The sky darkened in an instant.
A storm gathered from nowhere, rolling in with an ominous heaviness, as if the heavens themselves were preparing for something monumental. In a matter of seconds, black clouds stretched across the horizon, heavy and dense, sealing off the sky like a tomb.
Then, as if on cue, the wind changed.
The others might not have noticed it right away, focused as they were on the battle at hand. But to Ophelia, who had wielded the wind like a weapon her whole life, the shift was unmistakable.
She'd always known the wind. It was hers in a way few things could ever be, an ally she could shape and command with a mere thought. She couldn't remember a time when it didn't feel like an extension of herself, as natural as breathing, as constant as her heartbeat. It whispered secrets, shrouded her defenses, and tore through any enemy she faced without question. The wind had always been reliable. Until now.
Now, she felt it pull away from her, like a spooked animal trying to escape its leash.
For a moment, she froze, barely processing the impossibility of what was happening. The wind is… resisting me?
Her mind raced, and she tightened her hold, trying to will the air back under her control. But it recoiled again, trembling like a creature cornered by a greater predator. This wasn't possible. The wind was her companion, her servant—it had always obeyed. This defiance went against every instinct she had, and yet, here it was.
Above, the clouds roiled, thickening like ink pouring through water. Streaks of lightning sparked to life, twisting within the darkness, casting stark, brief shadows over the battlefield. All around, the others turned their faces skyward, feeling the weight of something vast and ancient descending upon them.
And then, a spear of lightning split the sky.
For a heart-stopping moment, the entire field was thrown into a harsh, brilliant light. The shock and power of it rooted everyone in place, as if they were witnessing the arrival of something beyond human comprehension.
It felt… like a god had stepped onto the earth.
When the light dimmed, they saw him. Tall, imposing, a figure that seemed to carry the very weight of the storm with him. His armor was dark and solid, almost medieval, with a red cape that billowed behind him like a banner of war. He stood on nothing but air, suspended by the crackling energy of the storm itself, lightning coursing around him as though he were a conduit for the fury of the heavens.
Thor.
The first hero Charlie had summoned from the game's elusive A-list pool.
For those who had known only stories of gods, the sight of Thor was something else entirely. This was no symbolic title; the storm, the sky, the raw force of nature seemed to bend and bow to him. He didn't need technology. The lightning itself was his vehicle; the thunder his herald. Nature itself was saluting his arrival.
But if Thor's arrival had sent a shiver through the others, for Ophelia, it was something more visceral. She felt it at a level she hadn't known she possessed—a cold, primal instinct that warned her of the vast power now opposing her.
The wind around her, her constant ally, now seemed eager to escape her control.
Thor took his time, landing with a powerful, resounding thud. For a moment, he merely looked over at Iron Man, who was just managing to stand, his armor scratched and dented from the fight.
"Hah! Stark, you look… a little worse for wear. Can't handle one woman on your own?" he quipped, flashing a grin.
The comment struck Ophelia as carelessly disrespectful. As they joked, she felt her anger flare. With a sharp gesture, she sent a blade of compressed air shooting toward his back, fast enough to slice through steel. If he was going to ignore her, she'd make him pay for it.
Thor didn't so much as turn around. As the wind blade sliced toward him, his arm swung in one smooth motion, Mjolnir slicing through the air. It met her wind blade and shattered it with a blunt, almost contemptuous force. The impact not only broke the attack, but somehow reversed it, sending fragments of her own power hurtling back at her.
She barely had time to react, her eyes widening in shock. He turned it back on me? The notion was as impossible as it was infuriating, but the fragments of her own attack left no room for disbelief. They shredded through the air toward her, and by the time she summoned a shield, it was already too late. The shards of wind bit into her defenses, cutting through with ease and leaving thin, stinging slashes across her skin.
The force knocked her back, and she had to dig her heels into the ground to steady herself. She caught herself, heart pounding, barely able to grasp what had just happened. This man had turned her own power against her, as though it were child's play.
Thor still hadn't looked her way.
Iron Man, meanwhile, was picking himself up, brushing off bits of rubble. He glared at Thor, rolling his eyes beneath his visor. "I was just distracted, okay?" he muttered, casting an annoyed look at the Asgardian.
Thor smirked, clearly amused. "Don't take it so hard, friend. Always a pleasure seeing an old ally."
He raised Mjolnir, and with a flick of his wrist, the hammer shot forward like a cannonball.
Ophelia's instincts screamed at her, and she reacted instantly, summoning the full power of her Tis shield. Layer upon layer of interwoven air and energy formed before her, a defense she knew had repelled nearly every enemy she'd faced. Each layer carried the strength of reinforced steel, backed by the force of her will.
The hammer struck her first shield, and it crumpled like paper. The sheer impact tore through each defense with brutal precision, Mjolnir plowing forward as though her shields were made of mist. Her mouth went dry as the hammer bore down on her, faster than she could fortify herself. No...
Each layer shattered under Mjolnir's assault. Four shields, each one annihilated with a brutal, almost casual force. Her most powerful defense was falling apart, layer by layer, the impact battering her with each blow. It was as if her power was nothing, an illusion that Thor could dispel with a mere touch.
When the final shield broke, she felt it hit her in a place beyond just the physical. This was her power—the control she had always relied upon, shredded as if it were less than nothing.
The force threw her backward, her defenses stripped away, her body tumbling through the air. She hit the ground hard, rolling to a stop in the dust and debris, her whole form bruised and bloodied.
For the first time in ages, Ophelia felt fear. True, raw fear, as she looked up at the figure in front of her.
He still hadn't even broken a sweat.
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