Chapter 26
The volcano stirred with life the following day, its heart echoing with the steady rhythm of hammer against anvil. Sparks danced in the heat as Vulkan bent his will to iron, each strike ringing like thunder through the molten halls. His forge breathed, alive with flame and molten light.
Not far from him, Clint grunted in exertion, sweat mixing with ash as he strained against chains that bound heavy stones to his body. Each stone radiated heat, carefully calibrated by Vulkan so that endurance was tested but not destroyed. Clint's breaths came ragged, his arms trembling as he forced back the bow Vulkan had given him. It wasn't a bow—it was a siege weapon disguised as one, its string demanding strength that made his shoulders scream with pain. Every pull was like dragging a mountain back with his bare hands.
He cursed under his breath, teeth gritted. "You've got to be kidding me… who the hell shoots with this?" The sound of the bowstring creaking against his efforts cut into the air, followed by the dull twang as his arrow clattered far from its mark. Still, he reset and tried again, because stopping wasn't an option here.
Natasha's training ground was quieter, though no less brutal. In a sealed chamber, the heat pressed down like a living weight. Natasha sat stripped bare of armor, sweat rolling freely down her scarred skin. A whip rested in her hands, its strikes already etched across her back and arms. With every lash, blood welled. With every lash, her teeth clenched against the rising tide of pain.
Vulkan had seen her with eyes far deeper than mortal ones. Her body looked strong, perfect to the casual glance—but he had seen the fractures in her spirit. She carried sorrow like a hidden brand, a quiet suffering behind every perfected motion. So, he had given her training not for her flesh, but for her mind: to break her obsession with perfection, to forge will from ruin.
He modeled it after the Black Templars, the Sororitas—those who found strength in devotion beyond themselves. But here lay his mistake. Natasha had no god, no Emperor, no cause to give her heart to. She had only her pain, and pain is not always enough.
Hours passed. Her breath grew shallow, her body weakened. Each strike of the whip tore more than flesh—it stripped at her sanity, her endurance. She collapsed to the ground, blood smearing the stone beneath her. She was at the brink of death.
And then—her mind slipped, falling into the Warp.
Within that shifting sea of unreality, Natasha found herself standing amidst fire. A colossal figure loomed, wreathed in living flame, dragons coiled around his form. His presence burned, not to consume, but to shelter. A god of fire and protection, carved into her soul by the sheer weight of belief.
It was Vulkan—no, a vision of him, born of the Warp's reflection. She saw not a man, but divinity. And her broken heart, her fractured spirit, clung to it. Belief was forged.
When she awoke, she was no longer trembling. Her will was like iron, her gaze unyielding. Blood still dripped from her body, yet she sat upright, whip in hand, eyes hard with resolve. Where she had once endured out of discipline, now she endured out of devotion.
Unknowing, Vulkan sensed her through the stone walls. He had felt her faltering, nearly slipping into death—but then, unexpectedly, she rose stronger. A quiet relief escaped him, a rare sigh as he continued to shape metal on the anvil.
The forge thundered. Clint's strained grunts echoed. Natasha's whip cracked. And the child, Kevin, still slept in one of the deep chambers, watched over whenever Vulkan paused his work. The volcano became a living heartbeat of struggle, training, and fire.
---
High above the world, in another life entirely, Tony cut through the morning sky. His armor gleamed, newly repaired, the roar of its thrusters filling his ears. Yesterday's meeting still weighed on him, but there was no time to dwell. Jarvis's voice hummed in his ear, calm but insistent.
"Sir, I am detecting a disturbance in New York. The military appears to be engaging a… large green entity."
Tony's brow furrowed behind the visor. "Green entity? You mean my old pal, the jolly green giant?"
"The signature matches, sir. It appears to be the Hulk."
Tony cursed under his breath, banking hard as he diverted course. "Of course it's him. Always when I'm trying to get some sleep."
The city sprawled beneath him, unaware of the storm about to hit. Tony exhaled, focusing as Jarvis highlighted the chaos ahead. Whatever was happening, it wasn't going to be simple.
And with that, he accelerated toward the battle.
---