BOOM!
CRACKLE!
Thor, God of Thunder, raised Mjölnir high above his head. Lightning arced across the sky as thunder clouds materialized around him, spreading outward in an ever-expanding dome of electrical energy. Behind him stretched a sea of living lightning—an ocean of pure Asgardian storm power that radiated divine authority.
In this moment, Thor was both demonstrating his might and creating a protective barrier. Even in its embryonic state, even while still sleeping, the Celestial emanated a cosmic pressure so overwhelming that it felt as though the entire realm bent beneath its unconscious will. The primordial being's presence alone created a subtle but persistent gravitational force that threatened to crush any visitor deemed unworthy.
Thor countered this with his own godly domain—the Thunder God's sphere of influence where he, not the slumbering Celestial, dictated the rules of reality.
He felt a surge of ancestral power as his Asgardian bloodline fully activated. The divine essence passed down from Odin himself coursed through his veins, allowing him to temporarily expand his domain against the cosmic giant's passive influence.
Yet even with his powers at their peak, Thor couldn't help but stare in awe at the being suspended before them. Its body stretched beyond comprehension, so vast that it was impossible to perceive its entirety from any single vantage point.
Thor had encountered, battled, and defeated countless giants throughout the Nine Realms. He had stood toe-to-toe with the mightiest creatures Asgard's mythology had to offer. But the entity before him defied conventional categorization. To call it a "giant" would be woefully inadequate—an insult to its true cosmic significance.
This was a Celestial—a being born with entire planets as its nourishment, a entity so fundamentally powerful that its kind had shaped the very laws of the universe.
Its head alone dwarfed the largest cities on Earth. New York and Washington D.C. combined would be but a speck upon its cosmic brow.
With a determined expression, Thor propelled himself forward, the sea of thunder trailing behind him as he flew toward what he sensed was the center of this strange space. No need for guidance—any being with the slightest sensitivity could feel the increasing pressure that indicated the core of the Celestial's power.
WHOOSH!
CRACKLE!
Thunder energy continued to burst around him as he streaked forward like a living bolt of lightning, his red cape streaming behind him.
But he hadn't traveled far when—
The space around him began to ripple and distort, like raindrops striking the surface of a still lake. Before Thor could react, reality shifted. In the span of a heartbeat, he found himself in a different position relative to the Celestial embryo.
He was still within the same cosmic realm, but his perspective had changed drastically. If before he had been approaching the equivalent of the Celestial's thigh, now he hovered near what appeared to be its enormous palm.
Floating high above the strange landscape, Thor could clearly make out five mountain-sized fingers stretching before him.
"The space here is... peculiar," he muttered, adjusting his grip on Mjölnir.
Undeterred, he continued forward. After flying just a short distance, another spatial shift occurred. Now he found himself near the Celestial's massive chest, considerably closer to what he sensed was their ultimate destination.
This seemed promising—these spatial distortions appeared to be accelerating his journey rather than impeding it. Yet something about this felt wrong to Thor. It was as if unseen hands were guiding—or perhaps herding—them toward a predetermined conclusion.
The thought troubled him briefly, but Thor's confidence in his own power allowed him to push aside these concerns. After all, he was the God of Thunder, son of Odin, protector of Asgard and Earth. Whatever challenges awaited, he would face them head-on.
________________________________________
Meanwhile, at the core of the Celestial embryo—within what appeared to be analogous to its brain—sorcerers and other visitors from Earth continued to arrive through the shifting spatial distortions.
Two distinct groups had formed upon arrival. The first consisted of the Masters of Kamar-Taj led by Lockhart, alongside wizards from various magical dimensions. The second group included Asgardian warriors led by Thor and, surprisingly, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents equipped with advanced technological armor.
Nick Fury's organization had deliberately held back during the initial confrontation in London, conserving resources and observing from a distance. But when the pathway to the Celestial opened, they couldn't resist the opportunity. Even a small sample of Celestial tissue or technology could revolutionize Earth's defensive capabilities—an advantage too significant to ignore in their perpetual quest for planetary security.
