The sky above New York trembled as the battle stretched into its second wave.
Cull Obsidian, unfazed by Natasha's resistance, swung his war hammer with bone-rattling strength. The ground beneath them cracked from the force of each blow, sending out tremors that made entire sections of the street collapse into subway tunnels below. Natasha darted between the chaos with balletic precision, her batons crackling with electricity as she landed blow after blow on the brute's armored limbs, only to have her strikes glance off with minimal effect.
Steve Rogers leapt in from the side, shield up, blocking a downward strike that would've crushed Natasha in a single hit. The vibranium absorbed the impact, but even Steve staggered under the weight.
"Nat, keep circling him," he shouted over the din. "I'll draw his attention."
"Just try not to get flattened," she replied, flipping over the shattered hood of a car and hurling a baton that zapped Cull's calf. Sparks burst where it struck, and the creature growled in frustration.
High above them, Sam Wilson flew in tight spirals, dipping between falling debris and streaks of crimson energy flung by Ebony Maw. His HUD tracked everything—positions, heat signatures, and the civilians still trapped in nearby buildings. He launched another volley of micro-missiles that exploded just shy of Maw, forcing the alien to redirect his attention from the Sanctum's barrier to Sam.
"Any sign of Tony?" Steve asked over comms.
"Still radio silence," Sam replied. "But that portal Maw opened? I think they went off-world."
Steve's grip tightened on his shield. "Then we finish this here and regroup."
Near the entrance to the Sanctum Sanctorum, Wong held his ground as a massive psychic shockwave cracked the pavement. His flaming whip lashed out, intercepting Maw's projectiles midair. Each incantation he whispered fortified the barrier behind him, holding civilians safely inside. The sanctity of the ancient walls groaned with the weight of the battle.
Then, something shifted.
The temperature dropped. Not like winter—but like an unnatural void, cold in a way that settled in the bones. The very air trembled. Shadows lengthened and danced of their own accord.
Cull Obsidian paused mid-charge, a guttural growl forming in his throat. Ebony Maw's expression twitched—his composure faltered.
Steve noticed it too. A distant vibration, followed by the sensation of being watched by something ancient.
Then the sky split—not like a neat portal, but like a cosmic tear. A jagged wound carved through the atmosphere, leaking shadow and light in equal measure.
Alexander emerged.
The battlefield froze in reverence—or fear. His cloak billowed behind him, layered in living shadow. His boots struck the cracked pavement with slow, deliberate steps. Every motion exuded purpose. His aura extended outward like a pressure wave, commanding silence.
Behind him came his army.
Nortis, the silent executioner, led the front line, his twin cleavers humming with dark energy. Noctis, the piercing sentinel, glided above, spear raised, channeling ambient shadow into sharp streaks. Vasili, the shadowed warlord, brought the second wave—elite phantoms formed in ancient armor, each as silent as death. Rank after rank of disciplined shadows poured into the street like liquid darkness.
Alexander raised a single hand.
With that gesture, the battlefield erupted. His shadow soldiers fanned out, moving with perfect coordination.
Cull Obsidian roared and charged again, but Nortis intercepted him head-on. Their blades clashed in a shower of sparks. Noctis struck from above, embedding his spear into Cull's exposed shoulder before vanishing into mist.
Steve blinked. "That's... him. That's Alexander."
Sam circled down. "He brought a damn army. Where'd he get those guys?"
"Not sure," Steve said. "But we need him."
Natasha, panting from exertion, narrowed her eyes. "Are they... even alive?"
The shadows moved with unnatural silence. Not a word, not a sound—just precision and efficiency.
At the heart of the storm, Alexander rose to meet Ebony Maw midair. Maw summoned spears of glass and concrete, hurling them forward with a thought. Alexander lifted a hand, and the projectiles disintegrated against an invisible shroud of power.
"You are not of this world," Maw hissed. "And yet you interfere."
Alexander's eyes burned. "I don't interfere. I correct."
Dozens of shadows ascended behind him like wings, forming a cyclone that engulfed Maw. The alien screamed in fury, his powers stretching to hold the storm at bay.
Steve regrouped with Wong, Natasha, and Sam on the ground.
"The evac's complete," Wong reported. "Vision is secured. If you're moving to Wakanda—now is the time."
"Not without Stark and Strange," Steve replied. He watched as Alexander single-handedly pushed Maw higher into the sky.
Then Tony's voice crackled over comms. "Cap. We've got a problem. Strange is captured. They're heading into deep space. He's locked in some sort of stasis chamber."
Steve cursed under his breath. "We can't leave him."
Wong looked to Alexander, who now hovered above the battlefield like a dark star.
"He might be your only chance," Wong said quietly.
Steve looked up. "Can he reach them?"
As if hearing the question, Alexander descended slowly, landing in front of Steve and the others. His armor pulsed with shadow. Behind him, his army continued suppressing Cull and Maw's forces.
"They took Strange?" he asked flatly.
"Into space," Steve confirmed. "We don't have a ship."
Alexander nodded once. "Then I'll bring him back."
"Can you get there in time?" Natasha asked.
He turned toward Vasili. "Hold New York. Keep them safe."
Vasili bowed. "We will not fail you."
With that, Alexander opened a rift—a vortex unlike any the Avengers had seen. It didn't shimmer like a portal. It devoured the light around it. A gate forged in ancient shadow, pulsing with impossible depth.
Steve stepped forward. "Wait. One more thing."
Alexander paused.
"Thank you."
For a moment, Alexander said nothing. Then he gave the faintest nod.
And stepped into the darkness.
The rift sealed behind him with a whisper.
To be continued.
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