Marcus stayed on Howard's ship for another hour, talking about small things—Maria's latest hybrid plants, Howard's ongoing experiments with vibranium composites, Fury's increasingly creative paranoia.
But eventually, all visits had to end.
"I should get going," Marcus said, rising from his living-wood chair. "You three have work to do, and I have... well, also work to do. Different kind of work."
Maria stood as well, pulling him into one more hug. "Don't stay away so long this time. We're not getting any younger, even with the serum."
"I'll try," Marcus promised, knowing it was a promise he might not be able to keep. Time moved differently when you traveled between dimensions, and what felt like weeks to him could be years here.
Howard shook his hand firmly. "Take care of yourself out there. And if you run into any interesting physics that contradicts everything we think we know, bring back notes."
"Always do," Marcus said with a grin.
Fury just nodded, but there was respect in that single eye. "Earth's in better shape because of you. Whether you want to admit it or not, you've saved this planet more times than most people will ever know."
"Keep it that way," Marcus said. "The saving part, I mean. Not the secrecy. Though I know that's asking a lot from you."
"Secrecy is my love language," Fury replied deadpan.
Marcus laughed and opened a portal back to the Avengers Compound, stepping through with a final wave.
The compound was much livelier than when he'd left.
The various parallel world visitors had been located and gathered—not imprisoned, but kept together while Strange worked out the logistics of sending them home. The main common area looked like a bizarre family reunion where half the family members were alternate universe versions of each other.
Marcus materialized in the center of the room, and conversation stopped as everyone turned to look at him.
"Don't mind me," he said. "Just passing through."
But Strange was already moving forward, his expression serious but satisfied. "Good timing. We're ready to begin the return process."
He gestured, and golden light spread across the floor, forming intricate patterns that pulsed with temporal energy. "The timeline entanglement has been resolved—mostly. I've managed to separate the various realities enough that stable return portals can be established."
"Mostly?" Tony asked from where he was standing with Dr. Otto.
"The timelines are still messier than I'd like," Strange admitted. "They look like spaghetti that's been stirred but not completely untangled. However, there won't be any new spontaneous crossovers. The bleeding has stopped."
He raised his hands, and portals began forming throughout the room—each one showing a glimpse of a different Earth, a different New York, a different reality.
"It's time," Strange announced to the gathered visitors. "Everyone needs to return to their proper universe. The portals are calibrated to your individual quantum signatures—they'll take you exactly where you belong."
The room filled with the sound of goodbyes.
Dr. Otto approached Tony one last time, the two scientists clasping hands with genuine warmth. "Thank you for the collaboration," Otto said. "The insights you've shared about miniaturization and energy efficiency... they'll revolutionize my work."
"Right back at you," Tony replied. "That artificial sun concept is going to change everything. When I get it working—and I will get it working—I'm naming it the Stark-Otto Fusion Core."
"The Otto-Stark Core has a better ring to it," Otto countered.
"We'll arm wrestle for naming rights later."
Sandman—Flint—was saying goodbye to the Avengers who'd helped him, his sandy form more stable than it had been in years thanks to Marcus' intervention. "Thank you," he kept saying to anyone who'd listen. "Thank you for giving me a chance to be normal again."
"You were always normal," Wanda told him gently. "You just needed help controlling your gift."
Norman Osborn, freed from the Green Goblin's influence, stood with Steve Rogers. "When I get back, I'm going to do better," he said quietly. "Be the man Harry deserves as a father."
"You'll manage," Steve assured him. "You've been given a second chance. Use it well."
But the most emotional farewells were happening between the three Spider-Men.
Peter—the youngest, from this universe—stood with his two older counterparts in a small circle slightly apart from everyone else. The three of them had developed a bond over the past few days that went beyond mere similarity.
They were the same person, worn differently by different experiences. And somehow, that made them closer than brothers.
"I can't believe this is actually goodbye," Peter said, his voice thick with emotion he wasn't trying to hide. "I mean, I just met you guys, but it feels like I've known you forever."
"That's because we're you," Peter Two—the oldest of them—said with a sad smile. "We've lived versions of your life, made similar choices, fought similar battles. Of course it feels familiar."
