First Form: Projection

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Thanos rose into the sky, defying gravity's pull with a casual ease that came from his innate control over telekinesis. The horizon lay sprawled beneath him, a vast canvas painted with the fading hues of the day and the emerging stars of the night. The desolate landscape stretched in all directions, seemingly undisturbed by the signs of life that occasionally sprung up in the form of human settlements or the verdant patches of green.

The wind rustled against his face, cool and soothing, carrying with it the scent of the arid sand and the faint traces of life. He closed his eyes, soaking in the tranquility of the moment. The space stone in his possession pulsed with power, responding to his mood, reflecting his contentment.

His control over it had evolved in leaps and bounds, enabling him to instantaneously travel to any location within this realm that he had previously visited. It was, however, still incapable of piercing the barrier that kept him tethered to this world, preventing him from teleporting back to Earth. Each time he tried, an unseen force would hinder his effort, like an invisible wall deflecting him back. But as he grew stronger, the barrier seemed to thin slightly, a tantalizing promise of what lay ahead. Perhaps the entity watching over him had its designs.

The thought came and went, as Thanos continued his leisurely flight, his mind echoing with the words, "Maybe that entity wants me to become stronger before going back."

"Why don't you just teleport near their base?" The voice in Thanos' head chirped excitedly, an overxcited cheerleader on the sidelines eager for the imminent chaos.

"I'm trying to see the good in the bad situations, like Dr. Samson would say, what's the point of the journey if you don't have fun along the way," Thanos retorted with a smirk.

His gaze shifted upwards, drawn towards the multitude of stars that had begun to twinkle in the deepening twilight. Each one was a brilliant spark in the velvety canvas of the night sky, their shimmering forms a testimony to the vastness and mysteries of the universe. The entire celestial vista seemed to be mirrored in Thanos' azure eyes, an ethereal glow that accentuated his god-like demeanor.

Minutes passed like this, time marked only by the stars that slowly moved across the sky, till Thanos neared the base. He landed a safe distance away, the sensation of the solid ground under his feet a stark contrast to the weightlessness of the sky.

Not far from his landing point, two guards were stationed at a high vantage point. The first, a seasoned bandit with a perpetual frown, was voicing his displeasure about their duty, "Damnit, I want to drink to death too, why did we get assigned at such a good moment."

The second, a younger, fresher recruit, responded optimistically, "It means that the higher-ups are trusting us, we might even get promoted if we do a serious job."

The older guard's scowl deepened at this naivety, "I forgot that you're new, tch. Listen, we're bandits. What kind of evolution prospects do you think there are in our line of work?"

Before the conversation could continue, a figure appeared on the horizon. As it neared, the guards' lax attitudes faded, replaced by a sudden seriousness. The younger guard called out, "Who's here! Identify yourself!" Their bows were aimed at the imposing figure of Thanos, who now stood within range.

"Attack helicopter." Thanos' reply was casual, nonchalant even, to the point of absurdity.

The guards, taken aback by the nonsensical response, had no time to react as Thanos abruptly disappeared from their sight. Before they could even comprehend what had transpired, a booming noise echoed in the still night air.

"BOOM!"

The fortified gate, a testament to the bandit's stronghold, was reduced to splinters in an instant. The explosive force threw the guards off their feet, bones cracking upon impact. A cloud of dust rose from the demolished entrance, muffling the ensuing chaos.

Clouds of dust swirled upwards, obscuring the gate and shrouding Thanos from view. The lively chatter from within the base stopped abruptly, replaced by the sounds of panic and chaos. Stumbling to their feet, the bandits drew their weapons, the metallic clinks echoing ominously in the tense silence.

Slowly, a figure emerged from the dust cloud. His tall, intimidating frame was bathed in an eerie, golden glow that spilled from his clenched fists. As the dust settled, the bandits got their first clear look at their attacker. The giant of a man, his skin an unnatural purple hue, was clad in crimson robes, his azure eyes half-closed, carrying an air of lethargy. But what sent shivers down their spines were the transparent golden dragons spiraling around his fists.

'First form: Projection,' Thanos mentally commanded, and the dragons around his fists grew brighter, their ethereal forms more tangible, more threatening.

One of the bandits, a look of fear etched on his face, managed to stutter, "Heavenly Dragon Sect..."

Thanos surveyed the scene before him, his gaze lingering on the bandits, the slaves, even the children forced into servitude. His lethargic eyes conveyed no emotions as he spoke. "Let's start," he declared, his voice cutting through the deafening silence.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than he disappeared from view. An instant later, a nearby bandit collapsed, a hole burnt straight through his chest. Then another, and another. Each attack was swift and precise. One moment he was a blur, the next, he was standing amidst the fallen bodies of the bandits, his golden dragons glowing brightly.

His strikes were swift, efficient, ruthless. Each movement was a dance of destruction, a ballet of death. His fists, wrapped in the golden energy of the dragons, moved with a mesmerizing rhythm, tearing through the bandits like a hot knife through butter.

Their feeble attempts at defense were effortlessly brushed aside as Thanos moved like an unstoppable force. The bandits could do little more than watch in abject terror as their comrades fell one by one, their bodies shattered, their lives snuffed out in an instant.

The voice inside his head cheered him on, adding a surreal touch to the macabre spectacle unfolding in the bandit camp. It was a symphony of violence and death, with Thanos as the maestro, his every move a deadly strike.