Culwych1

Thanks for thinking of me, but sadly with so much going on at the moment I won't have time to dedicate to this. Will definitely dip in and out though and comment where I can! Next time definitely.

Year: 3922 It was humanity’s greatest achievement, a spaceship unlike anything ever built, vast enough to house an entire city and advanced beyond imagination. They named it the Explorer, a beacon of hope that would carry mankind toward an expansive future among the stars. One hundred thousand civilians boarded, chosen from the best and brightest Earth had to offer, supported by a crew of four thousand dedicated specialists. Farms, laboratories, hospitals and so much more, all meticulously designed to sustain a thriving new civilisation for centuries to come. The Explorer launched amid worldwide celebrations, and humanity's dreams shining brighter than ever. Year: 5012 We had always worried about an apocalypse when a meteor hit the earth. We were wrong. It hit the sun. The sun had always been humanity’s eternal guardian, our protector against the dark. But our guardianship ended abruptly one fateful day, when a meteor of monstrous size hurtled towards the solar heart, striking with a force that defied explanation. The sun dimmed, its golden brilliance fading to a perpetual dusk, cloaking Earth in a sinister twilight. It wasn't the apocalypse we’d read about or feared, but something far more horrifying emerged in the wake of our darkened skies. An ancient terror awakened, the creatures we had long dismissed as myth and legend, whispered only in fearful bedtime stories. The Wamphyri had returned. These vampires had bided their time, hiding in shadows, lurking patiently at the edges of civilisation, waiting for humanity’s weakest moment. And now, beneath the shroud of eternal dusk, they stormed forth, savage and merciless, intent on reclaiming their dominion. Blood ran in rivers as cities fell, one by one. Humanity’s screams became the soundtrack of a new world order. One ruled by fangs and bloodlust. Year: 5279 Earth had long ceased belonging to humanity. The Wamphyri Lords ruled supreme from towering citadels, horrific and gothic spires thrust upward like daggers into the dusky skies, shadows draping the land below. Humanity, broken and hopeless, was relegated to livestock. Human farms sprawled for miles, surrounded by walls slick with blood and patrolled by creatures bred from nightmares. Resistance meant swift and brutal death, the few rebellions crushed with monstrous glee. Humans existed now only to sustain their vampiric overlords. Yet far above Earth’s despair, something lurked in the void, a silent horror drifting inexorably closer. The Explorer had become a tomb drifting through endless darkness. Long ago, during an exploration gone horribly wrong, its crew stumbled upon an ancient, derelict spacecraft. Curiosity turned swiftly to horror as an alien terror, a Xenomorph, took root. Within the Explorer’s darkened halls, a new hive grew, spreading its twisted resin and horrific sculptures of cocoons and death. Tens of thousands of alien eggs waited silently, the ship transformed into a cathedral of terror. Then, inexplicably, the ship’s fractured AI systems forced the Explorer into a new trajectory, turning it back toward Earth, now a planet of eternal night and blood. Year: 5282 From the obsidian towers of New Carpathia, High Lord Drakul gazed upward. The sky above burned fiercely, a blinding streak of red and gold tearing through the perpetual gloom. Mortal astronomers, chained to their instruments, trembled as they whispered prophecies of impending doom. The arrogant Wamphyri Lords scoffed, but the flaming shape became an undeniable, rapidly growing threat. It was something new, something strange, and the vampire for once knew… uncertainty. The Explorer, now an infernal meteor, tore through Earth's atmosphere in a hellish blaze, metal melting and resin vaporising in a deafening roar. It struck central Europe with cataclysmic fury, gouging a massive wound into the vampire-held lands. Smoke, fire, and alien spores erupted from the wreckage, spreading death and chaos. Drakul sent his vampiric scouts to investigate. Their screams filled the psychic airwaves, agony and fear unlike any heard before, silencing even the arrogant Lords. And then they emerged; the Xenomorphs, pouring from the scarred earth like demons escaping Hell itself. Relentless, alien, vicious beyond comprehension. Vampiric knights rushed to the frontlines, immortal blood meeting corrosive acid, monstrous claws clashing with chitinous blades. The battlefield became a landscape of nightmarish brutality, blood pooling thick as armies fell on both sides. War drums sounded from the depths of vampiric citadels. Legions of bloodspawn marched, grotesque monstrosities surging forward to meet the alien tide. Two apex predators faced each other beneath a blackened sun, each determined to rule this new dark Earth or see it consumed utterly. And thus began the war between vampire and Xenomorph, each willing to drown the world in blood and acid to claim final dominion.