Peter Three—the middle one—laughed softly. "Though I have to say, meeting you two was the weirdest experience of my life. And I've had some weird experiences."
"Tell me about it," Peter agreed. "I fought alongside myself. That's going to be hard to top."
They stood in silence for a moment, just looking at each other. Seeing past and future reflected in familiar faces. Understanding without words what it meant to be Spider-Man—the burden, the responsibility, the loneliness.
"You're going to do great things," Peter Two said, placing a hand on young Peter's shoulder. "I can see it. You've got the heart for this, the dedication. Don't let the world make you cynical."
"And don't let guilt consume you," Peter Three added quietly. "You're going to lose people. You're going to make mistakes. That's part of the job. But you can't let it destroy who you are."
Young Peter swallowed hard. "How do you deal with it? The losses?"
"You remember why you started," Peter Two said. "You remember that every person you save matters. Every life you protect is a victory, even if you can't save everyone."
"And you let yourself have connections," Peter Three continued. "Don't isolate yourself thinking it keeps people safe. You need support, need friends, need family. That's what keeps you human."
The advice settled over young Peter like a weighted blanket—heavy but comforting.
"I'll remember," he promised. "Both of you... thank you. For everything. For showing me that I'm not alone in this, even when it feels like I am."
"You're never alone," Peter Two said firmly. "Somewhere out there, across infinite realities, there are countless Spider-Men fighting the same fight. We're all connected, all part of something bigger."
"Spider-Men across the multiverse," Peter Three said with a grin. "We should start a club."
"The Spider-Verse," young Peter suggested.
"I like it."
They moved together as one, pulling each other into a tight group hug. Three versions of the same person, different ages and experiences, united by the spider that had changed their lives.
"Brothers," Peter Two said softly.
"Brothers," the other two echoed.
When they pulled apart, there were tears in young Peter's eyes that he didn't bother hiding. His older selves had tears in their eyes too—they understood exactly what this moment meant.
"If you ever need us—" Peter Three started.
"I know," young Peter interrupted. "I know you'd be there if you could. That's enough."
They collected their respective villains—all of them treated, their conditions stabilized or cured entirely. Professor Connors was human again, able to control his transformation. Electro could shift between forms without losing himself. Even the Green Goblin personalities had been separated from their hosts, leaving Norman Osborn and his alternate free.
Each Spider-Man took responsibility for their own world's threats, ready to return them to proper imprisonment or rehabilitation.
"Goodbye," Peter Two said, backing toward his portal with the Green Goblin and Dr. Otto. "Maybe we'll never meet again."
He paused, then smiled. "But probably we will. The multiverse is weird like that."
"Goodbye," Peter Three echoed, guiding Professor Connors and Electro toward a different shimmering gateway. "Take care of yourself, kid. And remember—with great power—"
"Comes great responsibility," all three Spider-Men finished together, then laughed at the synchronization.
One by one, the parallel world visitors stepped through their portals. Dr. Otto gave a final wave to Tony. Sandman smiled at Wanda. Norman Osborn nodded respectfully to Steve.
And the three Spider-Men, after one last look at each other, walked through their respective gateways.
The portals snapped shut, and they were gone.
The room felt emptier without them. Quieter.
"Well," Strange said, lowering his hands as the magical energy dissipated. "That's done. The timeline should stabilize now that everyone's back where they belong."
"It was good while it lasted," Tony murmured, staring at the space where Dr. Otto had disappeared. "Having someone who actually understood the advanced fusion concepts..."
"You'll figure it out," Marcus said, making his presence known.
Everyone turned to look at him again—they'd almost forgotten he was there.
"You handled that well," Marcus observed, addressing the room at large. "The multiverse throws chaos at you, and you turn it into opportunity. Make allies out of threats, learn from your alternates, send everyone home safely."
"We do our best," Steve said simply.
"It shows." Marcus looked at each of them in turn—the Avengers who'd become Earth's primary defense, who'd grown from individual heroes into a genuine team. "You're ready for what's coming. The next crisis, whatever form it takes."
"What is coming?" Natasha asked, because of course she would.
"Everything," Marcus said with a slight smile. "But you'll handle it. You always do."
He started to shimmer, his form becoming translucent as he prepared to leave.
