Pride of the Infinite and the End
Infinity stood at the edge of existence, watching the flow of stars ripple with whispered names.
Phoenix Monarch.
She smiled.
"…They finally understand," she said softly.
Beside her, Death was unusually warm in presence—no cold, no silence, only calm inevitability.
"He did not seek the title," Death said.
"That is why it fits him."
Infinity laughed lightly.
"Our man," she said without hesitation.
"To inspire fear without cruelty, and loyalty without demand."
Death nodded.
"There are few who can reshape fate and still choose restraint."
Her gaze drifted toward Ashborn Dimension.
"…I am proud of him."
Infinity's smile deepened.
Hel — A Queen Decides
In Hel, the news reached its ruler.
Phoenix Monarch.
Hela stood still as the title echoed across realms.
The youngest prince of Asgard.
The man who laughed, teased her, and kissed her forehead.
Now feared by the universe.
She clenched her hand over her chest.
"…Idiot," she muttered softly.
Not in anger.
In affection.
"He never wanted power," she whispered.
"And yet…"
Her resolve hardened.
"No more waiting."
She turned toward the path leading out of Hel.
"When I see him next," Hela said quietly,
"I will tell him everything."
Her lips curved faintly.
"I do not want a throne."
"I want him."
The Cosmic Summit
Beyond realms.
Beyond gods.
A summit convened.
Eternity.
Infinity.
Death.
The Living Tribunal.
Galactus.
Celestial representatives.
Silence ruled the void.
Eternity spoke first.
"The balance has shifted," Eternity said.
"Not broken."
The Living Tribunal nodded.
"Alexander Ashborn Odinson acts with restraint," it judged.
"He preserves order, not dominion."
Galactus folded his arms.
"…He terrifies my kind," Galactus admitted.
"And yet, he has never hunted us."
Death spoke calmly.
"He will not interfere unless forced."
Infinity smiled faintly.
"And that," she said,
"is why he must not be forced."
The verdict was unanimous.
Phoenix Monarch:
Recognized as a stabilizing constant.
Non-hostile.
Not to be provoked.
The cosmos adjusted.
Oblivion's Rage
In the deepest void—
Oblivion screamed.
His plan had worked.
And failed.
War had come.
But Alexander had not broken.
He had grown.
"…Phoenix Monarch," Oblivion snarled.
The shadows churned violently.
"He refuses despair.
Refuses dominion.
Refuses me."
Yet—
Oblivion smiled slowly.
"I lost this round."
"But even fire casts shadows."
His gaze pierced toward the World Tree.
"Sooner or later," Oblivion whispered,
"you will face a choice."
"And I will be waiting."
Quiet Before the Next Flame
Back in Ashborn Dimension—
Alexander sat beneath the World Tree, unaware of confessions being prepared, summits concluded, or shadows raging.
He sipped tea.
"…Peace is nice," he muttered.
The Phoenix within him stirred—not violently, not arrogantly—
But awake.
And the universe held its breath.