The planet Zala was a void. Unlike the other arenas in this cosmic massacre, Zala was cursed with absolute darkness. There was no sun, no stars, only a suffocating, ink-black fog that seemed to swallow sound itself. The ground was composed of razor-sharp obsidian glass that shattered and groaned under every step. It was into this abyss that three heroes were cast: Captain America, Iron Man, and Spider-Man.
They didn't have to search for their enemy. While most others were scattered across their respective worlds, these three landed directly in the path of a nightmare.
Standing atop a jagged spire of black rock was Lycaon, the Ancient Tyrant King. He was a monstrous fusion of man and beast, a giant covered in matted, blood-stained fur with muscles like knotted iron. His eyes weren't just yellow; they were two burning orbs of ancient malice. He had been a king who fed on human flesh, and now, he was a predator looking at his next meal.
"I can't see a thing, Tony! My Spider-Sense is screaming!" Peter Parker yelled, his voice trembling as he crouched on the sharp glass, his suit's lenses widening to capture any speck of light.
"Thermal scans are useless, the air here is freezing, Tony Stark replied. His Mark 85 armor illuminated the immediate area with a haunting blue glow. "Steve, we have a problem. This thing isn't moving... it's waiting.
Lycaon didn't roar. He vanished.
With a speed that defied his massive size, the tyrant king lunged. He hit Captain America's shield with a force that sounded like a cannon blast. Steve Rogers was sent flying backward, his boots carving deep trenches in the obsidian ground. Before Iron Man could lock on, Lycaon was already behind him, his claws raking across the back of the suit, tearing through layers of nanotechnology as if they were paper.
"Tony!" Peter screamed. He swung into the darkness, relying purely on instinct. He landed a heavy kick on Lycaon's jaw, but it felt like hitting a mountain. The king caught Spider-Man's leg mid-air and slammed him into the ground with bone-shattering force. Peter coughed up blood, the metallic taste filling his mouth as his suit's internal systems began to fail.
The fight became a desperate, bloody scramble. Lycaon was a blur of violence, his claws dripping with the blood of heroes. Steve Rogers struggled to his feet, his shoulder dislocated and his face covered in cuts. "We don't win this alone!" he gasped, spitting out blood. Tony, Peter... on my mark.
Iron Man stabilized his thrusters, redirecting all power to his arm cannons. He unleashed a blinding barrage of repulsor fire, not to kill, but to pin the beast down. Spider Man, despite his cracked ribs, leaped through the air, webbing Lycaon's massive arms to the jagged obsidian spires.
The beast roared then, a sound so loud it felt like it would tear the heroes' lungs apart. Lycaon began to rip through the webbing, his golden eyes fixed on Steve. But Steve was already in the air. With a roar of his own, Captain America slammed the edge of his vibranium shield into the beast's throat.
At the same moment, Tony Stark unleashed his chest unibeam at point-blank range. The combined force of the shield's edge and the searing heat of the beam finally did what no single hero could. The king's throat collapsed, and his chest was turned into a scorched crater of flesh and fur.
Lycaon fell. His massive body hit the glass ground with a heavy thud, his blood pooling into the cracks of the obsidian. He died not because he was weak, but because he was outnumbered. Three of the world's greatest icons had to push themselves to the brink of death just to take down one ancient tyrant.
As the echoes of the fight died down, the three heroes stood in the oppressive silence of Zala. They had survived their encounter because they landed right in front of their foe. But a terrifying reality began to settle in. These cosmic arenas were massive, and the participants had been dropped at random locations.
The heroes and the legends were currently wandering across their own planets, miles apart from one another. In the silence of the cosmos, thousands of hunters and thousands of prey were searching the horizons, unaware of where their enemy was hiding. The massacre had begun, but for most, the first strike was still waiting in the distance.