"Wait," Tony called out. He stepped forward and offered Marcus a small object—an elegant brooch designed in the shape of an arc reactor, glowing faintly with blue light.
"If you're leaving again—and I know you are, you never stay long—take this." Tony's expression was uncharacteristically serious. "It's a quantum beacon. Wherever you are, whatever dimension you're in, it'll let me know you're okay. And if you ever need help, if you ever want to come home..." He paused. "We'll be here."
Marcus took the brooch, genuinely touched by the gesture. He pinned it to his chest, where it gleamed against the dark material of his clothing.
"Thank you," he said sincerely. "That means more than you know."
Tony nodded once, gruff and uncomfortable with the emotional moment. "Yeah, well. Don't make me wait another decade to see you again. Age makes people sentimental."
"Oh, so age makes people grow up?" Marcus teased, echoing his earlier comment. "Good to know you're capable of maturation, Tony."
"I'm plenty mature. I just hide it well."
Marcus laughed, then began to dissolve completely—his body converting to pure energy, dissipating into motes of light.
But before he vanished entirely, his voice echoed one final time:
"Wanda. Master your power. You're going to become the backbone of this team."
The statement hung in the air as Marcus disappeared completely, leaving behind shocked silence.
Everyone turned to look at Wanda, who stood frozen in surprise.
"That's..." Bruce started, then trailed off. "That's quite an endorsement."
"Marcus doesn't say things lightly," Natasha observed. "If he thinks Wanda will be that important..."
Strange was watching Wanda with renewed intensity. "I've been researching the source of your abilities. Your power isn't just telekinesis or energy manipulation. It's something far more fundamental."
"What do you mean?" Wanda asked, feeling suddenly self-conscious under everyone's attention.
"Chaos magic," Strange said quietly. "A force that even the Masters of the Mystic Arts cannot control. It's ancient, primal, and according to the texts I've found..." He paused. "It's one of the most powerful forms of magic in existence."
"Then we'll help you master it," Steve said firmly, cutting through the building tension. "Whatever it takes. If Marcus believes in you, then so do we."
Wanda felt warmth spread through her chest at the declaration of support. "Thank you. All of you."
"That's what teams do," Tony said. "We believe in each other. Even when cosmic beings show up to make cryptic prophecies about our future importance."
The moment of gravity broke into light laughter, and the team began to disperse—returning to their individual tasks, processing the events of the past few days.
But Wanda remained still, thinking about Marcus' words.
Backbone of the team.
She had a lot of work to do.
Far from Earth, in a space between spaces where reality bent and twisted, Marcus materialized with a thoughtful expression.
"The information Arishem gave me is useful," he murmured, studying the data flowing through his consciousness. "But I need to know if this will actually work. If I can actually summon Eternity."
He stood in the void, watching a distant tableau play out on a barren planet.
Below him, Gorr the God Butcher moved with terrible purpose.
The god-killer wielded the Necrosword—the All-Black, forged from the darkness at the edge of creation. It gave him power over shadows, the ability to create monsters from darkness itself, and most importantly: the capacity to kill gods.
Which he was doing with disturbing efficiency.
Marcus watched as shadow-creatures swarmed across the planet's surface, hunting down fleeing deities. The gods tried to fight back, but they were outmatched. Gorr had been doing this for years, honing his technique, perfecting his craft.
One by one, the gods fell.
Gorr executed them personally, the Necrosword separating divine heads from divine bodies with mechanical precision. Each death fueled him further, each kill feeding the sword's hunger.
"Almost there," Marcus said quietly.
He could see what Gorr was doing—the pattern emerging from the carnage. The god-killer wasn't just murdering deities for revenge. He was preparing a ritual.
Gorr used the Necrosword as a brush and divine blood as ink, painting vast symbols across the planet's surface. The same symbols Marcus had found in Arishem's memories, the ancient glyphs required to summon one of the five cosmic abstracts.
To summon Eternity itself.
"Should I intervene?" Marcus wondered aloud. "Meet Eternity face to face? Or is that too dangerous?"
He was stronger than he'd ever been. The armor promotions, the Void mastery, the knowledge accumulated across dimensions—all of it had elevated him far beyond normal beings.
But the Five Gods? They existed on a completely different scale.
