The battlefield in orbit was a raging symphony of cosmic power. The Earth's atmosphere, protected by a shimmering quarantine bubble of non-existence, screamed under the continuous assault of three gods. Thor, now a true god of thunder, was the storm himself. Lightning, thicker and more brilliant than any earthly storm, continuously arced from his body, slamming into the bubble with world-shaking force. Carol Danvers, Starheart, was a being of pure light, a blazing star in the void. She bent the laws of gravity to intensify her energy blasts, each one a supernova of concentrated neutron star energy that hammered against the Eidolon's barrier. Bruce Banner, Gamma Spectrum, was in a deep, focused trance, the ten Mythic Rings hovering around his massive green hands. He had achieved a perfect, silent symphony with the rings, their individual colors—rage, hope, fear, willpower, love, greed, compassion, death, life, sloth—humming in a beautiful, terrifying harmony. He was preparing to unleash the full, combined potential of the emotional spectrum, a single, decisive attack designed to shatter the very fabric of the quarantine.
Just as the ten colors on the rings began to merge into a single, blindingly brilliant beam of light, a force far more insidious than any energy blast slammed into them. The Eidolon, sensing their combined might, had decided to fight not with power, but with pain.
The first to fall was Bruce. A phantom of Natasha glided toward him, and her voice—a chilling, hollowed-out version of the one he loves—reverberated not through his ears, but directly into his mind. "I'm not a ghost, Bruce," she says, her form flickering with the raw energy of a shattered timeline. "I'm an echo. A memory from a world that you broke". She projects a vision directly into his consciousness, a memory of a terrible moment from a universe that didn't survive. He is forced to relive it from a third-person perspective: a panicked battle, a loss of control, and the Hulk—his own monster, but with none of his restraint—lashing out. He watches, a silent, helpless observer as the Hulk's massive hand, a blur of green fury, smashes her against a wall. The sound of her bones breaking, her final, choked gasp, and the sight of her lying lifeless in his arms—it's a vision of a death that was not heroic or sacrificial, but meaningless and brutal, caused by the very monster he has been fighting to control for years. The rings on Bruce's fingers, which he has painstakingly brought into "perfect harmony," begin to flicker and glow with discordant light as a tidal wave of grief, horror, and unimaginable guilt slams into him. The phantom Natasha watches his torment, a cold, empty smile on her lips. "This is what you are, Bruce," she says, her voice devoid of the empathy she once offered him. "You're a monster who kills the very thing he loves. You don't have control. You only have a delusion of it". The unified beam of light on his fingers shatters, breaking into ten chaotic, wild beams that fly off into the void, losing all focus and intent.
Carol, too, was under assault. As she fights on the edge of the quarantine bubble, phantoms manifest from the cosmic ether. The first is a projection of her father, a figure filled with cold, withering disappointment, telling her she was never "good enough," a memory that haunted her even in her coma. The second phantom is her deceased brother, a ghostly figure silently blaming her for his death, a direct assault on the "grief and gnawing self-doubt" that she has always tried to hide beneath her confidence. These initial phantoms then merge into a third, far more terrifying form: a corrupted version of herself. This entity is the "Starheart Anomaly," a version of Carol from a timeline where her "grief" became the "fuel for an uncontrollable power." It embodies her deepest fear, a Carol who never learned to control her emotions and became a planetary destroyer. She shows the real Carol visions of the planets she has destroyed in other realities and mocks her, telling her that the Eidolon's peace is what she truly craves and that her "control" is a lie. The psychic assault makes her falter, and her magnificent, focused energy blasts become erratic, scattering uselessly across the cosmic battlefield.
For Thor, the Eidolon begins by manifesting a ghostly version of Asgard, but it is a decaying, muted shadow of its former glory. A phantom of his father, Odin, appears before him, his face etched with disappointment. He echoes the words of his sister, Hela, telling Thor that "you are unworthy of the power you wield so carelessly." This strikes at the core of Thor's identity, making him doubt his new-found worthiness. Next, a sorrowful phantom of his mother, Frigga, appears. Her face is a mirror of the disappointment she held for his past arrogance. She blames him, not for a specific action, but for the very nature of his pride that led to his exile, telling him that his character flaw caused the "diminishment of Asgard." The Eidolon then brings forth a tormented phantom of his sister, Hela, who was wounded by a "dark, cursed blade" in their reality. In this psychic assault, she is not his benevolent sister but a figure of accusation. She tells him that her wound and the subsequent invasion of Asgard by "creatures of fire and shadow" were not accidents but a direct consequence of his selfish choices and his absence on Midgard, telling him that her fate and the suffering of their people were his fault. As the phantoms taunt him, the entire illusory Asgard begins to collapse into a void. Thor is torn apart, both mentally and psychically, as he is forced to watch his family and his home turn to dust, believing he is the sole cause of its destruction. The collapsing reality is a reflection of his mental state, leaving him on the brink of a complete breakdown. The powerful, continuous lightning strikes he had been unleashing now falter and dissipate, his godlike will fractured by the psychic torment.
On the edge of the solar system, three of the most powerful beings in the multiverse were broken. The combined assault on the quarantine bubble, which had been so close to succeeding, was now completely undone. The Eidolon's barrier, no longer under attack, solidified and pulsed with a cold, triumphant light. The war was lost, not with a roar, but with a silent, internal scream.