Just as J.A.R.V.I.S. had announced, "Ready to activate full power transmission mode," a golden beam of light pierced the sky.
It tore through the darkness like a divine spear.
Hope lit up amidst despair.
A path had been carved through Tony's desperate situation—a way to survive. The footage recorded from the Mk armor began to shake violently as it accelerated, escaping the death vortex of the undead.
Then the camera turned—J.A.R.V.I.S. gave the world a final glimpse of what was left behind.
Everyone watching the footage from the medical bay fell into silence.
In the center of the shattered, fog-covered crossroads, under the roiling sky, stood a lone figure.
There were no comrades, no backup. No shield generators. No artillery.
Only the Goddess of Judgment—her black night-suit fluttering slightly in the ghostly wind. One person, one motorcycle, two guns, standing defiantly in the face of death.
The sky darkened as the undead returned. More demons flooded the horizon, coming like a tidal wave of flesh and malice. They blotted out the sky, crawling forward like locusts crossing the border.
But she did not flinch.
She stood there.
Waiting.
Facing hell alone.
Tony's flight path—his hopeless confrontation with the vortex of the undead—suddenly overlapped with the imagery of Bella's lone stand. The parallel burned into the minds of all who watched.
Jessica Jones opened her mouth but said nothing. Her voice caught in her throat.
"She… Tony…"
She couldn't finish.
The terror, the despair—she knew those feelings all too well. She had felt them during her darkest days, trapped under the thumb of a man who made her question her reality. But with time and allies—Daredevil, Luke, the others—she had climbed back out.
And yet, even in all her nightmares, she had never faced this.
Tony and the Goddess of Judgment had stepped willingly into despair… and kept walking.
That courage was beyond comprehension.
Barton, Punisher, Blade, Daredevil—every one of them had fought in darkness. They had killed and nearly died doing it. They weren't strangers to danger.
But none of them had stood alone before the end of the world.
Bella, true to her name, had become a symbol of judgment—not just of evil, but of willpower. Of defiance.
And Tony… he had everything. Wealth, fame, tech, women, yachts. He could've walked away. He could've bought an island and waited out the apocalypse with a glass of scotch and a satellite uplink.
But instead, he followed Bella into the abyss.
He made good on his declaration to the world.
Bang!
Barton turned around and slammed his fist into the wall, hard. The impact echoed through the hall. He ignored the pain, his knuckles reddening immediately.
He used to dismiss Tony as a playboy—a spoiled genius in a suit. A rich kid with toys and bravado.
But after seeing that video?
He would never question the name Iron Man again.
Barton's voice was a low growl. "Rhodes. Hill. Where are the weapons?"
"I'm going to rip those bastards apart."
His eyes burned with fury. He wasn't the only one.
Around him, every hero—Punisher, Blade, Jessica, Daredevil, Luke—wore the same expression. The fire inside them was no longer flickering. It was blazing.
Hill didn't flinch under Barton's glare. "I'm going."
"Same," Rhodes added, his voice grim.
Without another word, the two left the base, heading straight for the S.H.I.E.L.D. Quinjet and the rear military factory. They couldn't sit here and wait any longer. Not while their friends were dying.
Fury stood back, watching it all unfold.
Superheroes, soldiers, agents, demon hunters, priests—everyone had gathered here for a cause. He hadn't expected them to truly work together. They were too different. Too volatile.
But now?
Tony's near-death… Bella's defiance…
It had lit a fire in them all.
Fury smiled faintly to himself.
Now, he believed in the plan.
Now, they were ready.
BOOM!
A thunderous tremor rocked the base.
Dust poured from the ceiling cracks. Lights flickered and sparked. The walls groaned.
Everyone staggered, barely staying upright.
Barton narrowly dodged a chunk of falling rubble.
"What the hell was that?"
"In the mist!" someone shouted from the observation post.
The quake subsided, but a sense of dread filled the air.
The group rushed outside—and what they saw made even the most hardened of them freeze.
In the distance, just beyond the edge of the black mist, a colossal demon emerged.
Nearly a kilometer tall, it loomed like a titan of nightmare. Its body burned with molten veins of lava. Massive horns jutted from its skull. In its right hand, it held a giant axe—wreathed in living hellfire.
And it was laughing.
Its roar shattered the sky.
"Pitiful humans. You will all be dust."
The demon raised its axe and slammed it into the ground.
BOOOOOM!
The force shook the earth.
A shockwave exploded outward, tearing through the mist. Winds howled. The land cracked. Hills crumbled. Forests were flattened like paper. The wave of destruction surged for nearly a hundred kilometers.
Houses, telephone poles, even rocky terrain—all reduced to rubble.
Only by sheer distance did the S.H.I.E.L.D. base avoid the full force.
But they felt it.
Jessica stood, wide-eyed. "What… is that thing…?"
She could barely speak.
A single flick of that demon's finger could probably snap her in half.
Fury's normally unshakable expression twisted. His lips parted. And for once, he didn't hold back.
"Motherf—"
He stopped himself.
But it was clear.
Even he was rattled.
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