Huge congrats my friend! A well deserved win and thanks also to @IKA for the tournament and keeping things fresh.

@ThePhenomenalOne, don't leave me hanging alone bro!

Meant to comment on this but then time forgot, apologies! Agree, this is a good twist on the norm and I would also give this to Goku. Even if he has no prior knowledge of martial arts, he should still have better knowledge of how to train. This is his whole thing, he trains and trains and get better and I don't think Superman has managed to achieve that to Gokus level.

I thought... what could be better than posting 1 battle story in this round... how about 5 battles in 1 story?

Story here: In a city drowning in chaos, Biscuit Oliva isn’t looking for salvation; he’s looking for a good time. Striding into an untouched nightclub, he soaks in the attention, the whispers, the awe. But one man remains unimpressed. Luke Cage. Seated at the bar, arms crossed, unmoved, Luke doesn’t flinch as Oliva makes himself comfortable. Strength recognizes strength, and neither man has anything to prove. Well except, maybe, to each other. Oliva leans in, flashing his cocky grin. “So, what’s it gonna be?” Luke sets his drink down. No hesitation. No theatrics. Just a simple, unshakable truth. “If you’re lookin’ for a fight… you just found one.” And so, the strongest in Harlem meets the man who calls himself "the strongest in the world." Only one title will stand. An apology - I ran out of Rumbles I was able to post so had to post this as a Match instead.

