"Where's the Tesseract?"
As if responding to its master's death, the golden blade in Peter's hand gradually dimmed. The radiant energy that once pulsed along its edge receded, fading into silence.
He let the weapon dissipate and cast a glance around the devastated battlefield before fixing his gaze on Maria Hill.
Hill studied him carefully—his masked face, his calm demeanor. She already knew who he was, but the overwhelming strength he had just displayed forced her to reassess him entirely.
"It was taken by the man wearing the horned helmet," she replied coolly. "Strange thing is… I never actually saw him holding it."
"Not strange at all," Peter said flatly. "Just a bit of misdirection—and some spatial magic."
His tone was calm, but inwardly, he was annoyed.
The deaths of Corvus Glaive and Proxima Midnight weren't the issue. If anything, they'd handed him a clean victory. But their interference had bought Loki just enough time to escape.
Even though Peter had already begun walking the path of overwhelming power—like Saitama, a force that could one day shatter all techniques with brute strength—magic was still… troublesome at this stage.
Of course, it wasn't just magic.
Loki now held the Tesseract—the Space Stone.
With his mastery of sorcery and vast knowledge, that essentially meant he could roam freely across the universe. Even if Odin or the Ancient One personally intervened, capturing Loki wouldn't be easy.
But fortunately… Peter knew Loki.
Loki was not the forgiving type. Whether it was Peter, Thor, or Odin, he wouldn't let any of them off the hook.
Which meant one thing—he was still on Earth.
And more than likely, he would proceed exactly as Thanos intended: open a portal, summon an army, and attempt to conquer the planet.
A single move that would let him take revenge on both Peter… and Odin.
Having reached that conclusion, Peter looked back at Hill.
"What are you going to do?"
Hill didn't immediately understand his meaning. A flicker of confusion passed through her eyes, though her expression remained composed.
"Director Fury has fallen. Two extraterrestrial attackers as culprits is… an acceptable explanation. As for what comes next, that will depend on the World Security Council's decision."
Peter shook his head.
With a flick of his finger, a strand of web shot out, wrapping around Hill's waist and pulling her sharply toward him.
"You really think he's done?" Peter said, his voice low but firm. "Taking the Tesseract was just the beginning—and you know that. Otherwise, they would've left the moment they got it, not turned around and attacked your people."
He gestured toward the ruins behind them.
"Look at that base. How many agents were inside? Now Nick Fury is dead, which makes you the highest authority in S.H.I.E.L.D. So answer me—what are you going to do?"
The webbing was impossibly strong. Hill tugged at it twice, failing to break free. A trace of irritation flashed across her face, and her tone turned colder.
"I already said—this matter requires deliberation by the Security Council. As a consultant, Mr. Parker, you can attend and ask them yourself."
An official answer.
Safe. Controlled. Final.
But this was Maria Hill.
Behind that answer, her own thoughts were already taking shape.
"If it were up to me…" she continued after a brief pause, her voice sharpening, "I'd go all in. Just like Nick said before he died—the war has already begun."
Her eyes hardened.
"And our job… is to fight."
At that moment, Peter's armor began to disassemble. Mechanical segments separated and retracted as the winged apparatus descended from above, retrieving the suit piece by piece.
In its place stood a tall, composed young man with sharp features and an effortless confidence.
"Then I'll make sure they put you in charge," Peter said with a faint smile. "As for weapons—Fury rejected my proposal. But I doubt you will."
Hill didn't respond.
She simply glanced at him once before turning away, already moving to coordinate the aftermath.
Their hidden base had been breached from within. The Tesseract's unstable energy had caused a catastrophic collapse, reducing the structure to ruins. Countless agents were still trapped beneath the debris.
In an instant, Hill became a machine of command.
Orders flowed from her without pause.
"Director Fury is dead. Under emergency protocol, I am assuming command of S.H.I.E.L.D."
"Recall all active personnel. Anyone not assigned to rescue operations is to mobilize immediately."
"I want Loki's location—now."
Her leadership style mirrored Fury's—but where he was calculating and seasoned, Hill was sharper, faster, more decisive. Less political… more direct.
Less compromise. More action.
By the time she finished issuing orders, a Quinjet had arrived on site.
Standing at its ramp, Hill glanced back at Peter.
"Care to visit one of our… remaining bases, Consultant?"
Peter smiled faintly.
"Of course. If I'm a consultant, I can't exactly walk away at a time like this."
He paused, then added with quiet intent:
"And I've heard Fury was assembling a special team… the Avengers."
His eyes gleamed.
"If they're called the Avengers, then it's only fitting they avenge Nick Fury. Don't you think?"
Hill said nothing.
But as she walked into the aircraft, her brows drew together ever so slightly.
Seated inside, she turned to the communications officer.
One command left her lips—clear, cold, and resolute.
"Send the message."
A brief pause.
Then—
"Avengers… Assemble."
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T/N:
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