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After Heimdall's body slumped lifelessly to the floor, Thanos stepped aside with cold indifference. Corvus Glaive moved forward and gripped the handle of his weapon, pulling the bloodied glaive from Heimdall's chest with a sickening sound. The guardian's blood dripped from the blade as Corvus examined it briefly before stepping back to his position.
Ebony Maw glided across the chamber with deliberate grace, his robes flowing behind him. He bent down and retrieved the Tesseract from where Loki had dropped it, the blue cube glowing softly in his elongated fingers. With reverent movements, he approached his master and slowly lowered himself to one knee, his head bowed in worship.
"My humble personage bows before your grandeur," Ebony Maw intoned, his voice filled with devotional fervor. His hands lifted the Tesseract as an offering.
Thanos reached up and removed his helmet, revealing his ridged purple face fully. His expression was contemplative, almost serene, as he began to unfasten the clasps of his golden battle armor. Piece by piece, the heavy plating fell away, clattering to the floor. Beneath it, he wore a simple, functional suit—the armor of a warrior no longer needed when victory was already assured.
Ebony Maw continued his reverent speech, his tone worshipful. "No other being has ever had the might, nay the nobility, to wield not one, but two Infinity Stones."
Thanos accepted the Tesseract, holding it in his massive palm. The cube, which had seemed imposing in Loki's hands, looked almost delicate in Thanos's grip—a toy held by a giant.
"The universe lies within your grasp," Ebony Maw proclaimed, spreading his arms wide as if presenting all of creation to his master.
Thanos studied the Tesseract carefully, turning it over in his hand, examining each facet with clinical interest. His fingers closed around it slowly, deliberately. Then, with controlled pressure, he began to squeeze.
The crystalline structure groaned under the force. Cracks spiderwebbed across its surface, glowing with internal blue light. Then, with a sharp crystalline CRACK, the Tesseract shattered completely, fragments exploding outward.
Thanos brought his hand to his mouth and blew gently, dispersing the broken shards like dust on the wind. They scattered and fell, glittering as they tumbled to the floor. Left behind in his palm, freed from its prison, was the Space Stone—a brilliant blue gem that pulsed with cosmic energy.
He held the stone between his thumb and forefinger, examining it with satisfaction. Then, with deliberate slowness, he brought it toward the Infinity Gauntlet on his left hand.
The Gauntlet itself seemed to respond, its metal warming and glowing. The second socket—empty until now—began to pulse with anticipation. As the Space Stone drew near, it was pulled from Thanos's fingers by an invisible force, drawn magnetically into the empty setting. The stone clicked into place with a resonant hum.
Instantly, a massive surge of energy erupted from the Gauntlet. Blue light exploded outward in waves, washing over Thanos's body. The Mad Titan threw his arms wide, his head tilted back, embracing the rush of power flooding through him. His entire form was bathed in the Space Stone's radiance.
The sensation was intoxicating. With the Space Stone, he could go anywhere. Any location in the universe was now accessible in an instant. Distance had become meaningless. The cosmos had just become infinitely smaller.
From his metal prison, Thor watched helplessly, his single eye blazing with impotent fury. Seeing Thanos successfully claim a second Infinity Stone, knowing what that meant for Earth, for the universe, filled him with bitter rage. But bound as he was, injured and exhausted, there was nothing he could do. Nothing.
Thanos lowered his arms, gazing at the Infinity Gauntlet with satisfaction. The Power Stone glowed purple. The Space Stone glowed blue. Two down. Four to go.
"There are two more on Earth," Thanos said, his deep voice carrying absolute authority. He raised his gaze to the four members of the Black Order standing before him. "Find them, my children. Bring them to me on Titan."
At his command, all four generals immediately dropped to one knee in perfect synchronization, their heads bowed.
Proxima Midnight, her blue skin gleaming in the dim light, raised her head and spoke with fierce devotion. "Father, we will not let you down."
Just as the moment seemed to settle into solemn purpose, an unexpected voice cut through the tension.
"If I might interject..."
The four generals rose to their feet and turned in unison, their weapons at the ready. Behind them, Loki stepped forward from the shadows where he'd been standing, his hands raised in a gesture of casual nonchalance.
He walked toward them with surprising confidence given the circumstances, stepping over debris and corpses as if taking a leisurely stroll. His voice carried that familiar tone of silver-tongued persuasion.
"If you're going to Earth, you might want a guide," Loki suggested smoothly. "I do have a bit of experience in that arena."
Thanos regarded him with cold amusement, one corner of his mouth lifting slightly. "If you consider failure experience."
"I consider experience experience," Loki countered without missing a beat, his voice never wavering. He continued his measured approach, each step calculated. "Almighty Thanos, I, Loki..."