The Collision of Fists Chapter 1: The Experiment Meet Larry. Larry will be dead in 7 minutes, 33 seconds. He doesn’t realise this right now, because he is busy playing Street Fighter on a handheld device and ignoring the beeping on the monitor in front of him. To be fair, it’s not entirely Larry’s fault. Some of the blame is on the S.H.I.E.L.D. scientists who are tinkering with reality in another room, and another finger can easily be pointed at Doctor Strange and Wong, who are once again meddling with forces beyond their comprehension in the Sanctum Sanctorum. But a lot of it is definitely Larry’s fault. He should have been looking at his monitor, not his game. His thumbs mashed the buttons furiously. His pixelated fighter dodged, countered, and unleashed a flawless combo against his opponent. "Ha! Perfect parry! You’re done for!" Larry grinned, leaning forward in concentration. His eyes were locked onto the tiny screen, completely missing the dimensional breach warnings flashing on the monitor in front of him. Behind him, the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier rumbled ever so slightly. It was subtle, just a faint tremor in the deck, like the ship had inhaled sharply. He ignored it. The other S.H.I.E.L.D. technicians, however, were losing their collective minds. "I need a status report!" Maria Hill barked from the command deck. "Massive energy spike detected! It’s… oh hell, it’s accelerating!" a technician stammered. "This isn’t just an anomaly, it’s a full-blown breach!" "A breach to what?" "We don’t know! The readings don’t make sense! It’s pulling in… something. But it’s not random." "What do you mean?" The technician swallowed. "The energy signature. It’s locking onto something. And it’s dragging something through..." 2000 feet below the Hellicarier Meanwhile, at the Sanctum Sanctorum, Wong stood beside a circular portal of crackling energy, his face contorted in sheer exasperation. "Strange, I told you this was a terrible idea! Looking for fighters across dimensions? This isn’t how scouting works!" Doctor Strange, hovering mid-air, arms raised in a controlled stance, grimaced. "It’s not supposed to do this! The spell was meant to detect combat essence and map potential fighters for… future opportunities. This is for your not-so-secret underground fight tournaments," Strange deadpanned. Wong sighed. "We’ve been over this. It is a competitive format of sport." Strange folded his arms. "Tell that to the people who lost teeth in the last ‘exercise.’" "They signed waivers." And then it happened. The Helicarrier’s engines roared, struggling against the sudden gravitational shift. The experimental device at the heart of their anomaly detection experiments overloaded, unleashing a shockwave of energy. At the exact same moment, Strange’s portal flickered wildly. The two forces collided. The Helicarrier lurched violently, its sheer bulk twisting as reality buckled beneath it. Larry, oblivious to all of this, finally landed the final blow in his game. He punched the air in triumph. "LET’S GOOOOOO! WHO’S THE CHAMPION?!" Then the rift exploded. The Helicarrier’s engines stalled completely, its massive form tilting uncontrollably. Larry barely had time to scream before he was yanked backward, his body stretching impossibly between dimensions. His game console, now frozen on the victory screen, tumbled through the air. The Helicarrier plummeted straight toward the Sanctum Sanctorum. Reality shattered. The moment of impact was apocalyptic. A collision of steel and stone sent shockwaves through the city, shattering windows across several blocks. The Sanctum Sanctorum, once a fortress of mystical energy, buckled and collapsed, its protective wards overwhelmed by the sheer force of impact. Magic and technology detonated in unison, sending torrents of arcane fire and electromagnetic surges spiralling into the night sky. The streets below were consumed in chaos. Buildings trembled as the ground itself seemed to fracture, the pulse of energy rippling outward like a stone thrown into an already turbulent sea. Civilians ran, screaming, as debris rained down in fiery arcs. Cars were upended, lampposts twisted like molten wire. Sirens blared, but the emergency response was immediately drowned out by the thunderous explosion that erupted from the epicentre of the crash. Doctor Strange, caught mid-incantation, was swallowed by the void, vanishing into the unknown. Wong, left alone amidst the destruction, stumbled to his feet, shaking his head in disbelief. The wreckage of the Helicarrier, now half-submerged in the ruins of the Sanctum, sent burning debris cascading through the sky. S.H.I.E.L.D. forces scrambled for control, Maria Hill barking orders over the radio, but it was clear there was no control anymore. And then, amidst the chaos, the first figure emerged. ------------------------------------------ Chapter 2: The Strongest Smoke and arcane fire blanketed the ruins of the Sanctum Sanctorum. Fragments of shattered masonry floated mid-air, caught in the flickering remains of unstable magic. Reality was fractured, its edges blurred like a dream teetering on the verge of collapse. In the centre of it all, standing amidst the carnage, was Yujiro Hanma. He took a deep breath, flexing his fingers, feeling the air. Different, yet the same. A world unlike his own, yet familiar in the way that only battle could be. His lips curled into a smile. This place reeked of strength. As Yujiro surveyed the ruins, Wong staggered forward, still recovering from the energy shockwave that had torn through the Sanctum. His robes were tattered, and his expression was one of disbelief as he locked eyes with the massive figure before him. "Who...what are you?" Wong demanded, raising a hand to summon his magic. Yujiro