The battlefield was not a place but a concept. It was the Astral & Mystical Plane, a sprawling, infinite expanse of pure thought and cosmic law. Tony Stark, Loki, and Sylvie stood on a platform of conscious will, suspended in a void that was anything but empty. Around them, the "Cosmic Tapestry" shimmered. It was an infinite, luminescent weave of glowing threads, each one a fundamental constant of their reality—the flow of time, the pull of gravity, the memory of love.
The Eidolon's attack was a physical manifestation of nihilism, visible as black, cancerous threads of non-existence that actively infected and unraveled the tapestry. They watched in horror as entire sections—representing concepts like "the history of ancient Rome" or "the gravitational constant of their solar system"—flickered and dissolved into nothingness. They were purely on the defensive, trying to hold their reality together with the magical equivalent of duct tape and string.
Tony Stark, the Iron Supreme, was in a state of frantic, high-speed creation. His hands, glowing with golden and orange light, moved at an impossible pace, weaving complex mystical "firewalls" into the tapestry. These were shimmering shields of arcane code and quantum mechanics, designed to quarantine the black threads of non-existence and stop them from spreading. It was a desperate game of cosmic whack-a-mole; for every section he patched, two more began to unravel elsewhere. He was the lead architect trying to save his creation from a world-ending virus, but the virus was spreading too fast.
The Eidolon, however, did not just attack the tapestry; it attacked the architect. It launched a devastating assault on his heart, striking at his core motivation: his desperate desire to protect his loved ones. Phantoms coalesced around him, not of villains, but of the family he had and the family he lost. He saw his daughter, Morgan, and his wife, Pepper, from a universe where his sacrifice in the fight against Thanos was not a victory, but an abandonment. "I don't have a daughter and Pepper, we are not that close," Tony tried to counter, his voice echoing in the void. "You used us once to save everyone; now you leave us to pursue power, pursue your own selfish desires, you pursued mystical power, sorcery and abandoned us." the phantom of Morgan whispered, her form flickering as she reached for him. Instead of a loving touch, her hand passed through his chest, leaving a feeling of impossibly cold, soul-deep frost. He was then surrounded by the spectral images of his parents, Howard and Maria Stark, their faces not of pride, but of cold disappointment, whispering about how he was always a merchant of death. A phantom of a young, terrified Peter Parker appeared, covered in dust, whispering, "I don't wanna go, Mr. Stark... why didn't you save me?".
To make this even more brutal and terrifying, the individual phantoms began to merge. They swirled together in a horrifying vortex of light and sound—Morgan's pleading, Pepper's sorrow, his parents' disappointment, and Peter's fear—all twisting and coalescing into a single, monstrous entity. The being that formed before him was a grotesque mockery of his own creation: a suit of Iron Man armor, but made of shimmering, spectral flesh and sorrow. Its Arc Reactor was a gaping, black hole of emptiness, and the faceplate was a fusion of the weeping faces of everyone he loved. It was the physical embodiment of his failure to protect his family. The monstrous armor raised a gauntlet and whispered, its voice a horrific chorus of all the phantoms at once: "You don't build shields, Tony. You build beautiful, gilded cages for the people you love to die in".
Loki and Sylvie worked in perfect, unspoken sync, weaving the grandest illusion of their lives. They were creating a complex "honeypot," a decoy reality designed to mimic a universe ripe with the emotional "flaws" the Eidolon hunts. Their goal was to trick the Eidolon's consciousness into focusing on this decoy, drawing its attention away from their true reality. It was taking all of their combined power and concentration, and they knew it was a temporary measure at best.
The psychic assault on Loki began with two figures manifesting from the astral ether: a triumphant, corrupted King Loki who won his glorious purpose, and his mother, Frigga, her face a mask of sorrow from a reality where he failed to save her. But the attack was more insidious than words. The phantom of King Loki didn't just taunt; he demonstrated his power. He conjured a phantom of Thanos, the Mad Titan who broke our Loki, and backhanded it, dismissing it like a fly. "The Mad Titan?" the phantom sneered. "A stepping stone. I took his Gauntlet and his ambition and made them my own. You groveled at his feet and died like a dog. That is the difference between us". As Loki reeled, the phantom of Frigga attacked not with anger, but with a soul-crushing disappointment. "I taught you magic to give you a light of your own, my son," she whispered, "And this is all you made of it? A flickering candle hiding in the shadow of mortals? You are not a king. You are not a hero. You are just... lost".
The Eidolon then delivered the most brutal blow. The phantom of Frigga turned away from our Loki, her disappointment melting into radiant, maternal pride as she looked at the monstrous King Loki. "This," she said, ignoring our Loki completely, "is the king you were meant to be. Strong. Uncompromising. A true son of Asgard". She then looked back at him, her eyes cold and empty, and said, "Not whatever pathetic, sentimental creature you have become". The King Loki phantom then conjured a shimmering, terrified image of Sylvie. "And this is your grand purpose now?" he mocked. "Chasing an echo of yourself across creation? A narcissist's romance. In my reality, she kneels with all the others. Love is a weakness, little brother. You chose it, and it will be your ruin, just as your weakness for mother was hers".
Sylvie's assault was the most quiet, but perhaps the most devastating. The Eidolon didn't just show her a vision; it immersed her in it. For a torturous moment, she could feel the warmth of the Asgardian sun on her skin, hear the laughter of a loving family, and feel a sense of peace she had never known. She saw herself, a "Princess Sylvie," who was never pruned. This version of her was vibrant and whole, standing with a proud Odin, a warm Frigga, and a laughing Thor. And holding her hand was Loki—not the broken, burdened man she loved, but a version of him that was happy, mischievous, and free.
The "Princess" turned to the real, battle-hardened Sylvie, and her expression was not one of pity, but of cold, terrifying accusation. "This is the reality you were meant to have," the Princess said. "This is the timeline that was sacred. Peaceful. Happy. But anomalies like you, glitches who refuse to be deleted, create ripples. Your entire existence is a paradox that weakens the fabric of reality". As the real Sylvie watched in horror, the beautiful scene began to unravel. The golden halls of Asgard started to fray at the edges, dissolving into black, unraveling threads, just like the Cosmic Tapestry they were trying to protect. The phantom Frigga looked at the real Sylvie, her warm face turning to a mask of terror. "What are you?" she whispered, as her form began to dissolve into dust. "What are you doing to us?". The final, most brutal blow came from the phantom Loki. He watched his perfect world, his perfect Sylvie, disintegrate around him. He turned to the real Sylvie, his face a canvas of betrayal and fear, and reached a hand out to her. "Why?" he pleaded, as the black threads of non-existence consumed him. "Why does your need to survive mean that I never get to exist?". This attack was now infinitely more terrifying. The Eidolon wasn't just showing her the life she lost; it was forcing her to watch herself actively destroy it. It was framing her entire life of survival as a selfish, destructive act that erases the happiness of the very person she loves most, making her believe that her heroism is the ultimate form of villainy.