Around Jupiter, more than a million warships clashed in a brutal contest for survival. Energy beams lanced across vacuum like divine spears. Explosions bloomed soundlessly, bright as newborn stars.
Near Ganymede, the largest of Jupiter's moons, the fighting was especially savage.
Ganymede wasn't just rock and ice—it was fuel.
With its vast reserves of water ice, any fleet that controlled it could rapidly replenish energy stores. In high-intensity combat, shield arrays and main cannons devoured power. A frigate that absorbed a few hundred hits could be drained dry. Hide behind a moon. Absorb water. Convert. Recharge. Rejoin.
That was the rhythm of modern space war.
At this moment, over fifty thousand ships from the Alliance of Gods dominated Ganymede's orbit, hammering Thanos's forces relentlessly.
Thirty thousand of Thanos's ships appeared to falter.
They retreated.
They were pursued.
Then—
They turned.
From behind Jupiter's shadow, a new fleet surged forward.
And at its spearhead flew Hela.
She rode her blade like a dark comet. Her black-green combat armor clung like living shadow, her antlered helm flaring outward in cruel elegance. Majestic. Terrifying.
Upon receiving Thanos's order, she did not hesitate.
Her hand lifted.
Black swords materialized—dozens, then hundreds—each forged from necrotic energy.
With a casual flick of her wrist, they launched.
They pierced shields as if they were mist.
One warship ruptured.
Then ten.
Then hundreds.
Clusters of fire blossomed across Ganymede's orbit. Defensive formations shattered under the assault. A Celestial-class being entering fleet combat was not reinforcement—it was extinction.
Within minutes, the Alliance fleet collapsed into chaotic retreat, abandoning the moon in disarray.
—
On the flagship of Zeus, rage boiled over.
"That damn Hela!" Zeus thundered. "Asgard falls and she sides with that purple brute? Has she no standards?!"
No one dared respond.
The Olympians knew better than to challenge a furious Zeus.
After pacing, fists clenched, he exhaled sharply.
"We retreat."
Relief flickered across the chamber.
They were battered, not broken—but prolonged losses would weaken Zeus's standing within the Alliance. Political capital mattered as much as military power.
Then Zeus's eyes gleamed.
"But before we go… we leave a gift."
His smile turned cold.
The Alliance of Gods had endured for millions of years. Not by pride alone.
From deep within the flagship's armory, ten massive objects were prepared—each a kilometer wide, cloaked like drifting meteorites.
The Skull of Typhon.
Forged from the remains of Typhon, the Storm Titan—child of Gaia, wielder of a hundred dragon heads, fire-eyed and winged. After Zeus defeated the ancient Titans, he fashioned the skulls into one-time cataclysmic weapons.
Each head detonated with the force of a Heavenly Father-tier blast.
Ten were released.
They drifted silently toward contested space.
—
Inside Temple Number Two, the tactical projection updated.
Jupiter's moons returned to Thanos's control one by one.
The Alliance fleet withdrew in disciplined retreat.
Beside him, Reed's heart sank.
Every attempt to subtly mislead Thanos had backfired. His "retreat suggestion" had prevented an ambush. His silence had coincided with reinforcement timing.
At this point, he half-expected to recommend lunch and accidentally invent a superweapon.
He decided: no more advice.
Ever.
Thanos observed the battlefield calmly.
The enemy was retreating.
Victory, tactically speaking.
He glanced sideways at Reed.
"Do we pursue?"
Reed stared at the projection of fleeing Olympian vessels.
Part of him wanted them to escape.
Part of him feared what chasing them might provoke.
Before he could answer—
Deep Blue's voice cut in.
"Warning. Multiple large-mass objects detected. Trajectory suggests collision course with forward fleet. Classification: unknown. Velocity: increasing."
On the projection, ten meteor-like signatures entered the field.
They looked harmless.
Almost accidental.
Thanos's eyes narrowed.
Retreating gods rarely gave gifts.
The war was not over yet.
Reed stayed quiet.
Earth would need the Alliance of Gods someday. If Thanos won completely, there would be no future to bargain for. But after his earlier "helpful" suggestion had nearly strengthened the Titan's position, he didn't dare speak too quickly again.
Every word felt like a loaded weapon.
Across from him, Thanos noticed the silence and misunderstood it entirely.
"Is it truly so difficult a decision?" Thanos said calmly. "If we do not inflict real damage on the Allied Gods now, they will simply return."
His voice was steady, analytical.
"If Doctor Strange allies with them in the future, obtaining the remaining Time Stones will become… troublesome."
He was about to issue the pursuit order.
Reed's heart jumped.
"No," he said quickly. "If we chase them now, how can we be certain the Alliance of Gods doesn't have another contingency prepared?"
His tone was firm, controlled.
Inside, however, his thoughts were racing.
We cannot let Thanos close the distance. If this fleet survives intact, Earth's last bargaining chip disappears.
Alliance of Gods… this is as far as I can go.
He lifted his chin slightly, forcing resolve into his expression. There could be no hint of guilt. If Thanos sensed even a trace of manipulation, everything would collapse.
Thanos rested his right hand against his chin and studied the hovering sandbox projection again. Fleet vectors. Resource allocation. Energy reserves.
After a long pause, he nodded slowly.
"Indeed. We have already achieved strategic advantage. There is no need to pursue recklessly."
He straightened.
"The Reality Stone is the priority."
With that, he ordered the fleet to halt pursuit and maintain position.
In his calculations, the Infinity Stones outweighed all temporary skirmishes.
Reed exhaled very quietly.
For once… the sabotage had worked.
—
Meanwhile, light-years away, the forces of the Alliance of Gods continued their calculated retreat.
After some time, Zeus realized something was wrong.
They were not being pursued.
At all.
Frustration crept across his face.
Typhon's Skull—the disguised ambush mechanism—had strict limitations. If it remained inactive too long, the false stone shell would automatically detach, revealing its true form.
And if that happened…
They would effectively be handing ten divine-grade artifacts to Thanos for free.
The Skull of Typhon was one of the Alliance's most tightly guarded weapons. If Thanos analyzed it, not only would the gods lose a valuable tactical advantage, but he might even reverse-engineer it.
The thought alone made Zeus uneasy.
Beside him, a goddess spoke sharply, unable to hide her irritation.
"Whoever is advising them is extremely cautious. We retreated convincingly. Why didn't they bite?"
She frowned.
"The Black Order are notorious warmongers. They would never hesitate like this. Has Thanos found a new strategist?"
Zeus shook his head, equally perplexed.
"I don't know. But whoever it is… they saw through both of our plans."
Reluctance flickered in his eyes, followed by reluctant admiration.
Twice in a row.
After a moment's consideration, Zeus made a decision.
"Dispatch a retrieval unit. A small force. Recover the ten Typhon Skulls."
They were too valuable to abandon.
And if Thanos had truly grown cautious, he likely wouldn't bother intercepting a minor detachment.
Confident in that assumption, Zeus authorized a hundred-ship squadron to peel away from the main fleet.
The small force broke formation and accelerated toward the abandoned ambush zone, engines flaring brightly as they sped through the void.
They did not realize—
Caution cuts both ways.
.....
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