The universe was never as simple as it seemed.
If Earth harbored countless hidden mysteries, then the cosmos itself contained enigmas even the oldest entities could not fully comprehend.
Where did the gods truly originate?
Were they born from the fundamental forces of the universe, or shaped by something even greater?
Why did Odin, a ruler among gods, once call their existence pathetic?
Why did Zatanos, an entity bound to the flames of vengeance, sever ties with the gods and view them with hostility?
What lay hidden within the depths of Earth, so much so that divine beings actively prevented civilizations from uncovering its secrets?
And most importantly—what was true hope?
What was hope?
Ragna 's mind swirled with these questions—some answered, some still shrouded in the mist of cosmic history. But he knew one truth: power dictated revelation.
Only those strong enough could uncover the deepest mysteries of the universe. Those who sought them prematurely were destined to be consumed.
Ragna did not dwell on it for now. The battle before him took precedence.
Thanos roared, his voice reverberating through the void, as the orange glow of the Soul Gem intensified in his grasp. He pushed the gem's power to its limits, attempting to impose his will upon the Angels of the Sacred Heavenly Palace—to bend their very souls to his command.
But Thanos had chosen the wrong opponents.
The Reincarnation Pool that linked the Angels' consciousness made them nearly impervious to soul manipulation. Their shared mental network functioned like a vast ocean of willpower, drowning out even the influence of the Soul Gem.
The gem was indeed the most unique among the Infinity Gems, possessing sentience and surpassing its counterparts in soul-based power. However, it remained bound by the same cosmic constraints as the others. It could not exceed the fundamental laws of existence.
The Five Angel Kings, each wielding an Infinity Gem, unleashed their might. Energy surged through space, forming a crushing offensive against Thanos.
Ragna stood back, gripping the Sun Scepter, watching with cold detachment. His forces had the upper hand; there was no need for him to act personally.
Thanos, however, refused to yield.
Blood oozed from the wounds covering his scarred body, dripping onto the rocky terrain of Vormir, yet his resolve remained unbroken.
He had already sacrificed everything.
The losses he endured, the choices he made—they transcended personal suffering. In his mind, he was the universe's salvation. Its sole hope for survival.
But then came Ragna .
Thanos had reached the brink of death, surrounded and overwhelmed. The Angel Kings pressed their assault, determined to end the Titan once and for all.
Yet as Ragna observed, a deep unease settled over him. His grip on the Sun Scepter tightened.
Then—
The fabric of space twisted.
As expected, the Celestials arrived.
There were mysteries in the universe.
There were chains that bound reality.
There was destruction.
And there was hope.
The Celestials were not merely ancient beings. They were the custodians of cosmic balance. The silent executioners of civilizations that overstepped their bounds.
Whenever a civilization reached too high—when it came dangerously close to the universe's forbidden truths—the Celestials would appear.
Whenever a ruling power stagnated—when its dominion led to complacency and the suppression of progress—the Celestials would strike.
They did not tolerate stagnation.
Survival demanded struggle.
Civilizations had to evolve through adversity, through competition. Peace, for all its virtues, bred weakness. A cosmos without conflict was a cosmos in decline.
Thus, the Celestials had one purpose: to preserve the cycle.
They were the gravekeepers of civilizations that dared to challenge the natural order.
But even within their ranks, there were divisions.
Some Celestials still adhered to their original function, blindly enforcing cosmic law. They understood themselves as mere extensions of the universe's will—tools without agency.
Others, however, began to question.
Why did they exist?
Why did the universe demand such cruel balance?
Was there truly meaning in their mission?
Some Celestials withdrew into slumber, unwilling to face the contradictions of their existence. Others sought answers—true answers—separating themselves from the influence of the universal origin that empowered them.
Some went so far as to strip themselves of that power, attempting to forge their own destiny.
It was said that one such Celestial dug out its own head, in an act of ultimate defiance.
The Celestial Host was not a singular, unified force. But those who remained loyal to their mission were the majority.
And now, they had come to Vormir, drawn by the unfolding catastrophe.
The eight Celestials descended.
Their forms loomed like primordial titans, their legs as vast as planetary pillars, their upper bodies shrouded in cosmic mist.
Their heads, obscured by the glow of sixteen burning stars, emitted a crimson radiance that illuminated Vormir.
In their hands, they wielded scepters—taller than mountains, forged from the rarest substances in existence.
The first strike came instantly. The Angel Kings barely evaded the initial assault.
Retreating, Hexi muttered, "They're enormous."
She narrowed her eyes at the towering Celestials. "How do they get that big?"
Ragna shook his head.
"Size doesn't determine power."
Yet the Celestials were an exception. Their sheer scale reflected their terrifying might.
Each of the eight Celestials possessed power nearing the Fourth-Tier Limit, and among them, three radiated energy beyond the threshold of cosmic hierarchy.
Against such an adversary, even the Holy Heavenly Palace stood at a disadvantage.
But Ragna was not alone in his discontent.
Resting the Sun Scepter against his shoulder, he watched as a rainbow light pierced the void.
The Bifrost opened.
From its glow emerged Hela, her Fenris Wolf at her side.
And behind Ragna , another presence arrived. Adam the Magician.
Even with their additions, the balance of power remained precarious.
But this was only the beginning.
A new light flickered.
The Elders of the Universe appeared.
Thirteen Elders stood at the battlefield's edge—Grandmaster, Collector, Astronomer, Gardener, Explorer, Architect, Law Enforcer, and others.
These were the last remnants of once-mighty civilizations.
Empires that had reached their peak—only to be erased by the Celestials.
They were survivors.
Outcasts.
Relics of doomed worlds.
They had nothing left to lose.
They had contacted Ragna long ago, offering a fragile alliance. He could either join them as a reserve Elder, or work alongside them to challenge the Celestial order.
For the Elders, revenge was their only purpose.
Some sought to unravel the universe's deepest mysteries.
Others wished only for the fall of the Celestials.
The Collector had once watched his wife self-destruct.
Their empires were gone.
Their people—extinguished.
They no longer cared for the universe's fate.
Whether Ragna 's actions led to salvation or oblivion meant nothing to them.
With the Elders present, the balance of power shifted.
Ragna was momentarily impressed by their strength, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
The Celestials—were they truly limited to just these eight?
And above it all, the Watchers remained silent.
High above, Uatu and his kind observed.
"Will you not intervene?" one Watcher asked. "This may be our best chance to break free."
Their leader remained still.
"We are the Watchers," he said.
"We observe. Nothing more."
Yet as he gazed into the depths of time, his voice softened.
"Yes, this may be the end of the universe."
"…Or its true redemption."
And thus, the final battle began.
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