The Queen of the Dead arrived at New Asgard with her horde trailing behind her like a tide of rot and despair. Originally, she had intended to turn the Asgardians into her undead soldiers through trickery and deception. But something — a force of shadow — had blocked her arrival for days. Now, seething with rage, she had decided to brute-force her way inside and claim the Asgardians the old-fashioned way.
As she approached, Wanda saw the gates of New Asgard standing wide open. Thinking nothing of it, she strode in confidently, her red eyes burning. But inside she found only silence — the place eerily empty.
Outside the walls, Okoye waited tensely with the horde. Her eyes widened in horror as the gates suddenly slammed shut behind Wanda. The wood and steel darkened, transforming into a deep, unnatural ebony, sealed with shadow magic.
Okoye spat the words like venom. "The boy is here. Abomination, break down the gate!"
Before Abomination could take a step, a figure dropped down from atop the wall. A man in a sharp suit landed gracefully on his feet, dusting himself off with deliberate calm as he strolled toward them.
"I'll only say this once," he said evenly, his voice echoing with unnatural weight. "Give up your souls. They don't belong to you. Enter the afterlife peacefully, and there will be no pain."
Okoye narrowed her eyes. "And if we refuse?"
John's lips curled into a cold smile. "Well… then I'll just have to kill you."
"You shouldn't make jokes in your position," Okoye hissed. "You are only one man, and we are a horde."
She raised her hand in silent command, and the army surged forward like a black tide.
John sighed. "I tried to do this peacefully."
A blinding light engulfed him. When it faded, John was gone. In his place stood a towering figure — a man with long white hair that whipped in the wind, eyes glowing like molten suns. A red hood shadowed his face, and his dark metal armor gleamed in the light and in his right hand he gripped a colossal greatsword carved with screaming skulls and twisted faces, frozen in eternal agony.
Okoye instinctively took a step back, her warrior's composure faltering. "Who—what are you?"
The man's voice rumbled like thunder, calm yet absolute. "I am War. Leader of the Four Horsemen. And all of you… have brought me and my brother forth."
Realization and dread struck Okoye like a spear. "Then the one inside with the Queen is—"
"He is Death," War finished, his gaze unyielding.
Okoye's voice cracked with panic as she barked to her army. "Get to the Queen! Quickly! Kill this man. I don't care if he is a Horseman of the Apocalypse — he can't destroy all of us!"
The horde roared and charged with renewed fury.
War smirked, raising his sword. With one effortless swing, a massive wave of burning energy ripped through the battlefield, mowing down hundreds of undead in seconds.
Arrows rained down from above, bouncing harmlessly off his armor. He clicked his tongue. "That's a bit annoying."
He plucked up a pebble, weighed it in his hand, and flicked it casually. The rock whistled through the air and struck Zombie Hawkeye square in the skull — his head exploded in a grisly shower of gore.
Abomination roared and rushed him, fists swinging with feral rage. The monster's massive blow was caught mid-swing in War's burning gauntlet. With a twist, War bent the arm backward until a sickening snap echoed across the battlefield. Without hesitation, he shoved his blade through Abomination's torso, cleaving him clean in half.
The horde faltered, but War pressed forward, carving through them with unstoppable precision. Minutes passed in a storm of steel and screams until thousands of corpses lay broken and shattered, leaving only a few dozen stragglers.
Zombie Hank, Janet, and Hope shrank into their tiny forms and darted at him, snapping their fanged jaws in desperation. War swatted them aside like flies. Desperate, they grew into giants, their massive forms towering over him. But once again, his blade swung with merciless finality — one strike, three heads severed, and their bodies collapsed like felled trees.
At last, only Okoye remained.
War's voice cut through the silence, cold and final. "I will ask once more. Will you die peacefully?"
Okoye screeched in fury and launched herself at him. But the moment she left the ground, she regretted it. War's gauntlet clamped around her head like an iron vice. With one brutal squeeze, he crushed her skull like a grape.
Her body fell limp, discarded.
War straightened, his voice steady and absolute. "Well… that settles that. Now to wait for Death to finish."
Wanda slowly strolled down the hall, her footsteps echoing against the stone walls. As she moved, the torches lining the corridor flared to life one by one, their flames hissing into existence until the room grew brighter with each step she took.
At last, she reached the throne. But when her eyes fell upon it, her breath caught. Sitting casually on the great seat was not the Asgardian king she had expected, but a boy — no older than ten. His hair was black as midnight, his eyes dark and piercing. He leaned back on the throne with an amused smile.
"I've always wanted to try the whole dramatic villain thing," he said with a playful tone. "It was fun."
Wanda scowled, taken aback. "Who are you, child? And where are the Asgardians?"
The boy chuckled lightly, wagging his finger. "Oooh, someone's got manners. Well, I'm Nico di Angelo… and I provided the Asgardians a way out of this universe."
Wanda's expression hardened. "Fine. I was hoping to do this nicely, but you leave me no choice but to do this the hard way."
Her form rippled. She dropped her disguise, revealing the rotting, horrifying visage of her zombified self. With a shriek, she lunged forward, screaming in Nico's face.
Nico just wrinkled his nose, fanning the air with his hand. "Jeez, lady… you need a mint."
Wanda's eyes blazed with fury. "Do you not fear me?"
A smirk tugged at Nico's lips. "You aren't the only one hiding their true self, little witch."
The shadows at his feet stirred. They rose in tendrils and swallowed him whole. Wanda staggered back as the darkness consumed the boy — and when it receded, her eyes widened in horror.
The child was gone.
Seated upon the throne now was a tall figure clad in ominous dark armor. Long black hair flowed behind him, his face concealed by a white bone skull mask. From its hollow visage, two glowing eyes pierced the air like daggers. In his hands rested a massive, dark scythe, its blade humming with ancient power. On his armored shoulder perched a great black raven, its unblinking gaze fixed upon her.
For the first time in over five years, Wanda felt something alien stir within her chest. Fear.
The figure rose, each step toward her deliberate and heavy with inevitability.
Wanda's voice faltered. "Who… who are you?"
His reply rumbled through the chamber ominously. "I am Death. One of the Four Horsemen. And I have come forth to claim your soul… Wanda Maximoff."
Desperation twisted her face as she flung her arms forward, crimson chaos magic bursting from her hands in violent waves. The energy lashed at Death, searing the air, but to her horror, it had no effect. He did not flinch. He did not slow. He simply walked forward, his shadow stretching long across the hall.
Panic took her. She turned and tried to fly. But as she rose, a wall of living shadow surged into being, cutting off her escape.
And then he was upon her.
Death thrust his armored fist forward, plunging into her very essence. Wanda screamed, her form trembling violently as he seized her soul and wrenched it from her body. Her glowing essence writhed in his grasp before he forced it to pass on, casting it into the afterlife.
Her body crumpled, lifeless, as fire bloomed across her flesh. In moments, all that remained was ash.
Death turned without pause, striding from the throne room. Outside, he met War amidst the carnage. His voice was calm, unyielding. "It's done. Now we begin gathering survivors. If we both ride, it should only take a day or two at most."
War gave a solemn nod.