GUARDIAN OF THE MARVEL REALM

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Thor watched grimly as Shen He hurled Loki into the crumbling remains of the castle, his jaw clenched in silent judgment. Everything unfolding—the chaos, the destruction—was ultimately rooted in Loki's reckless ambition.

Raising his gaze to the fractured sky above New York, where rifts split the atmosphere wide open and unleashed waves of alien invaders, he finally spoke with grim purpose. "I will stop them."

He lifted Mjolnir, thunder beginning to coil around the head of the hammer, but Shen He reached out and grasped his forearm with quiet determination.

"You can't do it alone," she said, her eyes locked on the carnage unfolding above. "Can Asgardians even fight in space?"

"We possess the strength to survive without oxygen," Thor replied, lifting Mjolnir once more. "But prolonged combat in the vacuum of space is another matter entirely—we are not shaped for it."

Though Asgard's influence stretched across the Nine Realms and its warriors had long been worshipped as gods, their martial dominance had always rested more upon divine energy and physical prowess than interstellar strategy. Their ships, while capable of traversing space, were built more for symbolic grandeur than tactical warfare, and they relied on the Bifröst for instantaneous travel—rendering traditional space combat nearly obsolete in their doctrine.

Shen He nodded, her eyes darkening ever so slightly as she recalled what Stark's data from the Rainbow Bridge node had revealed: the Asgardian military had never adapted to deep space warfare because they never needed to. The Bifröst allowed them to avoid orbital sieges, gravity complications, and vacuum exposure entirely.

Above, the temporal rift twisted with a sound like metal groaning beneath centuries of pressure, and through it surged the lead beast—an immense Jörmungandr-class mechanical dragon that tore through the clouds with monstrous grace.

Across the world, those watching via Jarvis's live broadcast gasped in collective dread.

"That's not just some warbeast," an officer whispered, leaning closer to the display inside the command center. "That's their carrier."

The feed zoomed in. Hordes of alien soldiers leapt from the dragon's armored spine, dropping like flaming comets into New York's avenues, their impact craters carving deep scars into the street. Before the defense lines could react, the creatures were already ripping through the police formations.

To enhanced heroes and Avengers, these creatures were little more than cannon fodder. But for civilians, ground troops, and even elite SWAT teams—those not forged for this scale of war—they were nothing short of death incarnate.

Circling above Midtown, the mechanical dragon let loose a guttural roar that echoed like thunder across the skyline, its massive frame blotting out the sun and plunging sections of the city into premature nightfall as the first fires took root in Manhattan's core.

Inside the SHIELD war room, Fury remained composed, his voice clipped and focused. "ETA on our response units?"

He understood something others often forgot—wars were not always won with firepower. Sometimes, composure was the most decisive weapon. And if Manhattan fell—if the heart of New York fell—then the entire perception of this war would shift irreversibly.

"The military will take over now," General Thaddeus Ross announced as he strode into the command center, voice sharp and heavy with authority. He glanced at Fury with unspoken challenge. "World Security Council authorization. All non-essential personnel are to vacate."

Fury didn't flinch. His eyes didn't even twitch. "I assume that means Chaldea's intel is no longer required either?"

Ross's jaw tightened and nostrils flared in a barely restrained reaction, but after a tense breath, he bit back his initial response and turned instead to bark orders at the officers on station.

"How long until the Air Force gets here?"

"Twelve minutes for the first wing, General. Ground deployment's still over ninety minutes out—we're working on the last stages of Manhattan's evacuation."

Ross cut the reply short with a gesture, then turned to the orbital uplink console and initiated a secure connection to the Pentagon.

"I need authorization for a nuclear strike," he said flatly. "We cannot permit the rift to remain open. Their numbers are unlimited."

Fury's eyes snapped toward him, disbelieving. "Are you out of your mind? That's New York. There are still over six million people within range."

"If we manage the altitude and the yield, the fallout will be contained," Ross replied coolly. He wasn't suicidal, just ruthless. He sought a swift end to an invasion spiraling out of control, regardless of cost.

The World Security Council fell silent for several seconds, tension thick in the air like smoke.

Finally, the chairperson's voice returned over the comms: "Authorization granted. Responsibility lies with you, General Ross."

Ross gave a terse nod. "Understood."

Fury stepped forward quickly. "Wait—"

"Careful, Director," the Council's chair cut in icily. "You are no longer in command."

"And without the Chaldeans, you're marching blind," Fury replied as he pulled up another live feed. "Shen He's current combat suit outclasses Stark's Mk-52. She can intercept that warhead midair. And Qimu Kusuo can teleport that nuke into the ocean—or worse, right onto your front lawn."

The room froze.

Ross's face clouded over as the Council members each remembered the demonstration of power from just two chapters prior—how Shen He had absorbed a repulsor overload and walked away from a high-orbit ion blast without flinching.

The pieces clicked into place. The Council's quiet intention to eliminate both the alien threat and Chaldea in one blow had now been unveiled for what it truly was: a strategic betrayal.

Fury pressed the point.

"They can vanish before your strike lands. And they'll show the world exactly what you tried. Not only will you fail, but you'll lose the trust of every citizen left watching."

Ross stiffened. The memory of the simulated projections Qimu had sent him—the burning cities, the crumbling institutions—lingered too vividly. He also remembered Shen He's warning: If you choose destruction, we will rebuild—without you.

The momentum turned.

Grinding his teeth, Ross hissed, "Then ask Chaldea if they know how to shut that damned rift."

He turned to Fury and conceded through clenched teeth, "At least for now... we're allies."

Fury gave the smallest nod, the tension in his shoulders easing. "I'll reach out."

This war wasn't just about guns or beasts or fire—it was a war of ideology, of politics, of strategic vision. And in this theater, devoid of gunpowder, missteps were just as fatal.

When Shen He received Coulson's encrypted ping, her brows lifted slightly in surprise. She hadn't expected negotiations so soon; previously, Fury had delegated contact with civilian fronts to Coulson for smoother diplomacy. Still, she had contingency plans—if the Council had launched the nuke, she could have intercepted it, neutralized it, and exposed them live to every civilian still tuned in across the globe.

After all, this conflict was being broadcast everywhere.

"If they want to talk, I'll take it," she said, and Jarvis opened the secure uplink within seconds.

General Ross's face filled the screen. "Mr. Shen… do you have a way to close that rift?"

"I've attempted every known sequence, but it isn't responding. For now, we need to focus on thinning their forces."

Shen He turned her gaze upward just as three more mechanical dragons erupted through the dimensional wound, trailing smaller fighters behind them like parasites clinging to a host.

"We must accelerate the evacuation," she said firmly. "Otherwise, we can't unleash our full strength. Can you support it?"

Ross, recovering quickly, responded with precision. "The first Air Force wing will arrive in seven minutes, but the ground convoy is still delayed due to traffic and blocked routes."

"Then we'll take over from here."

She had already assumed this would fall to them. Full cooperation had never been part of her expectations.

"Coulson," Shen He asked calmly, even as urgency threaded her voice, "has our 'Lifeboat' arrived yet?"

"It's breached the stratosphere," Coulson confirmed instantly. "Stealth descent sequence engaged."

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