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[Sehira]

Titan was swiftly decaying, and the Eternals residing here increasingly felt the harshness of their existence. Unprecedented poverty had befallen this once proud race.

Never had they imagined they would one day taste hunger.

After all, they were Eternals . Even in decline, they stood at the apex of the cosmic hierarchy, capable of easily accessing resources from across the cosmos.

Yet, the might of Odin and the influence of the three Infinity Stones held Titan in an unrelenting grip.

Attempts to flee Titan had all been futile; none had succeeded, and all the Eternals found themselves trapped on this small, depleted, insignificant planet.

In this dire situation, the Eternals endured year after year, the atmosphere thick with despair and even dread.

Days turned into years, and Titans died, yet no new life emerged.

Many years later.

Amidst vast, crumbling ruins and sporadic, orderly buildings, dozens of soldiers marched along deserted streets.

Leading them was a figure of distinct appearance—towering and muscular with skin akin to sweet potato, a stark contrast to the others.

This was Thanos.

Clad in full armor and wielding a massive double-edged sword, Thanos strode forward with several squads of soldiers, each face tense and somber.

"Thanos, I believe your plan is correct..." murmured a soldier behind him.

"It's too late," Thanos replied solemnly. "A millennium ago, we needed only to halve our population; five centuries ago, two-thirds sufficed."

"Now, we are on the brink of annihilation, with almost nothing left. Only by reducing our population by 99% do we stand a chance... It's too late."

They soon approached a circular structure.

A plaque beside it read: Powerhouse Warehouse, Death to Looters!

Guards surrounded the warehouse, their demeanor as tense and serious as Thanos and his troops.

"It's time for shift change," Thanos declared.

A silver-haired man emerged from among the stationed soldiers. He exchanged a code with Thanos and then asked, "How long do you estimate the supplies in the warehouse will sustain us?"

"Who knows? Perhaps a few more years, or we might fall to rebel hands before that," Thanos sighed. "The Infinity Stones truly wield unstoppable power. Before them, we are as insignificant as ants."

The silver-haired man nodded in agreement. "Indeed, the might of the three Infinity Stones has brought us to this. If anyone were to wield all six Stones, they could potentially unravel reality with a mere snap of their fingers."

"It's not a possibility; it's a certainty, requiring but a snap," Thanos remarked. "Very well, return to your post. We will handle the next shift."

"Hey!" At that moment, an arrow shot toward Thanos.

*Chong!*

Swiftly, Thanos deflected the arrow with a wave of his sword.

"It's the rebels!" the silver-haired man exclaimed, alarmed.

In an instant, a large group appeared not far off—hundreds strong, mostly emaciated with sunken eyes, a stark contrast to Thanos and his men.

Despite their weakened state, they possessed a fierce determination, their eyes glinting with a savage resolve, unafraid to meet death head-on.

"Kill the nobles! Divide the warehouse supplies evenly!" the rebels shouted as they charged.

"Attack!"

The silver-haired man glanced at Thanos. "We must eliminate these rebels first; they outnumber us."

Thanos nodded, gripping his sword tightly.

Soon, the guards and rebels clashed in a bloody confrontation.

Thanos, formidable and well-equipped, proved unmatched on the battlefield. He tore through the opposition like a whirlwind, his sword slicing through rebel ranks as though they were paper.

His massive blade, like a scythe of death, left devastation in its wake.

Though outnumbered, the rebels lacked the strength to prevail, especially against the likes of Thanos.

From the outset, the battle's outcome was clear—the rebels faltered, their numbers dwindling rapidly, more than half cut down or wounded within moments.

Yet, their resolve remained unbroken. With no retreat possible, they fought on, willing to die for their cause. The guards, in turn, suffered minimal losses.

As the skirmish wore on, casualties among the guards approached half their number, while the rebels faced near-annihilation.

"Ahhh!" In a desperate charge, a rebel lunged toward Thanos.

With a swift stroke, Thanos cleaved through the rebel's torso.

Blood sprayed across his face, briefly obscuring his vision in red.

Through the crimson haze, Thanos spotted a familiar figure and hesitated.

Among the remaining rebels stood a woman with short hair, clad in rags, clutching a broken dagger in her gaunt hands, tears streaming down her face.

"Sehira?" Thanos called out to her.

"Don't come any closer!" Sehira recoiled in terror, dagger raised defensively against Thanos.

Halting his advance, Thanos regarded her with mixed emotions.

A sudden cry rang out, and in an instant, the penultimate rebel fell to the silver-haired man's blade, leaving only Sehira.

Glancing between her and Thanos, the silver-haired man's eyes glinted with amusement. "Thanos, is she your confidante?"

Ignoring the remark, Thanos continued to study Sehira, questioning softly, "Sehira... Surely you understand now that I was right?"

Sehira remained silent, tears streaming unabated, her eyes dry as the planet beneath them.

"Speak, Sehira," Thanos urged.

Sehira's lips moved as if to respond.

But in that moment, a glint of steel flashed, followed by a piercing scream.

"What!"