He paused in his advance, his gaze flickering briefly toward Thor—just for an instant—before returning to Thanos.
"Prince of Asgard..." Another step forward. His voice took on a more formal, ceremonial quality. "Odinson..."
His eyes found Thor again, holding his brother's gaze for just a heartbeat longer this time.
"The rightful King of Jotunheim..." He was closer now, within striking distance. "God of Mischief..."
Loki's expression shifted, becoming solemn, sincere. He placed his right hand over his heart.
"...do hereby pledge to you my undying fidelity."
As he spoke the final word, Loki lowered his head in a deep bow of submission, his body bending forward in apparent surrender.
From his position behind the metal restraints, Thor's eye caught the subtle movement. Loki's left hand, hidden against his side, had produced a dagger. The gleam of the blade was barely visible, but Thor saw it. A cold dread flooded through him. No. No, Loki, don't—
Loki took a deep breath, his head still bowed. Then, in one fluid motion, he lunged forward, his arm sweeping up in a vicious arc aimed directly at Thanos's throat.
But Thanos had seen through the deception.
Before the blade could find its mark, reality itself seemed to freeze. The Space Stone flared brilliant blue, and Loki's entire body locked in place mid-strike, suspended as if time had stopped. His face was twisted with effort, his muscles straining, but he couldn't move even a fraction of an inch. The dagger's point hung motionless, mere inches from Thanos's neck—so close, yet impossibly far.
Thanos looked at the frozen trickster god, his expression one of mockery and disappointment.
"Undying?" he asked, his voice dripping with contempt. "You should choose your words more carefully."
Loki's eyes widened with the realization of his failure. He tried desperately to break free from the Space Stone's hold, his will pushing against the cosmic power, but it was like trying to move a mountain with his bare hands. All he could do was watch as Thanos reached out, grabbed his wrist—the one holding the dagger—and twisted.
The bones in Loki's wrist snapped with an audible crack. His fingers spasmed open involuntarily, and the dagger clattered uselessly to the floor.
"You... will never be... a god," Loki managed to gasp out through gritted teeth, his voice strained but defiant.
Thanos's expression remained unchanged. "Dull creature," he said dismissively. Then his left hand—the one bearing the Infinity Gauntlet—shot forward and wrapped around Loki's throat.
The Space Stone released its hold, but only so that Thanos could lift Loki bodily into the air. The God of Mischief's feet left the ground as Thanos squeezed, his massive hand completely encircling Loki's neck.
Loki's hands immediately went to Thanos's wrist, trying to pry the fingers loose. His legs kicked frantically, searching for purchase that didn't exist. But his strength was nothing compared to the Mad Titan's. His fists beat weakly against Thanos's forearm, accomplishing nothing.
Thanos turned his head, deliberately making eye contact with Thor. He wanted the God of Thunder to see this. To witness this. The smile on Thanos's face was cruel and calculated.
If looks could kill, Thor's gaze would have obliterated Thanos a thousand times over. His eye blazed with such fury, such anguish, that it seemed to burn the very air. But all that rage meant nothing when he was trapped, helpless.
Thanos returned his attention to Loki, studying the trickster's face as the life slowly drained from it. Loki's struggles were weakening, his kicks becoming less frequent, less forceful.
With the last of his strength, barely able to draw breath, Loki forced out his final words. His voice was barely a whisper, but the conviction in it was absolute.
"You... will never... be... a god..."
Thanos tilted his head slightly, a flicker of something—surprise, perhaps—crossing his features. He hadn't expected such defiance from someone he'd viewed as a sniveling coward. This spine, this refusal to beg for mercy even in the face of certain death, was unexpected.
But it changed nothing.
"No resurrections this time," Thanos said coldly.
He tightened his grip.
There was a sickening CRACK as the bones in Loki's neck shattered. The God of Mischief's body went completely limp, his arms falling to his sides, his head lolling at an unnatural angle. His eyes, once so full of clever schemes and mischief, stared blankly at nothing.
Loki, God of Mischief, Prince of Asgard, was dead.
"No... NO!!!" Thor's scream was raw and primal, torn from the very depths of his soul. It was the sound of something breaking, of hope dying, of a heart shattering beyond repair.
In that moment, Thor hated himself more than he'd ever hated anything. His weakness. His inability to protect those he loved. If he'd been stronger—if he'd had Hela's power, if he'd still had Mjolnir, if he'd been anything other than what he was—maybe Loki would still be alive. Maybe Heimdall wouldn't have had to die. Maybe half his people would still be breathing.
But he was weak. And they were dead. And it was his fault.