barely acknowledged him. With impossible speed, his hand shot out. Before Wong could even react, a brutal backhand struck him square in the face, sending him hurtling across the ruined courtyard. His body crumpled, unconscious before he even hit the ground. Shang-Chi, who had arrived moments earlier, narrowed his eyes. Yujiro cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders, amused by how effortlessly he had dismissed Wong. But Shang-Chi hadn't flinched. He hadn't even reacted beyond watching. That intrigued Yujiro. The young martial artist’s posture remained fluid yet firm, his presence unwavering, unshaken by the sheer monstrous aura that Yujiro exuded. ------------------------------------------ Nearby, Baki Hanma coughed as he emerged from a cloud of debris, his bare feet crunching against broken stone. The air here was charged with an unfamiliar energy, something unnatural yet exhilarating. He had felt the pull just before he was swallowed by the void, a gravitational force that had yanked him through existence itself. Now, as he stood amongst the ruins of the fallen Helicarrier, his eyes locked onto a figure in the distance. The Helicarrier groaned under its own weight, metal shrieking, flames licking at its broken hull. Then, from the wreckage, a figure stood, rising with measured calm. A man, broad-shouldered, draped in the colours of his flag, shield raised in reflexive caution. Captain America. Baki’s lips curled. He could tell this man was strong, not just in his body but in his will. That kind of strength intrigued him. There was no hesitation in the way Captain America stood, his posture solid, unwavering. It was a stance that spoke of a man who had faced impossible odds and refused to fall. The boy genius of battle could already feel it, the inevitable clash between them, the pull of warriors who needed no words. He rolled his shoulders, feeling his muscles warm, his grin widening. "You’re not from here, are you?" Captain America’s voice cut through the crackling embers around them. Baki only laughed, stretching his neck from side to side and adopting a fighting stance. "Neither are you, in a way. Let’s find out which of us belongs more." “I’m Steve Rogers. There is no need for us to fight.” “I think there is Steve Rogers” replied Baki, feeling the thrill of battle and competition filling his every cell. [[You can vote on Baki vs Captain America here]] ------------------------------------------ From the rubble, Pickle clawed his way into this world like a beast escaping extinction for a second time. His enormous frame cast a monstrous silhouette against the fires licking the ruins. His lungs expanded as he took his first breath of this new world. It was alien, yet familiar, rich with the scent of sweat, steel, and the distinct tang of prey. Then came the noise. Gunfire. A storm of bullets clattered against his thick skin, tickling more than harming. Pickle turned his head, his small, predatory eyes locking onto the tiny creatures that had dared to attack. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, their faces pale with horror, watched as their bullets failed to even irritate him. Pickle moved. A swipe, far too fast for his size, tore through the first agent, sending him hurtling through the wreckage with his guts pouring out of this stomach. Another lunged with a baton, but Pickle’s arm shot out, catching him mid-air. A sickening crunch followed, his body going limp. The others hesitated, too late to react as Pickle pounced, his massive hands closing around another’s skull. Maria Hill raised her weapon, her heart pounding. She knew it was useless, but she had no choice. Pickle lunged like an animal towards her grabbing her by the shirt and lifting her effortlessly. He looked her up and down, and Maria saw a lust in his eyes that terrified her. But then Pickle froze. His nostrils flared. He smelled something…something else. A new scent. Different from the small, weak creatures he had been tearing through. A scent that promised war and battle. Pickle slowly released his grip, letting Maria collapse onto the ground. His head snapped to the east, toward Central Park. The scent of another predator lingered there, one whose blood roared like his own. Without hesitation, he ran. Maria Hill, still catching her breath, lowered her gun, stunned that she was still alive. The world blurred past Pickle as he sprinted, his bare feet tearing into the asphalt, leaving deep cracks in his wake. Streetlights flickered, cars were overturned, and civilians cowered at the sight of the monstrous caveman barrelling through the streets with inhuman speed. His heartbeat quickened. The scent was strong now. It called to him, a mixture of sweat, blood, and something primal. He could taste it in the air; a challenge! His massive frame burst through the tree line as he entered Central Park, skidding to a halt. A low growl rumbled through the trees, and Pickle’s head snapped toward it. A shadow shifted in the brush, moving with a predator’s grace. A towering figure, his hulking form covered in tattered clothing, his golden eyes gleaming in the dim light. His teeth were sharp, his fingers tipped with claws, and his presence oozed a savage, animalistic menace. Sabretooth! For a long moment, the two predators simply stared at each other, neither making the first move. The tension between them was thick, almost suffocating. Pickle’s lips curled back in a toothy grin, his muscles twitching, the excitement of battle igniting in his veins. This creature before him; he wasn’t prey. He was competition. Sabretooth chuckled, cracking his neck. "Well now... ain’t this somethin’?" His voice was low, amused, his razor-sharp teeth flashing in the dim light. "Didn’t think I’d be meetin’ another big ugly in the