Eternity, Death, Infinity, Oblivion, and Entropy—the fundamental forces of the universe given consciousness and form. They weren't just powerful beings. They were reality itself, personified and made manifest.
Marcus had fought Celestials and dimensional demons. But the Five Gods?
That was uncharted territory.
"Fuck it," he decided. "I didn't get this far by playing it safe."
He raised his hands, Void energy coiling around his fingers in spirals of black and purple. The power responded to his will, shaping itself into the same symbols Gorr was painting below.
But Marcus did it faster, cleaner, more perfectly.
Where Gorr struggled with divine blood and crude strokes, Marcus wrote in pure energy—each line precise, each curve mathematically perfect.
The summoning circle completed itself in seconds.
Reality shuddered.
The void around Marcus rippled like disturbed water. Space folded in on itself, dimensions compressing and expanding simultaneously. Time became meaningless, all moments existing at once.
And then Marcus was elsewhere.
The planet, the void, the watching Gorr—all of it vanished. Marcus stood instead on a platform surrounded by infinite water, reflecting an infinite sky. The space was impossibly bright, illuminated by no visible source but somehow radiant with pure existence.
Marcus looked up.
A being sat cross-legged in the air above him, humanoid in shape but decidedly not human. Its form was abstract, constantly shifting, showing different aspects depending on how Marcus focused his perception. Sometimes it looked like a human silhouette filled with stars. Sometimes like a being made of crystallized time. Sometimes like nothing Marcus could properly comprehend.
"Eternity," Marcus breathed.
"Hello, my brother."
The voice was everywhere and nowhere, inside Marcus' head and outside it simultaneously. It sounded like every voice Marcus had ever heard speaking in perfect unison.
But it was the words, not the voice, that stopped Marcus cold.
My brother.
"Hello, Eternity," Marcus managed, keeping his voice steady despite his racing thoughts. "This should be the first time we're meeting. Why would you call me brother?"
"It is the first time," Eternity agreed, "and yet we have known each other for countless eons. Will know each other for countless more."
The temporal paradox in that statement made Marcus' head hurt.
"You're speaking in contradictions," Marcus said carefully. "We've never met, but we've known each other for eons?"
"From my perspective, both are equally true." Eternity's form shifted, showing Marcus a glimpse of infinite timelines branching and converging. "I exist at all points in time simultaneously—past, present, future. To me, our first meeting and our thousandth meeting are the same moment."
Marcus felt the weight of that truth. "Then you know my future. You know what I'll become."
"I know what you are, across all time." Eternity seemed to smile, though its face was difficult to read. "Tell me, Void—what is your true name?"
The question felt like a test.
"Marcus," he answered. "My name is Marcus."
"Yes," Eternity said. "And no. Marcus is what you call yourself in this moment, in this incarnation. But your true name, the name that echoes across eternity itself, is simpler."
The being leaned forward slightly. "Void."
The word resonated through Marcus on a level deeper than sound. It wasn't just a name—it was a fundamental designation, like Eternity's own title.
"You're saying I'm like you," Marcus realized. "Not just powerful, but... fundamental. A cosmic abstract."
"You are becoming like me," Eternity corrected gently. "You have not yet reached your full potential. But you will. In time—and I know all time—you will stand beside me and my siblings as an equal."
Marcus felt something crack in his understanding of himself. "The Five Gods will become Six."
"The Five Gods will become the Six Abstracts," Eternity confirmed. "Eternity, Death, Infinity, Oblivion, Entropy... and Void. Six fundamental forces, six aspects of existence."
The revelation should have felt overwhelming. Instead, it felt right. Like a puzzle piece finally clicking into place.
"Can you show me?" Marcus asked. "Show me the power of the Five Gods. I need to understand what I'm reaching for."
Eternity extended one hand.
Reality unfolded.
Marcus saw timelines branch and collapse, dimensions spawn and die, entire universes born and extinguished in the span of heartbeats. He watched as Eternity created and destroyed with equal ease, reshaping existence itself with casual gestures.
Countless realities played out before his eyes—worlds where heroes won, where villains triumphed, where neither existed. Dimensions made of impossible physics, realms of pure thought, spaces where the very concept of space didn't apply.