Thanos, still holding Loki's corpse, walked slowly toward Thor. He stopped directly in front of the bound God of Thunder and, without ceremony, tossed Loki's body to the floor like discarded garbage. It landed with a heavy thud at Thor's feet, bent and broken.
Thanos leaned down slightly, making sure Thor could hear his next words clearly.
"No resurrections this time."
Then he straightened and raised his left hand. The Power Stone embedded in the Infinity Gauntlet began to glow with intense purple light. Thanos clenched his fist, and the stone's energy exploded outward.
Purple energy began to seep through the walls of the Statesman, flowing like liquid light through every corridor, every chamber, every structural support. The ship groaned as the Power Stone's destructive force spread throughout its frame. Metal began to buckle. Support beams started to crack and splinter.
The entire ship was being torn apart from within.
Thanos had promised he wouldn't kill Thor if Loki surrendered the Space Stone. And he was a man of his word—he wouldn't kill Thor directly. But if Thor happened to die when the ship exploded and he was cast into the vacuum of space... well, that wasn't Thanos's doing, was it?
The Mad Titan raised his other hand, the one bearing the Space Stone. Blue energy swirled before him, reality twisting and bending as a portal opened—a doorway to another location in space. Through the shimmering gateway, stars and cosmic dust were visible.
Thanos stepped through without looking back. Ebony Maw followed, then Corvus Glaive, then Proxima Midnight, and finally Black Dwarf. One by one, the Black Order disappeared through the portal.
The gateway collapsed behind them with a flash of blue light, and they were gone.
The moment Thanos left, the telekinetic hold that Ebony Maw had placed on Thor dissipated. The metal bars and debris that had been binding him clattered to the floor, freed from the magical compulsion. Thor could move again.
But freedom meant nothing now.
Thor crawled forward, his body screaming in protest with every movement. Broken ribs ground against each other. Burns from the Power Stone throbbed with agony. But physical pain was nothing compared to what he felt inside.
He dragged himself across the blood-slicked floor toward Loki's body. Part of him—some desperate, irrational part—still couldn't accept it. Loki had "died" before. Multiple times. Illusions. Tricks. Mischief. Surely this was just another one of his brother's elaborate deceptions. Any moment now, Loki would sit up, laugh at Thor for falling for it again, and they'd escape together.
Any moment now.
Thor reached Loki's side and gently took hold of his brother's shoulders. He shook him softly.
"Loki..."
Nothing.
He shook harder.
"Loki, please..."
Still nothing. Loki's head lolled limply, his eyes staring sightlessly upward.
Thor pulled his brother's body toward him, cradling him against his chest. He lowered his head until his forehead rested against Loki's, and the dam inside him finally broke.
A sob tore from Thor's throat, raw and broken. His entire body shook with grief.
He'd lost everything. His hammer, Mjolnir—the weapon that had been his companion for over a thousand years. His father, Odin, who had passed into eternity just days ago. His mother, Frigga, murdered by Malekith. His home, Asgard, consumed by Ragnarok. His people—half of them slaughtered by Thanos, the other half barely escaping with Valkyrie and Korg. Heimdall, the faithful guardian who had watched over them all.
And now Loki. His brother. The one constant throughout his entire life. The one who'd been there since childhood, through every triumph and failure, every joy and sorrow. They'd fought. They'd reconciled. They'd fought again. But through it all, they'd been brothers.
And now he was alone.
Around him, the Statesman continued to tear itself apart. Explosions erupted throughout the ship, fires spreading, atmosphere venting into space. The purple glow of the Power Stone's energy pulsed through every surface, the countdown to total destruction accelerating.
Thor didn't care. Let the ship explode. Let him die here with his brother. What did it matter anymore?
Another explosion, closer this time. The floor beneath him buckled. Emergency lights flickered and died, plunging sections of the ship into darkness.
Thor held Loki tighter, his tears falling onto his brother's cold face.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry..."
From outside the dying ship, if anyone had been there to witness it, they would have seen the Statesman begin to glow with internal purple light. The Power Stone's energy grew brighter and brighter, the ship's hull becoming translucent with the building power.
Then, with a flash of brilliant purple-white light that illuminated the surrounding space like a newborn star, the Statesman exploded.
The ship disintegrated completely, torn into millions of fragments that scattered across the void. Debris spread outward in an expanding sphere, metal and ice and ash mixing together, the remains of Asgard's last refugee vessel becoming nothing more than cosmic dust.
And in the center of that expanding cloud, tumbling through the vacuum of space, were two figures—one already gone, the other clinging to consciousness by the thinnest of threads.
Thor and Loki, brothers to the end, drifting together into the infinite dark.