The wind stirred gently across the upper terrace of Arx Seraphim, wrapping itself around obsidian pillars and angelic statues with reverent hush. Below them, Heaven shimmered, its cities breathing in perfect rhythm, unbothered by the noise of mortal crises.
Sif, seated across from Markus, had gone quiet.
Thor and Jane sat nearby, speaking in hushed tones. The thunder god kept glancing toward Sif, expectant, perhaps hopeful. Jane, wisely, said little.
Sif raised her eyes at last.
"Yes," she said. "I will fight. Not for Midgard. Not for Asgard. For my own values."
Markus, leaning comfortably back in his chair, smiled at her.
"Good," he said. "I find choice far more interesting than obedience."
He called for Onyx.
Markus looked between the two women.
"You'll have a new underling soon."
Onyx raised a brow, she was amused.
"I've been patient."
"And you've kept your claws sharp, I hope."
She gave a rare, faint smile. "Always."
He stood and looked to Sif, then to the others.
"We will not depart now. Prepare yourselves. We leave when the chaos is ripe enough to be useful."
Jane tilted her head. "You knew this was coming?"
"I know all of it," Markus said simply. "But I care very little of it."
He turned and walked toward the hall, not waiting for farewells.
"I'll inform you when it's time."
Days passed.
Heaven did not sleep. It did not hum with anxious energy, nor did It prepare for war.
It simply existed in it's serene perfection, unbothered, sovereign.
Markus watched events unfold. He saw Ultron fracture, saw the Vision form, saw Wanda's agony begin to awaken.
He traced the echoes of power, tracked the tilt of divine currents. He observed Tony's guilt fester, Bruce's hesitation grow, and the world slowly slip step by step toward the birth of the Sokovia Accords.
He was patient.
When the time was right, when the skies over Sokovia had begun to bleed with steel and fire he moved.
Markus, arms folded behind his back. His presence was armament enough.
Sif stood with sword in hand, freshly armored, yet something softer lingered in her eyes. Her resolution.
Onyx stood still, she'd said nothing about what was coming.
Markus glanced sideways at them both.
"Let us show the world what restraint looks like."
And then, they vanished.
Sokovia was a storm of steel and flame.
The sky tore open without warning, a thin line widening into an elegant gateway of reality itself. From within, three figures calmly stepped forward, untouched by panic or fire.
Markus strode first, towering in tailored black, eyes calm and distant. Sif followed, gripping her sword with quiet determination, eyes blazing with resolve. And Onyx walked behind them, silent as a shadow, poised and ready.
The Avengers froze briefly, attention wrenched from Ultron's hordes, eyes wide in stunned confusion. Fury's voice crackled through Stark's comm:
"Tell me that's not Markus…"
Tony's reply was dry. "That's Markus."
Markus paused in the epicenter of the battle, chaos swirling gently around him as though hesitant to disturb his silence. He scanned the warzone, quickly finding Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch, her red energy blazing fiercely, unstable yet powerful.
He tilted his head faintly.
"Interesting magic," Markus mused quietly. "Let's see what it feels like."
Markus activated Rule, his evolved skill inherited from another reality. He effortlessly copied Scarlet Witch's power, every intricate detail, every emotional nuance, every thread of chaotic potential.
He took it for himself first.
The copied power slid smoothly into his being, instantly merging with Veritas Rex. He breathed deeply as it settled into place, quiet satisfaction on his face.
Then he turned to Onyx, whose eyes were already fixed upon him, ready, patient.
"You'll enjoy this," he said, raising a hand toward her.
He bestowed the copied Chaos Magic onto her. Crimson light flared gently around Onyx, seeping into her skin like a living, breathing force.
But he didn't stop there.
With another gesture, Markus activated Chrono Condensation, folding time around Onyx alone. In an instant, months passed within a personal pocket of condensed reality. Time stretched and looped, invisible to the outside world.
Inside that bubble, Onyx trained tirelessly, mastering Scarlet Witch's chaotic arts with relentless precision. Months of mastery and control, every minute detail of her newfound power explored, understood, and refined.
In reality, not even a second passed.
The glow faded.
Onyx exhaled softly, her eyes now faintly traced with scarlet. She flexed her fingers gently, feeling the deep rooted mastery within.
"Thank you," she whispered, voice calm but deeply sincere.
Markus nodded once, satisfied.
Only then did Markus gesture towards the sky, casually lifting a finger.
In an instant, the entire Ultron network froze.
Thousands of drones hovered motionless. Silence fell instantly, so absolute it seemed unnatural. Ultron Prime staggered forward, head jerking as it lost control.
