-Real World-
Tony squinted his eyes as he watched the transport ships tilting toward the forest, his analytical mind already calculating trajectories and potential counterasures.
"Whoa! That's quite a formidable display! But Wakanda's barrier technology is also very strong and it resisted their first wave of attempts. Otherwise, they would have rushed directly into the city."
Nick Fury's face grew solemn as he processed what they were witnessing. Although there was only one ring-shaped spaceship visible on the screen, who knew if there would be more arriving later? The possibilities were endless and terrifying.
He was not optimistic about the battle of Wakanda. After all, the broadcast had already predicted that they would face failure, so they would definitely lose first and then win. But he needed to know how they would turn defeat into victory—that was the crucial question.
Tony also wanted to know, but he understood with crystal clarity that for this war, he could not rely on the thods revealed by the broadcast. Thanos would not sit idly by and allow the sa strategies to work twice. The Mad Titan would adapt, counter, and overwhelm any defense he'd already witnessed.
Fortunately, he had cooperated with the military and produced drones day and night. His global strategic defense system had begun to take effect, and the Iron Legion now boasted more than a thousand units—a formidable force by any asure.
But Tony thought this was far from enough. The fear of insufficient firepower had always lingered in his mind like a shadow he couldn't shake. The only thing that could soothe his anxious heart was the Mark 18 armor that was about to be successfully developed.
Due to ti constraints, even with the brilliant assistance of Shuri and Rocket, Tony still couldn't fully understand the properties of special tals such as Uru Steel. The materials defied conventional physics in ways that frustrated even his genius-level intellect.
Coupled with Tony's incomplete understanding of the Infinity Stones themselves, the Mark 18 was expected to only be able to carry the energy of three Infinity Stones. But this was already a huge improvent for Tony—a monuntal leap forward in capability.
He believed that one day, he would be able to create a battle armor that could fully control all six gems, even if the slots were empty. What he wanted was the effect that the battle armor could be activated imdiately after the gems were loaded—plug and play divinity.
Now, he was eager to know how Thanos would attack Wakanda. It seed clear that the enemy was going to fight a land battle with them. This was actually good news for Tony. After all, those who ran on the ground would always lose to those who flew in the sky! Air superiority was everything.
-Broadcast-
Inside Wakanda's advanced laboratory, Captain Arica and T'Challa stood near the windows, looking out at the scene unfolding beyond the barrier. The transport ships had landed in a periter around the entire shield, creating a ring of potential invasion points. The two leaders exchanged a silent glance, understanding passing between them without words—this was it. The final stand.
Vision struggled to sit up on the dical bed, sensors and holographic displays still attached to his vibranium body. His voice was strained with urgency. "We're out of ti. They can't stop him, Wanda. Destroy the stone now."
Natasha Romanoff turned sharply, her hand raised in a commanding gesture. "Vision, get your ass back on the table."
"We will hold them off," T'Challa said with absolute conviction, already turning toward the exit. His royal robes swirled as he moved with purpose.
Captain Arica stepped closer to Wanda, his blue eyes eting hers with the weight of command. His voice was firm but not unkind. "Wanda, as soon as that stone's out of his head... you blow it to hell."
Wanda nodded, her jaw set with determination despite the fear in her eyes. "I will."
T'Challa was already striding through the corridors of the palace, his King's Guard falling into formation around him. Okoye kept pace at his side as he issued rapid commands. "Evacuate the city. Engage all defense procedures." He paused mid-stride, turning to point directly at Captain Arica who was following behind. "And get this man a shield!"
The command echoed through the halls as warriors scrambled to prepare for the coming storm.
-Broadcast-
anwhile, light-years away on the dead forge world of Nidavellir, Thor stood ready to attempt the impossible. The massive ring structures hung frozen in space around the dying star core, covered in centuries of ice and neglect. This ancient stellar forge, once the beating heart of weapons that could challenge gods, had been cold for far too long.
Rocket Raccoon piloted his small M-Ship toward the edge of the enormous rings, his furry face twisted in skepticism. He looked out at the massive structures and grumbled over the comm, "I don't think you get the scientifics here. These rings are gigantic. You wanna get them moving, you're gonna need sothing to make them move."
Thor stood on top of the small spacecraft, one hand gripping a thick steel cable that was attached to the ship. Wind—or what passed for wind in the thin atmosphere of Nidavellir—whipped his hair and beard. He looked up at the challenge before him, his remaining eye blazing with determination.
He jumped down onto the first star ring, his boots clanging against ancient tal. Looking back at the ship, he called out confidently, "Leave that to !"
"Leave it to you?" Rocket's voice crackled with disbelief. "Buddy, you're in space. All you got is a rope and—"
Before Rocket could finish his sentence, Thor tightened his grip on the rope and began to spin. His god-like strength sent the entire spacecraft whipping around him in a massive circle, building montum with each rotation. The cable sang with tension.
Inside the ship, Rocket was thrown violently around the cockpit, his body slamming against the walls. "AAAAHHHHH! MORE FIRE! I'LL KILL YOU!" he scread, his voice distorted by the g-forces.
"More power, rabbit!" Thor roared back, his muscles straining as he spun faster and faster, the ship becoming a blur of motion.
After building sufficient inertia, Thor released his grip. The spacecraft shot forward like a stone from a sling, rocketing across the gap between rings at trendous velocity.
"Fire the engines!" Thor commanded as he was pulled along by the rope, still attached.