Everything that was, is, or could be—all of it fell under Eternity's domain.
"This is what I am," Eternity said as the visions continued. "Time given form. Existence made conscious. I am every moment that has ever been or ever will be, experiencing itself simultaneously."
Marcus watched a universe be born—matter condensing from energy, stars igniting, life emerging from chemical soup. Then he watched it die—stars burning out, matter decaying, reality itself unwinding back into the void from which it came.
And Eternity controlled all of it.
"This is what you will become," Eternity continued. "The Void is not absence, Marcus. It is potential. The space between things where new things can emerge. You are the canvas upon which reality is painted."
The demonstration ended, and Marcus found himself back on the water-platform, standing before Eternity with new understanding burning in his mind.
"That's..." He struggled for words. "That's incredible. And terrifying."
"All true power is both," Eternity said with what might have been amusement.
Marcus bowed, a gesture of respect and recognition. "Thank you for showing me this. For giving me a glimpse of what's possible."
"You would have reached it eventually," Eternity said. "I merely accelerated your understanding. Consider it a gift from one brother to another."
"Brother," Marcus repeated, testing the word. It still felt strange, but less impossible than before.
"I will wait for you," Eternity promised. "However long it takes, across however many lifetimes and incarnations, I will wait. And when you finally achieve your full potential, when you ascend to become what you were always meant to be..."
The being's form shifted one final time, showing Marcus a glimpse of six cosmic abstracts standing together as equals.
"...we will welcome you home."
Reality snapped back.
Marcus blinked and found himself back in the void, hovering above the planet where Gorr the God Butcher continued his grim work. Time had barely passed—the whole encounter with Eternity had existed outside normal temporal flow.
"The power of the Five Gods is incredible," Marcus murmured, still processing everything he'd seen. "What I have now isn't even one ten-thousandth of their capability."
But instead of feeling discouraged, he felt energized. He had a goal now, a clear path forward. He knew exactly what he needed to become.
"Time to accelerate my growth," he decided. "Promote more armor, master more dimensions, gather more power."
He tore open a rift in space, creating a portal back to his ship.
The Railjack Dark Aster waited in the dimensional void, its Orokin-forged hull gleaming in the non-light of between-space. Marcus boarded quickly, already planning his next move.
"WILL," he called out. "Find me a world with strong fluctuations. Somewhere with enough instability or power that I can use it for armor promotion."
"Acknowledged," the AI responded. "Scanning multiversal currents for appropriate candidates."
The ship began moving, gliding through the void between realities with practiced ease. Countless worlds rolled past—some vibrant and full of life, others dying or dead, all of them points of light in infinite darkness.
After what might have been minutes or hours (time was flexible in the void), WILL spoke again.
"Suitable world located. Fluctuations indicate significant supernatural activity and dimensional instability."
"Perfect," Marcus said. "Take us in."
The Dark Aster accelerated, and Marcus felt the familiar sensation of dimensional transition as they approached a new reality.
Then the ship broke through the barrier, and Marcus got his first look at the new world.
His expression shifted to surprise, then amusement.
"Well," he said with a slight laugh. "This is familiar territory."
It was the DC universe—the world where he'd trained Bruce Wayne and Diana Prince, where his godson Clark Kent was learning to be Superman.
"I wonder how they're doing," Marcus mused. "It's been a while since I checked in."
The last time he'd been here, he'd departed with General Zod and his Kryptonian followers. That had been years ago from this universe's perspective. Enough time for things to change significantly.
"The fluctuations are strong," WILL reported. "Something major is occurring on the planet's surface."
"Take us down," Marcus ordered. "Let's see what's causing all this energy."
The Dark Aster descended through the atmosphere, its stealth systems activating automatically to avoid detection. They passed through clouds and over cities, following WILL's sensors toward the source of the disturbance.
"Strong energy reaction detected," WILL announced. "Marking location on tactical display."
A holographic map appeared, showing a specific location in Metropolis—Superman's city.
"Of course it's Metropolis," Marcus sighed. "Drama always finds Clark."
The ship positioned itself above the city, and Marcus looked down through the viewport.
Below, he could sense familiar presences. Bruce was there, along with Diana. Barry Allen, the Flash. Other heroes he'd heard about but never met personally.