"You.." the AI sputtered, voice cracking. "Impossible!"
Markus ignored it entirely, calmly overwriting its consciousness, like a scholar editing an errant text.
He glanced at Onyx, amused.
"Your army now," he said. "Command them to fix the mess."
Onyx stepped forward, lifting one hand confidently.
The Ultron drones snapped instantly to attention, their eyes shifting to her same crimson shade.
She guided them effortlessly, redirecting their former rampage into disciplined precision. Civilians were saved, damage repaired, threats dismantled. Scarlet Witch herself watched in open astonishment, recognizing her own powers displayed with a precision and elegance she had never known.
Captain Rogers stood dumbfounded. "When did she..?"
Tony's voice crackled through the comm again, bewildered: "Markus's Assistant… has Chaos Magic?"
Fury's silence spoke volumes.
When the dust cleared, Markus tossed the Mind Stone, which he created himself, casually to Steve.
"Better take care of this," he said calmly. "This chapter no longer interests me."
As he turned away, the destruction of Sokovia quietly reversed itself beneath his feet, buildings restored, fires extinguished, lives mended.
The world watched again.
Within hours, countless new voices joined the growing chorus of prayer to Markus.
The UN and the World Security Council watched in helpless fury, their authority dwarfed by a single man's effortless intervention. And in their anger and fear, the Sokovia Accords were born.
Back in Arx Seraphim, Sif stood silently next to Onyx. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"You never mentioned you had such powers."
Onyx smiled gently. "I didn't."
"Then since when?"
Onyx's smile deepened, gaze drifting toward Markus standing quietly in the distance.
"Since Markus bestowed them upon me," she replied simply. "When he grants something, you don't merely wield it, you become it."
Sif stared at Onyx, realization dawning in her eyes.
She was beginning to understand the true depth of the man whose path she had chosen to walk beside.
Heaven was silent.
Sif stood on the high western overlook of Arx Seraphim, arms folded, eyes cast out toward the far horizon where light danced against the stormglass towers of Lux.
She had fought titans.
She had stood before gods.
And yet… what she had witnessed in Sokovia unsettled her in a way none of those battles ever had.
It wasn't Markus's raw power, though that was staggering.
It wasn't Onyx's transformation, even though that too lingered in her mind.
It was the manner of it.
Effortless. Precise. Dispassionate.
Markus hadn't joined the battle out of duty or allegiance. He hadn't thrown himself into the fray like a hero. He had moved through it like a conductor adjusting a single note in a song written long before the instruments existed.
He had given Onyx the power to reshape reality, not because it served a cause, but because it amused him.
And then he had handed the Mind Stone to the Avengers like a man tossing breadcrumbs to children.
Sif exhaled. "He doesn't intervene. He edits."
She had expected Markus to treat her as another soldier. Perhaps as a prized consort.
But he hadn't. He had asked her if she wanted to fight. Not ordered. Not demanded. Asked.
He had given her a choice and then let her witness the true weight of his world.
She was no longer sure if she stood beside a god… or something else entirely.
Meanwhile, in a SHIELD war room deep underground...
Nick Fury stared at the screen in stunned silence.
Replays of Sokovia played in brutal clarity.
On one screen: Ultron drones moving in coordinated ranks under Onyx's command. On another: Markus standing still, watching it all with disinterest, like a god observing a fire he did not start but now chose to snuff out.
Fury spoke without looking at anyone.
"He took control of Ultron."
Maria Hill frowned. "Technically, he took control of every Ultron. Prime included."
"He didn't fight," Fury muttered. "He just... flipped a switch."
"What the hell do we do with that?"
Tony Stark sat in a separate chamber, watching the same footage on a loop.
He didn't blink.
Didn't speak for nearly a full minute.
Finally, he exhaled.
"So… Markus just turned my Frankenstein monster into a service drone," he muttered. "Great."
He leaned back, rubbing his temple.
"This isn't a power level. This is chess with nuclear warheads."
Pepper, standing nearby, asked gently:
"Can we even include him in the Accords?"
Tony didn't answer.
He just stared at the screen where Onyx levitated debris with crimson elegance while Markus stood behind her, hands clasped, unmoved.
"He's not a superhero," Stark said quietly. "He's a concept."
Two days later. UN General Assembly, Geneva.
The chamber was packed. The air, thick with anxiety masked as diplomacy.
The Sokovia Accords had officially entered open draft.
Delegates debated limitations, clauses, oversight structures. Enhanced individuals were listed. Conditions outlined. Restrictions defined.