park. Pickle didn’t understand the words, but he understood the intent. His blood roared in excitement, and he roared at his opponent. Sabretooth grinned and roared back. With that, the two charged at each other, their feet pounding the ground. [[You can vote on Pickle vs Sabretooth here]] ------------------------------------------ Further off, Kaoru Hanayama was already airborne. The force of the explosion had launched him clear through the air, sending his massive frame hurtling toward a skyscraper. The world blurred around him until his back met reinforced glass, shattering it on impact as he crashed through the upper floors of a lavish penthouse. For a brief moment, everything was silent. Hanayama stood, dusting shards of glass from his suit as if nothing had happened. The people inside the penthouse, a gathering of well-dressed businessmen, stared at him dumbfounded. Their drinks were still in their hands, their mouths still open in conversation, as if their brains hadn’t yet caught up to the mountain of muscle that had just crashed into their lives. A man in an expensive suit took a hesitant step forward. "You…you can’t be here!" Hanayama ignored him. Something about this place felt familiar. The luxury, the wealth, the weight of power that hung in the air. He had spent his life surrounded by men like these. But beneath all of it, beneath the opulence and deception, was something real. Crime. Pure, unfiltered power. Then the doors slid open. A pair of guards stepped forward. They were trained, disciplined, but against him they may as well have been infants. The first man lunged, drawing a knife. Hanayama’s hand shot out, catching his wrist in an iron grip. He squeezed. The sound of bones shattering echoed through the room. The second man hesitated but was too slow. Hanayama’s free fist drove into his chest with the force of a wrecking ball, sending him sprawling across the room. Then Hanayama turned, and there he was. A man even larger than himself, dressed in white, his presence an immovable force. Wilson Fisk. The Kingpin. No words were exchanged. None were needed. Hanayama’s fingers flexed, veins bulging as his massive hands curled into fists. Fisk smiled. They understood each other perfectly. [[You can vote on Hanayama vs Kingpin here]] ------------------------------------------ Having left the devastation, Biscuit Oliva walked through the chaos like a man on vacation. Where others scrambled for safety, where soldiers and civilians alike cowered from the devastation, Oliva simply strolled, hands tucked casually into his pockets, humming a tune as if the burning city around him was nothing more than a scenic backdrop. The sheer absurdity of his presence in such destruction only made it more unsettling. The world was collapsing, and yet, Oliva walked like a king admiring his own kingdom. His path led him into the heart of the city, where the neon glow of a lavish nightclub still flickered defiantly against the destruction. The music inside had dulled to a murmur, the patrons frozen in place, watching as the towering slab of muscle pushed open the door and stepped inside. A hush fell over the room. Even in a club filled with wealthy, dangerous individuals, Oliva was something else entirely. He took a slow look around, absorbing the atmosphere, the dim lighting bouncing off his massive frame. The women gawked, the men whispered. Some recognised him for what he was; a walking mountain of power. Others simply felt it, instinctually. A bartender, unsure whether to pour him a drink or run for his life, hesitated behind the counter. Oliva smirked and ran a hand through his hair. "Ahhh, now this is my kind of place." He cracked his neck, already basking in the attention. "Luxury, fine company... and me, the strongest man in the world." One man, however, did not look impressed. Luke Cage. Seated at the bar, arms crossed, his expression unmoved, he didn’t bother to turn when Oliva walked in. He simply took a slow sip of his drink and set the glass down, his fingers tightening around it slightly. Oliva grinned. He could feel it. That unshakable presence. The kind of presence he rarely encountered. He strutted across the room and dropped into a chair without invitation, flashing his signature cocky smile. "You’re the first person I’ve seen in this city who isn’t trembling right now. Guess that means you know how to handle yourself." Luke exhaled slowly, still not looking at him. "I ain’t got time for theatrics. You here to talk, or you here to throw hands?" Oliva chuckled. "I like that." He leaned forward, tapping the bar with a single massive finger, the counter creaking slightly under the pressure. "What if I said both?" Finally, Luke Cage turned. His eyes met Oliva’s, and for the first time that night, the entire club felt the tension shift. Two immovable forces. Two men confident in their strength and power. Oliva’s grin widened. "Well now," he chuckled, rolling his shoulders. "Looks like I found the VIP section." Luke Cage exhaled through his nose, then stood, rolling his sleeves up. "If you’re lookin’ for a fight, buddy... you just found one." [[You can vote on Biscuit Oliva vs Luke Cage here]] ------------------------------------------ Back in the Helicarrier Yujiro grinned at Shang Chi, his monstrous aura pressing outward, the weight of his power crushing the air between them. "Good," he said, cracking his knuckles. "You’re still here. That means you might actually be worth my time." Shang-Chi exhaled slowly, slipping into a stance as fluid as water, his every muscle coiled in anticipation. No wasted movement. No hesitation. They studied each other, two apex predators assessing the battlefield, feeling the pull of inevitable conflict. And then, around a shattered New York, the fights began.

