately.
They were all standing now, almost without realizing it. A slow rise, like gravity had changed direction.
They looked at each other.
Then—together, voices overlapping—
"Loki."
The word hung in the air.
Thor's face went still.
"What?" he said sharply.
"No," he repeated, louder. "No. Loki is dead."
Tony turned toward him, careful. "Thor—"
"He died," Thor snapped. "I watched it happen. Thanos killed him."
"I know," Steve said gently. "We all do."
Thor shook his head, jaw tightening. "Then why would you say his name so casually?"
Wanda spoke, hesitant but steady. "Because the only being we know who—"
"—has free will," Strange picked up, "has survived direct mental corruption, understands manipulation from both sides, and has stood adjacent to godhood—"
"—without wanting to rule the universe permanently," Clint finished.
Thor stared at them, disbelief sharpening into anger.
"You are discussing my brother," he said. "As if he were a tool."
Tony took a breath. "No. We're discussing him as a paradox."
"A survivor," Bruce added. "Someone who has walked the line between light and darkness and didn't erase himself in the process. Someone who betrayed you… yes, but also saved you."
Thor laughed once, hollow. "That is a generous reinterpretation of his crimes."
"We're not pretending he was good," Steve said. "We're saying he was… suited."
Thor turned away, fists clenched. "You are asking me to gamble everything on a man who betrayed me more times than I can count."
Peter hesitated. "But that's kind of the point, right?"
They all looked at him.
"He chose betrayal," Peter said quietly. "But he also chose to stop. At least… sometimes."
Thor's breath hitched slightly. "He always wanted to be seen," then he said. "Believed in. Even when he pretended not to care."
"And he knows Satan's language," Strange added. "Temptation. Dominion. Power offered as mercy."
Tony rubbed his jaw. "And unlike us," he said, "he's comfortable being the bad idea."
Thor shook his head again. "You are all speaking nonsense."
"Then answer me this," Steve said.
Thor met his gaze.
"If Loki were alive," Steve asked carefully, "would you trust him with this?"
Thor opened his mouth—
—and stopped.
Silence pressed in.
Clint muttered, "That hesitation is doing a lot of talking."
Thor exhaled slowly. "…If he were alive," he said, reluctantly, "he might be the only one… arrogant enough to think he could survive it."
Tony nodded grimly. "That checks out."
"But he is not alive," Thor said firmly. "So this is pointless."
Thor didn't speak for a while.
He stood apart from the circle now, staring at the scorched ground where Stormbreaker had landed earlier, as if the dirt itself might confirm something he'd already seen too many times.
"I watched him die," Thor said at last. His voice low, flat—worse than a shout. "Thanos crushed his throat. I held him. Felt him… go."
No one interrupted.
"You cannot undo that," Thor continued, jaw tight. "You cannot ask me to pretend otherwise."
Scott shifted, hands in his pockets, thinking hard. Then—like a spark catching—
"Okay, weird question," he said. "But… haven't we been here before?"
They all turned toward him.
"With Loki," Scott clarified. "Dead. Gone. Heartbreaking. Then—boom—time travel."
Tony blinked slowly. "Oh no. Don't you dare."
"Hey," Scott pushed on, encouraged now, "it's not my idea. We already time‑heisted the Infinity Stones once. What if this time… we time‑heist Loki?"
Steve's brow furrowed. "You mean…"
"A Loki," Scott said. "From the past."
Tony straightened, incredulous. "You're seriously suggesting we… grab Loki out of the timeline?"
"Not grab," Scott said quickly. "Borrow."
Bruce frowned. "That opens a hundred problems we're not ready for."
"Yeah," Scott said, raising his hands, "but it also opens one solution."
Thor turned slowly, gaze hard. "You speak as if that version of my brother would be willing."
"That's problem number two," Tony said. "We're not even there yet."
Wanda tilted her head. "Even if you brought him here… why would he help?"
Clint snorted. "Exactly. What's stopping him from hearing 'Almighty' and thinking, Oh cool, new throne?"
"That's generous," Tony muttered. "I was imagining 'I run existence now, thanks.'"
Steve exhaled slowly. "We're assuming he'd even believe us."
Strange nodded, fingers steepled. "Convincing Loki that a dying creator of the universe exists—without him exploiting that knowledge—is… delicate."
Peter grimaced. "So how do you convince a god of mischief to become… a doctor?"
No one had an answer.
Thor crossed his arms tightly. "You do not."
Silence crept in like smoke.
Tony exhaled sharply, cutting through it. "One problem at a time."
They all turned to him.
"First," he said, ticking off fingers, "we confirm whether this is even possible. Past Loki. Time travel. Reconstruction."
He gestured toward the wreckage scattered across the ground. "Which means… rebuilding what Thanos broke."
Bruce nodded slowly. "The quantum framework is gone."
"But not the knowledge," Tony said quickly. "And not the people."
Peter's eyes lit up. "We could rebuild it?"
Tony gave a thin, wry smile. "I love how you said 'we,' like you're not still grounded."
Wanda's voice cut through the small humor, careful and low. "How would we even reach her?"
The question hung. Everyone froze.
"The platform," she continued. "Does anyone know where it is? A location. A coordinate. A plane of existence?"
No one answered.
Steve's jaw tightened. Clint exhaled through his nose. Strange looked away, already calculating possibilities—and finding nothing.
Thor closed his eyes. "We followed. We did not track."
The thought collapsed inward, leaving the circle heavier than before.
Scott broke the silence weakly. "So… even if we get Loki… we don't know where to take him."
It hung there, a half-formed dead end.
But Tony didn't stop smiling. Small, tight, focused. "One," he said again, counting deliberately on his fingers. "Problem. At. A. Time."
Steve looked at him warily. "That optimism is starting to scare me."
Tony shrugged. "I'm not optimistic. I'm compartmentalizing."
He stood, shoulders squared, eyes scanning each of them. "We rebuild the machine. First priority. Everything else is theoretical until then."
He glanced at Thor. "And whether Loki stays dead or not? We don't decide that tonight."
Thor didn't respond—but he didn't leave either.