But tension kept bubbling beneath the surface.
Everyone had seen the Sokovia broadcast.
Everyone had seen him.
And yet… no one wanted to say it.
Until a voice from the French delegation cut the silence.
Clear. Measured. Deadly.
"We have reviewed the footage from Sokovia. Lord Tenebris took command of Ultron and halted the entire war."
"Are we… to assume the Accords do not apply to him?"
The chamber fell into a profound silence.
No one replied.
Not because they had no answers.
But because they didn't know if asking the question itself had already invited disaster.
UN General Assembly, Aurora Divina
The skies above Aurora Divina, the City of Embassies, were steel gray with diplomatic weight. Embassies from eighty five nations stood in solemn lines, their banners subdued against the grand white stone of the United Nations Embassy Complex. This city, crafted by Markus himself was the only corner of Heaven open to the world.
And today, it would bear witness to a conversation no building had ever hosted before.
The Sokovia Accords had gained traction fast. Too fast. The footage from Sokovia had gone viral, and with it, the pressure to rein in what governments could not control.
Japan had been the first to break the silence after France's uneasy question. Their delegate stood firm, voice unwavering.
"Lord Tenebris must not be exempt," the representative declared. "He acted unilaterally, altered global conflict, and commands weapons and individuals beyond comprehension. That alone warrants regulation."
The chamber went still again. Whispers spread like wildfire.
The debate that followed was a mixture of fear, ambition, and self preservation masquerading as diplomacy.
And then came one of the worst assignment of Nick Fury's life.
He arranged the meeting at Aurora Divina, within the towering marble and gold of the UN's neutral diplomatic hall.
He had hoped Markus would send a message.
Instead, he came in person.
Markus arrived on time.
Dressed in a flawlessly cut, charcoal black three piece suit, his figure eclipsed most of the doorway as he entered. Sif walked to his left, tall, poised, steel eyed. Onyx to his right, expression unreadable, clad in flowing black red silk.
Fury stood flanked by Phil Coulson and unexpectedly Maria Hill.
Hill stiffened the moment she saw him.
Her memory didn't need a refresher.
Back in New York, she had stood her ground against him in words. And now here he was. Her nightmare, every night she was waking from another nightmare where Tenebris was dragging her soul through fires of hell. Standing, larger than life, impossibly serene, a myth in flesh and reality.
Markus noticed her. He offered no words. Just a single wink.
Hill looked away sharply. Fury exhaled.
They entered the chamber.
Markus seated himself without waiting to be invited. Sif and Onyx stood behind him. Silent, statuesque.
Fury cleared his throat.
"We appreciate your time, Lord Tenebris. I've been asked by the WSC and UN general leadership to.."
"Explain the Sokovia Accords," Markus interrupted, smiling faintly. "Please. I enjoy the theater."
Fury gave a tight nod and continued.
He outlined the accords, the list of regulations, the demand for registry and oversight, the call for cooperation with sovereign governments, the clauses allowing delayed response unless government authorized intervention was issued.
Markus listened with that same polite smile. Almost benevolent.
When Fury finished, there was a brief silence.
And then Sif spoke first.
"No," she said firmly. "This is madness. Politics has nothing to do with being a warrior. These... councils cannot decide what is right in the midst of fire and death."
"Spoken like someone who's never been burned by policy," Coulson muttered under his breath.
Markus chuckled softly.
He stood slowly, smoothing his jacket sleeve.
"Lady Sif is correct in essence. But I, for one, find your little attempt at bureaucratic leash ..adorable."
He looked at Fury.
"Yes. You're all terrified. You want your world to make sense again. You want someone to blame when it doesn't. That's what these papers are for, yes?"
He clasped his hands behind his back, walking slowly across the polished floor.
"The Sokovia Accords are necessary. For this world. For your world. A clown world ruled by fragile men with crooked spines and louder voices than wisdom."
He stopped.
"Yet, I am not part of it."
A pause. Then the verdict.
"I will not help this world again. Under any circumstance. I will not offer insight, hands, or hope. I will not sign your treaties. I will not dance in your circuses."
Fury blinked. "You're... serious."
Markus tilted his head, amused.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
Fury turned toward Onyx next, desperate, grasping for a last thread.
"And what about you? Do you follow him in everything?"
Onyx raised an eyebrow. That was answer enough.
Fury sighed.
Markus turned to go, but paused at the door.
"Do be sure to explain it to your world properly, Director. As I've said it. Not wrapped in diplomacy or wrapped in fear."