The S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had quickly discovered, however, that collecting samples was far more difficult than anticipated. The Celestial's body, despite being in an embryonic state, proved impervious to their most advanced cutting tools. And whenever they attempted to deploy heavier equipment capable of penetrating the cosmic flesh, the space around them would instantaneously shift, transporting them to a new location before any meaningful damage could be inflicted.
It seemed the Celestial possessed automatic defense mechanisms that activated even in its dormant state—spatial displacement triggered by any threat to its physical integrity.
Lockhart now stood at what appeared to be the pinnacle of the Celestial embryo's head, positioned precisely between its enormous eyebrows. From the opposite side, Thor continued to generate his thunder domain, creating a protective bubble that shielded his allies—particularly the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who struggled under the crushing cosmic pressure.
The mortal agents, despite their technological enhancements, remained fundamentally human. Their suits and energy shields could mitigate some of the ambient force, but at this proximity to the Celestial's core, they would be crushed without Thor's divine intervention.
Lockhart's group fared better. The sorcerers had arranged themselves in strategic formations, combining their magical energies to create collective shields against the Celestial's passive influence.
"Lockhart," Thor called across the vast expanse separating them, his voice carrying a note of sardonic amusement. "It seems we may have underestimated our task. Even in embryonic form, this being's scale defies imagination. How do you propose we proceed against something of such magnitude?"
Indeed, their initial assumption—that a godly embryo would be vulnerable to their combined might—had proven dangerously naive. The Celestial's sheer size presented a logistical challenge, while its automatic spatial defense mechanisms thwarted conventional attacks before they could inflict significant damage.
Lockhart did not respond to Thor's question. His expression remained impassive as he gazed down at the colossal head beneath them. From their elevated position, they could observe the Celestial's complete visage—that of a young being wearing what appeared to be a crown of pure jade.
The crown emanated powerful energy fluctuations, suggesting it was more than mere decoration. It seemed to be a companion artifact, perhaps serving a protective function for the developing cosmic entity.
Lockhart, however, paid little attention to the crown. His focus remained fixed on the expanse of the Celestial's forehead—specifically the area between its eyebrows. Even this "small" feature on the cosmic being's face was massive—equivalent in size to a professional basketball arena at minimum.
Thor, noticing Lockhart's concentrated gaze, followed his line of sight. The Asgardian's smile faded as realization dawned on him.
"Clever bastard," Thor muttered under his breath.
Lockhart had identified an alternative approach. Rather than attempting to destroy the Celestial's vast physical form—a nearly impossible task given its defensive capabilities—he intended to target its consciousness directly.
The body might be essentially invulnerable, but what of the mind? If they could destroy or subvert the Celestial's soul, its physical form would become irrelevant.
Of course, this strategy carried its own substantial challenges. The Celestial embryo had been gestating on Earth for at least a hundred thousand years—possibly millions. Even the most primitive consciousness, given such an immense timespan to develop, would have evolved extraordinary mental defenses and capabilities.
As if reading Thor's thoughts, Lockhart made his move.
BOOM!
CRACKLE!
Without warning, Thor's sea of thunder surged forward, engulfing the Celestial's massive forehead in a blinding storm of divine lightning. The God of Thunder had intuited Lockhart's plan and decided to launch the first strike—whether in cooperation or competition remained unclear.
The electrical tempest illuminated the cosmic realm with blue-white brilliance as it descended upon the slumbering giant's brow. The attack wasn't aimed at physical destruction but rather at disrupting the energy patterns that might constitute the Celestial's nascent consciousness.
Lockhart's eyes narrowed as he observed Thor's preemptive strike. The sorcerers around him tensed, awaiting his command—would they coordinate with the Asgardian assault or pursue their own strategy?
The fate of two worlds—perhaps the entire universe—hung in the balance as they confronted this sleeping cosmic power. And the true nature of their gambit was only beginning to unfold.