Story here: The shattered glass settles. Kaoru Hanayama rises, dusting himself off, unimpressed by the lavish penthouse he has just crashed into. He has known men like this. Men who believe power is measured in money, in influence. But real power isn’t whispered in boardrooms or sealed in deals. Real power is silent, immovable, unshaken. From the shadows of his domain, Wilson Fisk steps forward, his presence just as vast, just as heavy as Hanayama’s. Neither man speaks. They simply measure each other. The King of Crime vs. the Unbreakable Yakuza. Between them, two unconscious guards lay crumpled on the floor. Fisk smirks. Hanayama rolls up his sleeves. The world outside may be falling apart, but inside this office, power will be decided by fists alone.

Story here: A prehistoric predator, lost in time, rampages through the streets of New York. Pickle knows only the language of strength and insitnct, the survival of the fittest. When he smells the scent of another hunter, something ancient in him awakens. He has only just learned what a city is, doesn’t know what mutants are. But he does know prey from predator. In the darkened expanse of Central Park, Sabretooth emerges, all fangs and malice, grinning at the sight of something as wild as himself. No need for introductions; they are two apex predators, born to battle. The park is their hunting ground, the city their jungle. There will be no hesitation, no tricks, only raw, violent combat. The first move is instinctual. The fight begins.

Story here: Amidst the wreckage of the fallen Helicarrier, two warriors stand at the edge of a battlefield neither of them expected. Baki Hanma, the prodigy of combat, eyes his opponent with eager anticipation and Captain America, a man forged through war and discipline. Their philosophies could not be more different: one hones his strength through endless battle, the other fights for duty, for purpose. But here, none of that matters. Only power matters. As the flames crackle around them, their eyes lock. Baki grins, stretching his muscles, while Cap steadies his shield. There is no hesitation, no need for words. Only the unspoken understanding between two men who refuse to back down. The first step forward is the only signal needed. The fight is about to begin.

Thanks for that, and for being a great contender. Looking forward to whatever you write next.

Short setup from me, but may be something I can make a long arc and include both rumbles and matches.

--------------------------------------- Owen Deathstalker's Log: Entry 001 Designation: The Last Deathstalker Classification: Reality-Walker Sector: Boundary 729 - Unstable Convergence Zone --------------------------------------- I was once a man. A scholar, then a rebel, and always a warrior. The last of the great Deathstalkers, caught in the endless power games of empires and gods. I fought through the worst nightmares the universe could throw at me, standing against mad tyrants, psychics, and horrors from space that defied reason. I died and was reborn, shedding my humanity like an old cloak. Now, I am something more. Something beyond time, beyond space. I walk between realities, slipping through dimensions like pages in a book. I see all, and I remember everything. And now, I witness the end of two worlds. An incursion is happening. Two great universes collapsing into one another, forced into an existence that cannot hold them both. And with this melding and rendering comes a war; this is a war of legends, of gods and monsters, of heroes and nightmares. It is the kind of conflict that shapes the fate of everything. I stand at the crossroads between dimensions, untouched by the chaos, watching as two titanic realities tear at each other like rabid beasts. On one side: the home to the so-called Marvels. Super-soldiers, gods of thunder, armoured geniuses, and cosmic entities that wield the fundamental forces of creation. They are power incarnate, but power is nothing without will. And they have will in abundance. On the other: the domain of the DC, with beings who defy logic, who move planets with their fists and bend time with their presence. They are myths made real, symbols that have endured beyond lifetimes, warriors who will not break. The fabric of reality is screaming. Cities merge and distort. Gotham’s endless darkness swallowing Hell’s Kitchen, the ruins of Metropolis cast in the eerie glow of Wakanda’s great dome. Time fractures. Space folds in on itself. The universe cannot decide which world should remain, and so it demands an answer the only way it knows how. Through battle. It is a familiar dilemma for me. I faced my Emperess and her fleets, and then the madness of the maze, and though I wished for peace, war was the only solution. I am here to watch. I am here to remember. I have been many things; a rebel, a warrior, a legend, and something far more, but for now I am the silent witness to the war that will decide the fate of these two great realms. It is beginning. I see them now stepping forward from the madness, the first combatants. Their eyes meet across the shattered battlefield, filled with the knowledge that their battle is not for pride, not for revenge, but for survival itself. One universe must fall. The first blows are about to be struck… Welcome to MARVEL VS DC! BATTLE 1: GODS & CONCEPTS The Incursion starts by affecting the very fabric of the cosmos and reality. This is no ordinary battle. This is not men against men, nor even gods against gods. This is the building block of creation itself at war. The Marvel Cosmic Beings move first. Eternity, the living embodiment of time; Infinity, limitless expansion given form; Celestials come forth whilst ever weighing the balance of existence. Death stands silent, while Galactus looms, an eternal hunger ready to consume. Opposing them, the Endless, forces beyond creation itself. Dream watches, cloaked in starlit night. Death smiles, kind yet inevitable. Destiny turns a page, already knowing what comes next. Desire and Despair weave their unseen influence, while Delirium shifts between madness and brilliance. And Destruction, who once walked away, steps forward once more. They do not fight with fists or weapons, but with truths, with the nature of what is and what must be. If the Endless fall, Marvel’s cosmic order becomes law. If the Marvel gods falter, then existence will remember. some things are beyond control. Now, on the edge of infinity, they stand. The first ripple spreads, reality trembling as inevitabilities collide. The battle is about to begin. And I do not know if anything will survive it.

Haha, no! Definitely not - although I now see how that could read! Very kind words, and right back at you. This has been a fantastic journey and some amazing entries. Good luck to you both as well!

Same on both counts. Really great idea for an arc

Hope it all works itself out!

I thought after wiping it out in my last match that it was only polite to have it as a safe zone this time 😁 Thanks! I do like to try a different format as often as I can, and this one just lent itself to this style.