The Guardian Of The Multiverse: A Hero's Burden

Held Together by Belief

(Marvel, DC, images, manhuas, and every anime that will be mentioned and used in this story are not mine. They all belong to their respective owners. The main character "Karito/Adriel Josue Valdez" and the story are mine)

Eight Minutes Earlier...

The world was still cracking under the weight of battles that could fracture timelines. While Adriel was locked in his brutal confrontation with Sentry across space and shattered fiction, Runeterra continued to burn.

Artoria hadn't yet unleashed the final blow. Her breathing was ragged. Her armor, cracked. Her grip on Excalibur—firm, but trembling. Every second stretched like a drawn bowstring ready to snap.

All around her, the corrupted remnants of Shurima twisted and wailed. Not with voices, but with ruptured code and distorted echoes. The once-proud lands of gold and honor had become malformed structures of glitching geometry and red-black smog. Trees jittered like broken data loops. Castles floated in flickers, caught in failing animation frames.

And there—rising from one of the shattered ziggurats—came a presence that dwarfed even the fearsome aura of the Minotaur she'd just faced.

A thunderous pulse rolled over the horizon. Not thunder. Not magic. Not divine wrath.

Something older.

Something worse.

She didn't have to turn to know who it was. Her body knew before her mind could process it. Her nerves screamed before her eyes even locked on the figure stepping across the fractured air itself.

Dark Hercules had arrived.

Twice her size and ten times as loud, the god of gods walked through the battlefield with the arrogance of a man who had fought the primordial forces of oblivion and lived.

But this wasn't the Hercules of myth.

This version reeked of madness.

His eyes shimmered with an abyssal gleam—like he'd stared too long into the Chaos King and liked what he saw. A grin played at the edges of his face, feral and cracked.

His mace was slung over one shoulder. But even idle, it radiated the weight of dying realities.

"Lovely light show," he said, voice echoing across dimensions. "Took down the Minotaur, didn't you?"

Artoria stood slowly. Her lungs still burned from her last strike. "You're late."

"You're early," Hercules chuckled. "You weren't supposed to win. That beast was meant to soften you up. Guess that Guardian gave you more than a pep talk."

Artoria didn't reply.

She drew Excalibur again. Its edge still glowed with residual energy—but nowhere near its earlier brilliance.

"I don't want to fight you," she said.

"You say that like you have a choice."

He was in front of her before she could blink.

She barely got her blade up in time.

CLANG!

The mace struck like a falling star. Her arms screamed as she blocked, skidding back across cracked earth and skimming the edge of a molten canyon. Sparks flew. The ground cratered. Her knees buckled.

He wasn't trying.

She felt it.

That hit was lazy.