Rocket, dizzy but functional thanks to his cybernetic enhancents, grabbed the controls and shoved the throttle forward. "I'm gonna die surrounded by the biggest idiots in the galaxy," he muttered, but the ship's engines roared to life, adding their thrust to the montum Thor had created.
Thor flew through space, still gripping the rope, and landed hard on the next ring. His massive body hit the frozen tal with trendous force. The impact was so violent that he plowed a deep furrow through the ice and tal, his boots digging a trench dozens of ters long. Sparks flew and ice shattered around him, but his incredible durability allowed him to slow himself down before he tore completely through the ring structure.
Muscles bulging, veins standing out on his arms, Thor pulled the rope with every ounce of his godly strength. He planted his feet and roared, "MORE POWER, RABBIT!"
Inside the M-Ship, Rocket pushed the throttle past its safety limits. The engine scread in protest, red lights flashing across the dashboard. "AAAAAHHHH!"
The combined force was incredible—divine strength and advanced propulsion working in tandem. With a trendous cracking sound that echoed across the dead forge, the ice encasing the star ring finally shattered. Massive chunks of frozen crystal exploded outward, glittering in the faint starlight. The huge star ring, freed from its icy prison, began to slowly rotate. The movent was agonizing at first, groaning and scraping, but it was moving.
As the ring gained montum, other rings began to turn as well, the ancient chanisms still functional after all these years. The neutron star at the center—the Death Star forge core—began to glow brighter. Light that had been dormant for years suddenly blazed to life, illuminating Nidavellir once again in brilliant white radiance.
The rings aligned one by one, clicking into their proper positions with chanical precision. The entire forge structure ca alive, energy coursing through conduits that had been cold for too long.
Eitri the dwarf, watching from the foundry platform, felt tears pricking his eyes as he witnessed his life's work restored. He whispered in awe and gratitude, "Well done."
Thor landed back on Rocket's ship with a heavy thud, breathing hard but grinning with fierce excitent. He pointed toward the blazing star core, his voice filled with pride. "That's Nidavellir!"
Rocket stared at the neutron star core through the windscreen, his jaw hanging open. He'd seen a lot in his years as an outlaw and guardian, but this? This was sothing else entirely. The power contained in that stellar furnace could forge weapons that killed gods. "Damn," he breathed.
The star core activated fully, its imnse energy building to critical levels. The focusing iris—a massive chanical lens system—began to operate. Ancient gears turned, and the iris opened wider, channeling the star's power. A concentrated beam of stellar energy shot from the core, traveling through the alignnt of the rings and directing straight into the forge below.
The foundry blazed to life, tal beginning to glow red, then orange, then white-hot.
But the triumph was short-lived. The chanisms had been dormant for too long, frozen and then suddenly subjected to temperatures in the thousands of degrees. The thermal shock was too much. With a grinding shriek of tortured tal, the core components couldn't withstand the sudden surge of energy. Gears snapped, conduits burst, and critical pieces were blown apart by the forces they were trying to contain.
The focusing iris shut down imdiately, safety protocols engaging. The energy beam winked out of existence as quickly as it had appeared. The forge, which had been blazing monts before, began to dim and cool once more.
Eitri's face fell as he watched his hope die. "Damn it."
Rocket looked around in confusion, checking his instrunts. "Damn it? What's damn it?"
"The iris is jamd!" Eitri called out, frustration and despair mixing in his voice.
Thor's expression shifted from elation to shock. "What?!"
"I can't heat the tal without the iris!" Eitri explained, gesturing helplessly at the closed chanism. Without that focused beam, the forge was just an expensive paperweight.
Thor's mind raced through possibilities. "How long would the tal need to be in the beam?"
"A few minutes, maybe more," Eitri said, uncertainty in his voice. He'd never had to calculate such things before—the iris had always worked. "Why?"
Thor slowly stood up on the deck of the ship, his jaw set with grim determination. He looked at the massive focusing chanism floating in space between him and the star core. His voice was steady, accepting. "I'm gonna hold it open."
"That's suicide," Eitri said flatly, his remaining eye wide with horror at what Thor was suggesting.
"So is facing Thanos without that axe," Thor replied simply. The logic was undeniable—he would die trying to forge Stormbreaker, or he would die fighting Thanos empty-handed. At least this way, his death might an sothing.
He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with recycled air one more ti, and then leaped off the ship toward the iris chanism, sailing through the void toward the blazing heart of a neutron star.
-Real World-
Thor watched his past self make the leap and nodded with grim satisfaction. "It's exactly the sa as it was back then! But without Carol, I have to push the star ring by myself!"
He knew very well what would happen next. His past self would survive this ordeal—barely—and gain even greater strength. Although he still wouldn't be as powerful as he was now in his current tiline, he would erge from the forge extraordinarily powerful, wielding a weapon capable of killing Thanos.
Thor reflected on what might have been. If he had experienced this life-and-death ordeal and obtained the axe when he was still in Asgard, he might have had a real chance to defeat Hela. But only if he didn't get caught in a prolonged battle with her—he would have needed to decide the victor in one decisive strike.
After all, Hela's recovery ability while standing on Asgard's soil was too abnormal, almost equivalent to true immortality. The longer any fight lasted, the more the odds shifted in her favor.
But that was the past. Now, watching the broadcast, he could only observe as his forr self prepared to endure unimaginable agony in the heart of a dying star.
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