Thunder crackled through the violet-tinged clouds of Mortis as Thor wrenched himself free from the Son's grasp. Mjolnir sang through the air, a missile of enchanted uru metal wrapped in lightning. The impact caught the Son square in the chest, hurling the transformed creature backward in an explosion of dark energy.
Thor spun his hammer, letting momentum carry him into a hover. His eyes narrowed, studying the bat-like silhouette against the storm clouds he'd summoned. "Come now, boy," he called out, his voice carrying the weight of centuries. "Surely you can do better than that?"
Lightning arced from the sky to his outstretched hand, branching across his armor in a web of pure power. The display was calculated—part intimidation, part invitation.
The Son's answer came as a shriek that split the air. His maw opened in what might have been a smile, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth. Then he was moving, a shadow given terrible purpose, closing the distance between them with impossible speed.
Thor met him head-on.
They collided in a maelstrom of darkness and lightning. Each impact sent shockwaves rippling through the clouds, turning the sky into a battlefield of competing forces. The Son lashed out with tendrils of shadow that sought to bind and drain. Thor answered with Mjolnir, each swing precise despite its devastating power, and with lightning that sought to burn away the darkness.
Neither gave ground. The Son's divine power manifested as corruption, seeking to unmake. Thor's strength was elemental, primal—thunder made flesh. They tore through the sky, trading blows that would have shattered mountains, so focused on their duel that neither noticed their descent.
The ground rushed up to meet them.
They struck the earth hard enough to crater it. Dust billowed outward in a choking cloud, shot through with veins of electricity as Thor's lightning illuminated their impromptu arena. Through the settling debris, both warriors rose, already gathering power for the next exchange.
Then Thor heard it—the distinct hum of lightsabers clashing, punctuated by the sharp crack of Force powers unleashed.
His gaze snapped to the cliff's edge. Below, in a natural amphitheater of stone, Anakin Skywalker fought with desperate intensity. His opponent moved with a fluidity that spoke of decades—perhaps centuries—of mastery, keeping the Chosen One constantly on the defensive.
"Who is that?" Thor demanded, Mjolnir still crackling with residual energy.
The Son circled him, his bat-like form radiating smug satisfaction. "Someone I invited," he said, the words emerging distorted through his monstrous jaw. "It took considerable effort to arrange. Let us hope the investment proves... worthwhile."
Thor's expression darkened. "Why?" The single word carried the weight of judgment. "Why do this?"
"You!" The Son's shriek held equal parts fury and accusation. "This is your fault!" His massive wings beat once, stirring the dust between them. "I had the Chosen One within my grasp. He would have come to me willingly, given time. But you and your friends complicated everything. Now I'm forced to take risks—actions that will surely draw Arishem's attention."
The name meant nothing to Thor, but the intent was clear enough. His jaw tightened. "You would truly risk the Inquisitor's wrath?"
"I would risk anything for freedom!" The Son's voice rose to a fever pitch. "I will not remain caged here, balanced on this knife's edge for all eternity!"
"And you wish to rule the galaxy in the process, yes?" Thor shifted his stance, Mjolnir beginning to rotate in lazy circles. "Did you truly think I would stand idle while you pursued such madness?"
The Son's laugh was a horrible, scraping sound. "If you were the true Father, perhaps your words would give me pause. But you?" His power flared, dark energy crackling along his transformed body. "You're merely a visitor. An obstacle."
"Have you forgotten the taste of my hammer so quickly?" Lightning began to coil around Thor's arm, drawn by his rising anger. "I would be happy to remind you."
The wind picked up, responding to the building storm. Thunder rumbled in the distance—or perhaps that was simply Mjolnir's song as Thor spun it faster.
The Son's eyes blazed with unholy light. His divine power surged, causing the very air to vibrate with a sound like breaking glass.
They circled each other beneath Mortis's alien sky, two gods preparing for war.
Then they moved as one.
The collision was cataclysmic. Lightning and shadow detonated outward in a sphere of raw force. Shockwaves rolled across the landscape. Thunderclouds formed spontaneously overhead, drawn by the violence of their clash. The entire realm of Mortis trembled.
"Whoa," Ahsoka breathed, staring at the light show painting the distant horizon. "That's... that's incredible."
Peter Parker's enhanced senses screamed warnings in the back of his skull. He frowned, rubbing the base of his neck. "Yeah, incredible. And incredibly dangerous." His spider-sense had been a constant low-level buzz since arriving on Mortis, but now it spiked with renewed urgency. "I think their fight might be a bigger problem than we realized."
"Shouldn't someone stop them?" Vision's synthesized voice cut through the moment, calm and logical as ever.
"Yes." The word came from behind them, measured and weary. "Someone should."
The group turned to find the Father approaching, his daughter at his side. Both Force wielders moved with the weight of ancient knowledge, their expressions grave.
"Their battle must end," the Father continued, his voice firm despite the exhaustion in his eyes. "Before it draws the attention of the Supreme God. If that occurs—"
"Oh, come on!" Peter threw his hands up. "More cryptic warnings? Really?" He pointed at the Father with both hands. "Is now really the time for vague mystical pronouncements, old man? Because I gotta tell you, my patience for this stuff is running pretty thin."
Obi-Wan stepped forward, stroking his beard. "What have you done?" The question was gentle but pointed.
The Daughter answered for her father. "He did what he believed was necessary." She met each of their gazes in turn. "Now we all must face the consequences of that choice."
"The consequences are trapping us here," T'Challa said, his tone sharp as Vibranium. He moved with the controlled grace of a predator, every word precise. "We have responsibilities beyond this realm. Duties to our own people. We must leave."
The Father's expression softened with something like regret. "If only it were that simple." He gazed toward the distant battle, where lightning still split the sky. "I have been attempting to discern what binds you to Mortis. The answer, I believe, lies with my son."
Silence fell over the group.
"How is that possible?" Vision asked, his head tilting in an almost human gesture of confusion.
The Father closed his eyes. The Force rippled outward from him, a wave of perception that stretched toward the dueling gods. His eyes snapped open, wide with shock. "Is he mad?"
Peter felt his spider-sense spike. "Okay, that reaction? Really not comforting. What did he do?"
"Forbidden power." The Father's voice shook. "He's drawing on cosmic forces meant only to maintain the balance at the Maw. He's truly lost himself to this madness."
"The Maw?" Ahsoka's montrals twitched with confusion. "What is that? Where is it?"
"The outer edge of the galaxy," the Daughter supplied. Her luminous eyes found Peter's. "It's why you're trapped here."
Peter blinked. Then he rolled his eyes behind his mask, a gesture wasted on everyone except those who knew him well enough to read his body language. "Right. Okay. Great." He clapped his hands together. "So what's the plan? Because standing around talking about it doesn't seem super productive."
T'Challa was already moving. "We assist Thor and Anakin. The Son is fully engaged with them—he may not notice our approach." He gestured to Vision and Obi-Wan. "With me. We move now."
"Wait, what about us?" Peter pointed to himself and Ahsoka.
Obi-Wan glanced back at the ship behind them. "Secure the ship. The repairs are nearly complete, are they not?"
"Yeah, but—" Ahsoka's lekku twitched with worry. "What if the Son breaks off and comes straight for us?"
"I will remain with you," the Daughter said. She stepped between them and the distant battle, her presence somehow both gentle and implacable. "My brother is powerful, but the three of us together will be more than sufficient to hold him."
Peter turned to the Father. "And you, old man? What's your part in all this?"
The Father's gaze was distant, haunted. "I must ensure the Inquisitor does not become aware of what transpires here." He paused, and something like fear flickered across his ancient features. "If he has not discovered it already."