Thanos was seething with fury over the loss of the Power Stone, yet his face betrayed no reckless impulse. He did not allow rage to blind his judgment.
That Earthling who had dared to seize the gem had demonstrated something remarkable: he could withstand the raw destructive force of the Power Stone with his own body. That was no ordinary feat. Such strength placed the man in an entirely different league of power.
More troubling still, Thanos suspected this same mortal had already acquired both the Space Stone and the Mind Stone. If that were true, then the Earthling might already command three Infinity Stones at once.
Thanos narrowed his eyes. Even for him, there were unknowns too dangerous to ignore. Without intelligence, even he would not act rashly.
This setback did not discourage him. A minor loss mattered little to a warlord who had walked a path paved with the corpses of civilizations, his will hardened through endless slaughter. One gem wrested from his grasp was nothing more than a ripple in the ocean of his conquest.
The task now was clear: uncover the identity, power, and intentions of this Earthling. And if fate allowed, wrest the stones from his hands.
His deep, gravelly voice echoed through the hall as he addressed the dark-robed figure kneeling by his throne.
"Corvus," Thanos commanded, "find this Earthling's trail. Bring me back the Power Stone."
The gaunt figure straightened, his gray skin gleaming in the dim light, the long-bladed glaive in his hand reflecting a cold sheen. He bowed low.
"Yes, my lord."
Corvus Glaive, one of the Black Order's most loyal and ruthless generals, disappeared into the shadows, leaving Thanos to brood, his gaze like an abyss swallowing light.
Far from the Mad Titan's watchful eyes, Rowan remained unaware of the attention now fixed upon him.
Two days later, the vibranium starship piloted by Aurora descended into a quiet, remote system. The planet ahead glowed like an ember in the dark Nidavellir, the legendary forge of the dwarves.
In the captain's quarters, Rowan stirred awake. Wanda lay curled against him, draped in nothing but a silk sheet. Her pale shoulders and delicate arms rested against his chest, her breathing steady, her expression serene. The faint blush lingering on her cheeks revealed the intimacy of the night they had shared.
"Boss," Aurora's calm voice rang through the intercom. "We've reached Nidavellir."
Rowan's eyes flickered with a sharp glint. Carefully, he slipped his arm from beneath Wanda's neck. She let out a soft murmur in her sleep, shifting slightly, but did not wake. With her enhanced senses, she would normally stir at the faintest sound. But exhaustion, paired with the comfort of his presence, had lulled her into deep slumber.
Rowan dressed and stepped into the control deck.
Through the viewport, Nidavellir came into sight: a planet crowned with three massive metallic rings, its molten core blazing with searing heat. The entire construct shimmered with a blend of raw machinery and ancient magic, like a world where cyberpunk met myth.
The starship pierced the core's radiance and descended into the intersection of the rings. Inside, colossal furnaces and intricate metal lattices stretched across the vast structure. Waiting for them, towering figures dwarves, each nearly five or six meters tall surrounded the ship. They carried warhammers and axes forged from enchanted steel, their eyes wary and sharp.
A booming voice echoed across the forge.
"Strangers! Show yourselves and declare your identity!"
The starship hatch hissed open. Rowan stepped onto the metallic ground.
The lead dwarf, a bearded giant with wild hair and a hammer clutched in his massive hand, repeated his demand.
"State your name and purpose."
Rowan's voice was steady as he met their stares.
"I am a friend of Thor. I come from Midgard."
The dwarf leader frowned, scrutinizing him.
"Thor's friend? And how do you prove this claim?"
Rowan knew instantly that words alone would not sway them. These were not beings easily fooled, nor did a vague connection to Thor grant unquestioned trust. Even if they believed him, why should Nidavellir's master smiths aid him merely because he claimed kinship with the God of Thunder?
"I have no need to prove it," Rowan said evenly.
Then, without warning, he raised his hand. A brilliant purple gem materialized in his palm the Power Stone.
Its radiance burst outward like a supernova. A pulse of raw destructive energy swept across the forge, rattling the metallic rings, sending shudders through the heart of the great furnaces.
The dwarves staggered beneath the pressure. Sparks crackled across their weapons, and the air trembled with the gem's fury.
"The Power Stone…"
Eitri, the dwarven king and master smith, froze in shock. His massive eyes widened as he recognized the artifact immediately. As Odin's royal forgemaster, he had studied the Infinity Stones in myth and legend, and he knew well the catastrophic might of the one before him.
But what stunned him even more was the sight of Rowan holding it barehanded no conduit, no container. No mortal should survive such a feat.
"Midgardian, you must restrain its power!" Eitri roared, bracing himself as he shielded his eyes from the violet glare. "Nidavellir is under Asgard's protection. Do not bring ruin here!"
Rowan shook his head slowly.
"Asgard's protection?" His lips curved with cold amusement. "Asgard can barely protect itself."
"Watch your tongue, mortal!" Eitri thundered. "You know nothing of the All-Father's might!"
Rowan let the energy subside, dimming the gem's glow as he stepped closer.
"I know enough," he replied. "And I'm not here to cause destruction. I came to commission a weapon."
"A weapon?" Eitri's expression hardened. "We forge only for Asgard."
Rowan's brow furrowed. He had expected resistance, but the dwarves' loyalty was proving inconvenient.
"Have you heard of Ragnarok?" Rowan asked, his tone calm but edged.
The dwarves stirred uneasily at the word. Eitri's thick brows knitted. "I have heard whispers."
"Then you should also know Odin's time has come to an end," Rowan said bluntly. "The All-Father is dying."
"Impossible!" Eitri bellowed, his voice echoing through the forge. "Blasphemy!"
Rowan's patience waned. These smiths clung too tightly to their allegiance.
He raised the Power Stone again. A beam of violet energy lanced outward, piercing through one of the colossal rings. The structure shuddered violently, molten sparks raining down.
"Enough!" Eitri and the dwarves roared, gripping their weapons in fury. Yet none dared advance. They had heard the legends of the Power Stone, and the evidence lay before their eyes: Rowan wielded it as if it were merely an extension of his will.
"You think Asgard will save you?" Rowan's voice was cold, unforgiving. "Then call for Heimdall. Call him now."
Eitri's heart sank. Still, he lifted his enchanted pendant and hammered the forge floor. "Heimdall!" he bellowed.
The name reverberated across Nidavellir. Seconds stretched. No rainbow bridge descended. No divine response answered his cry.
His face paled. Again, louder this time. "Heimdall!" The word echoed in desperation, yet the silence that followed was suffocating.
Rowan's eyes gleamed with icy certainty.
"I told you. Odin is gone. Loki sits upon Asgard's throne. He has abandoned you."
"Loki…" Eitri's fists clenched, fury and disbelief wrestling within him. "Then Thor will stop him. He will return and cast out the trickster. And you if you truly are Thor's friend you would not exploit Asgard's fall!"
Rowan exhaled sharply, his patience at its end. He no longer sought to reason.
The Power Stone flared once more, its purple light casting long, terrible shadows across the dwarves' faces.
"Listen well, Eitri," Rowan said coldly. "There is no rescue coming. You have a choice: forge the weapon I require, or see Nidavellir reduced to dust."
The pressure of the stone's power bore down on the dwarves. Sweat beaded on their foreheads as the forge trembled beneath the weight of his will.
The silence that followed was broken only by the hum of the Infinity Stone, a reminder of its infinite destruction waiting to be unleashed.
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