Chapter 313: Ethan Decides to End the War Himself
"You want me to wrap this up fast, huh?"
Ethan caught the subtext buried in the Ancient One's words easily enough — she was really saying that this Banner from the future didn't trust his strength, and didn't believe they genuinely wanted to help him.
Which meant the only real solution was to demonstrate overwhelming power — make it absolutely clear to future-Banner that he had no reason to think they'd bother deceiving him.
"Ugh. What a hassle," Ethan sighed.
Truth was, he'd been holding back on the Chitauri this whole time mostly because he'd wanted his people to get some real combat experience out of it, and rack up a few more Friend Points along the way.
If Banner had never shown up, Ethan probably would've kept sitting this one out entirely — until Thanos himself actually showed up, if it ever came to that.
As for Manhattan getting torn to pieces in the meantime — not really his problem. He'd rescued the civilians who needed rescuing, and Hell's Kitchen hadn't taken so much as a scratch. As far as Ethan was concerned, he'd already done more than his fair share.
He glanced back toward Hell's Kitchen, where ordinary residents were still charging gleefully into the Chitauri ranks, thrilled at the prospect. To them, every one of those aliens was walking cash — and nothing hurt worse than missing out on easy money, not even the risk to their own necks.
Besides, people were people — why should anyone assume Hell's Kitchen's folks couldn't hold their own against the Chitauri?
These alien soldiers only had advanced weaponry going for them. Hell's Kitchen's own gear wasn't exactly shabby either — between the Continental and the scientists working in Hell's Kitchen, its people had access to some of the most cutting-edge weapons and equipment money could buy.
Ethan understood well enough: only genuine self-interest could keep a group of people this loyal and unified. Nobody was fighting off an alien invasion out of the goodness of their hearts, free of charge.
And Ethan himself wasn't in the business of running a charity, either. Once this battle wrapped up, he still intended to squeeze the federal government for compensation, same as ever — and he already had people out collecting the wreckage and gear from every downed Chitauri ship and soldier.
Still, he'd given everyone plenty of time to profit off this whole mess by now. Time to actually wrap this farce up.
Hovering high above the battlefield, Ethan looked down at the surging tide of Chitauri soldiers below, their eyes glinting with savage, invasive hunger.
He let out a slow breath, his voice carrying out across the sky. "Getting late. Time to send you all home."
He drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and reached inward — as if communing with something dark, coiled deep inside himself.
He felt the shadow-magic stirring within him, flowing slowly at first, like some sleeping dragon roused from its rest, beginning to churn beneath his skin.
As that power woke fully, a deep black aura enveloped his entire body, as though he'd transformed, in that instant, into some lord of darkness incarnate.
His presence swelled by the second, the air around him warping visibly under the sheer weight of it, twisting into a massive vortex.
Every superhero on the field felt that crushing pressure wash over them at once, eyes turning instinctively toward Ethan.
"Ethan's about to make his move."
"Boss is stepping in!"
"The old man's finally going all out!"
"Guess the fight's about to end."
"Boring. Finally, this is over."
"Damn it, my point total's gonna dry up — better kill a few more Chitauri quick before it's too late!"
It wasn't just the heroes on the field who noticed. The satellites orbiting overhead, every camera trained down on the battlefield, all caught the same sight: Ethan, wreathed in that deep, coiling darkness.
"Oh my god, THIS is what a real supervillain looks like."
"My mom asked why I was watching TV on my knees. Told her I got scared."
"Just looking at him from this far away is terrifying. THIS is the real Lord of Hell's Kitchen, huh?"
"With energy like that, what kind of finisher is he about to pull off?"
While viewers speculated wildly over what Ethan was about to unleash —
Ethan's eyes slowly opened, an unsettling, mind-piercing light flickering behind them.
With a low growl, countless shadows began rising from the ground, one after another, like demons crawling straight up out of hell, surging forward to tear into the Chitauri ranks.
The shadows moved with lightning speed, every single one carrying a heavy weight of dark power.
They wove through the Chitauri formations, and every strike claimed another life. In the span of a few heartbeats, every Chitauri soldier on the ground had been wiped out entirely — the whole legion, gone.
Watching it unfold, both mutants and Hell's Kitchen's own heroes stood frozen in shock.
One by one, they pulled back from the center of the battlefield, ceding the fight entirely to Ethan.
Even the residents who'd poured out from Hell's Kitchen to fight started heading home.
They all trusted, without question, that once Ethan actually stepped in, the whole thing would be finished.
Still — none of them had expected it to be quite THIS easy.
"When exactly did Ethan pick up a spell like that? Summoning killers straight out of your own shadow — that's a proper assassination technique if I've ever seen one," Strange muttered, watching with genuine unease. That particular trick had killed any sense of safety he might have had left — what if, someday while he was deep in seclusion, his own shadow spat out an assassin to kill him? There'd be no defending against that.
"Okay, that's actually incredible," Tobey-Peter said, staring at the dense swarm of shadow-soldiers covering the ground. He wanted that move so badly. Compared to that, shooting webs out of his wrists suddenly felt embarrassingly lame.
By now, every viewer around the world had stopped breathing, eyes glued to their screens, waiting to see what Ethan would do next. The name "Ethan Cross" had become, in that moment, the hero every single one of them was rooting for — his every movement holding the attention of billions.
Ethan watched, expressionless, as the shadow legion swept the Chitauri off the ground like autumn leaves before a storm. But from the depths of that strange, unfathomable black hole, more Chitauri kept pouring out endlessly, an unbroken tide.
Guess I need to shut that black hole first, Ethan thought to himself. He knew perfectly well: leave that portal open, and this fight would never actually end.
He drew a deep breath and extended his right hand. Instantly, a silver-white glow began rising from his palm, as if drawing on some limitless well of power. A moment later, a colossal, ghostly image of a right hand materialized in the sky above, vast enough to blot out the sun itself.
As Ethan slowly closed his fist, the black hole in the sky began to shrink in tandem — as though it were the gaping maw of some enormous beast, being slowly, inexorably crushed shut by that massive spectral hand.
Every clench drew the hole smaller, as if bound by some invisible, unstoppable force.
Finally, with everything Ethan had, the black hole overhead simply sealed shut entirely.
In that instant, the whole world seemed to fall silent — nothing left but Ethan, and the last wisps of the black hole dissolving into nothing above him.
Everyone who witnessed it sat in stunned disbelief.
"How is this even possible."
"I just watched Ethan crush a black hole shut like he was squeezing an orange."
"That black hole's gotta be some kind of mirage or special effect — there's no way. This has to be a movie. No way a human being actually does that."
It wasn't just the ordinary viewers left staggered by the sight. Even the Ancient One herself, Sorcerer Supreme in her own right, found herself genuinely shaken.
The Ancient One, naturally, understood something the rest of the world didn't — she knew exactly why Ethan was capable of this: the Space Stone.
But even accounting for that, the sheer fluency with which Ethan wielded it was staggering.
It had taken her a full two thousand five hundred years to master the Time Stone to any comparable degree.
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