He vanished, Sif and Onyx followed a breath later.
The silence left behind was thunderous.
Hill let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Coulson leaned back, eyes still wide.
Fury rubbed his forehead.
"Why is it always me," he muttered, "that ends up face to face with that monster."
By the time the meeting ended, the plaza outside the UN Assembly Dome was already flooded with reporters.
Cameras flashed. Drones hovered. Anchors stood in tight rows, rehearsing practiced lines with anxious expressions. Aurora Divina, usually a polished marvel of controlled diplomacy was on edge.
And then the doors opened. Nick Fury stepped out flanked by Maria Hill and Phil Coulson, his expression unreadable. He paused briefly, looked up at the hovering cameras, and exhaled.
"We asked Lord Tenebris to consider the Sokovia Accords," Fury said flatly. "He declined."
The reporters erupted.
"Director Fury! What was his reason?"
"Is Eden Industries now hostile to international policy?"
Fury raised a hand.
"Eden Industries is not hostile. He made it clear: he won't support the world again. He won't fight its battles. And he won't respond to requests of UN or crises."
"So… he's walking away?" one journalist asked.
Fury shook his head.
"No. He's reminding us we never controlled him in the first place."
The footage went global within the hour.
The UN internal briefing, recorded and reluctantly made public due to the visibility of the incident was aired in real time across every major network.
It was not the politicians who shook the world.
It was Fury's closing line in that briefing, delivered without dramatics:
"We forced the only entity capable of stopping the next extinction level event to walk away."
"Because we wanted him to play by rules he never needed."
Global Reaction, Civilian Shock and Backlash
Across the globe, public reaction exploded.
In New York, where Eden Industries had rebuilt hospitals after the Chitauri invasion, people protested outside UN offices holding signs that read:
"HE SAVED US, YOU FAILED US."
In Sokovia, recently rebuilt and fully restored thanks to Markus's intervention, entire neighborhoods flooded the city square in mass vigils. Thanking a god who no longer answered.
In Jakarta, Nairobi, Buenos Aires, and Istanbul, where Markus had intervened through Eden Industries satellites, healing temples, and infrastructure deployment, the mood turned from confusion to outright anger.
Online platforms surged with trending tags:
#MarkusWalks
#YouLostTenebris
#UNvsGod
#TenebrisHelpedUs
#JapanDidThis
The day after Fury's press appearance, the UN reconvened behind closed doors. But leaks flooded out immediately.
Tempers boiled.
Blame flew like arrows.
Several African and Southeast Asian delegates demanded to know why Japan insisted on applying the Accords to an entity that had previously shown no malice and had, in many cases, done more for humanity than their own governments.
The Japanese delegation remained firm but cornered.
"We followed protocol," one of them repeated. "We respected precedent."
"You respected fear!" a German diplomat fired back. "You wanted to leash a storm and now the skies are empty."
The European bloc was split. France remained neutral, but visibly concerned. Germany attempted to defuse the accusations. Canada, notably, did not speak.
Within forty eight hours, the UN, backed by a multinational appeal, attempted to reestablish contact with Markus.
A formal letter was submitted via Eden Industries' diplomatic channels in Aurora Divina, requesting an emergency second summit.
It was returned unopened.
Instead, the message that came through was simple. Delivered by Onyx herself to the UN gatekeeper:
"He is not at your back and call."
"You had your chance."
"You lost it."
Heaven, Arx Seraphim
Time passed in Heaven, but it did not rush.
It flowed gently, like the wind over the obsidian towers of Arx Seraphim, or the hymns echoing softly from the spires of Lux at dusk. Cities functioned with mechanical elegance. Worship grew not by force, but by awe. Eden Industries perfected itself silently in the background.
Markus enjoyed it. Not because he ruled it. Because he had built it right.
Sif had grown into the rhythms of this new realm. She no longer clutched a sword at every temple procession. Her walks through the elevated gardens turned leisurely. She still watched from a distance when Onyx summoned wind or fire from her fingers, but there was only curiosity her eyes.
Onyx, for her part, rarely spoke unless needed. She didn't need to. Her presence alone was reminder enough of Markus's reach.
Outside Heaven's shielded airspace, the world churned. The Sokovia Accords fractured the very idea of the Avengers.
Rogers and Stark stood on opposite sides, ideology versus regulation, liberty versus fear. Lines were drawn, friendships cracked, and another civil war, this time of enhanced individuals in capes ripped across Earth's surface.
Markus didn't flinch. He watched. The world hadn't forgotten him, and neither had the UN.
Their first act after the accords passed was to appoint Tony Stark as liaison to Eden Industries, with a single directive:
"Convince Lord Tenebris to reconsider the accords."
The Balcony of Arx Seraphim, it was dusk when Tony arrived.
The grand balcony atop the central spire overlooked all of Arx Seraphim. From there, the golden glow of Lux could be seen on the horizon, silhouetted against clouds turned amber by setting light.
Markus stood calmly at the edge, sipping a rare vintage from a crystal glass.
Tony approached with his usual bravado, thinner than usual. Markus greeted him warmly.
"You've built a kingdom up here," he said.
"Yes," Markus replied. "Unlike yours, it hasn't tried to destroy itself lately."
Tony didn't laugh. He went straight to the point.
"They want me to ask you to reconsider the Sokovia Accords. Official request."
Markus tilted his head. No surprise in his eyes. Just faint amusement.
"You ask me if I'd like to chain myself to the decisions of the same people who needed my intervention to clean up the messes they create?"
Tony hesitated.
"It's... not perfect. But it's the best of the worst."
"And you trust them? To decide when and how to unleash your kind?"
Tony looked down. Then away.
He couldn't answer. Because he didn't.
Markus smiled softly. "Then why are you here?" Tony didn't respond.
He turned, silent, and left the same way he came.
Empty handed.
Outside of Heaven, civil unrest exploded.
The public, now painfully aware of who Markus was and what he had done did not forgive the UN's arrogance.
Across dozens of nations, from Sokovia to Seoul, Istanbul to Lima, mass protests surged:
"He reversed our dead!"
"Where Is The Justice For A God Who Saved Us?"
"The UN Failed. Markus Delivered."
Memes, art, even modern hymns flooded the cultural veins of humanity. Church attendance declined. Tenebrism flourished.
Even in countries that voted for the Accords, citizen pressure mounted.
Markus on the other hand, did nothing. Said nothing.
The Sanctum Sanctorum, New York
As Doctor Stephen Strange rose in power and took the mantle od Sorcerer Supreme from the Ancient One, not all went quietly.
One evening, as the winds of the multiverse threatened to stir too deeply, he questioned the presence he had seen flickering at the edge of mirror realms.
Yao did not smile. She looked at him hard.
"Never provoke him." She said tone sharp.
Strange frowned. "You mean Tenebris."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"If he turns his gaze toward you... there will be no war. Only ruin."
Meanwhile… in the Depths of the Cosmos
Far beyond Heaven and Earth, in the black of space where stars whispered and empires crumbled...
Markus's eyes opened.
He had seen the ripple. Not a disturbance. A presence.
A figure draped in inevitability.
Thanos had begun his march.
And Vormir had stirred.
The wind on Vormir howled like ancient ghosts screaming into the void.
The sky was painted in twilight orange, and beneath the jagged ridge of black rock, Thanos knelt, his massive frame hunched, silent. His fingers trembled, still stained with the blood of the only thing he'd loved.
Gamora was gone.
The silence was not reverent. It was accusing.
And then… the stone appeared.
The air shimmered. The cliff face rippled like water.
And from the abyss, the Soul Stone rose, glowing deep amber, heavy with meaning. It hovered above the pool of sacrifice, waiting to be claimed by the one who had fulfilled the price.
As it descended gently into Thanos's open palm..
It flickered. Time hiccupped. Reality trembled. And then..
Markus was there.
He didn't appear in smoke or fire.
He simply was.
Towering above the stone's form as it hovered inches from Thanos's grasp, Markus stood clad in midnight woven robes, Veritas Rex pulsing faintly at the edge of perception.
He looked down at the Soul Stone with a detached, contemplative expression.
"At last," he murmured.
His hand opened, divine script flaring across his palm.
A storm of divinity ignited around him, ten million points burning like galaxies collapsing into a single breath. The ground beneath his boots cracked and mended at once. Even the space around the Soul Stone shimmered, as though the laws of the universe were holding their breath.
A perfect replica was forged, spun from thought, dominance, and sacrifice.
The original was lifted between realities, stored. Vanishing into his dominion like a sun swallowed whole.
The replica dropped neatly into Thanos's waiting palm.
He never stirred nor he saw.
Markus vanished the moment the exchange was complete.
Moments later, Thanos awoke, sprawled in the cold and murky water.
His vision swam with loss and fate.
He sat up slowly, head pounding, and looked down into his massive hand.
There it was. The Soul Stone. Still glowing. Still real.
He believed it was real. And that was enough. He closed his fist.
And turned his gaze toward Earth.