The Guardian Of The Multiverse: A Hero's Burden

The Summit That Devours

(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)

The portal pinched shut behind them with a clean, glassy click. Cold air rolled across the stone—thin, high-altitude, Targon-thin—and Adriel's HUD bloomed to life over the horizon like a second sunrise. Party frames, vitals, inventories. For day's Peter's panel had been a gray static block, like the system refusing to say the quiet part out loud.

It flickered once. Then his nameplate slotted back in.

PETER — ONLINE.
HP: not great. Stamina: worse. Recovery: spiking.

Adriel's breath left him in a shaky laugh he hadn't given himself permission for. "There he is."

Artoria glanced up; she could see the same overlay the way any Guardian could when Adriel shared a feed. Her shoulders eased a fraction. "I told you. Ace would not break a vow over something so dear."

"Yeah," Adriel said, softer than he meant to. "Yeah, you did." He scrubbed a hand over his face like he could wipe the last hour off it. The constant pressure that had been camped behind his eyes since Red Goblin's little magic trick finally let go. "Dios, okay. I can actually think now."

"Then think about the task before us," she replied, gentle where her words were usually carved. "Peter rests. Ace guards. It is our turn."

He nodded and stepped fully out of the portal's spill. Targon came into view the way a cathedral comes into view whenever you stop trying to photograph it and just look—terraces cut into living mountain, ziggurat silhouette against a deep blue sky. Only it wasn't Targon as the stories remembered it. Sentries and spires were pristine, but the Solari golds had been cooled into slate and iron; Lunari crescents were inlaid with black stone you couldn't see until it caught the light and refused to give it back. Iconography had been... reorganized. Nothing shattered. Everything repurposed.

"Remodeled," Adriel said under his breath. "Like a villain bought the place and hired a classy interior designer."

Artoria folded her arms, reading the layers. "No corpses. No chains. The staff walk with care, not terror. This is... incongruous."

"And everybody's... weirdly okay," Adriel added, watching a pair of robed acolytes cross a courtyard with the settled sadness of people who've adjusted to a bad forecast. "Not happy. But not crushed."

At the main causeway, a small ripple of violet sparkles popped into being, and Zoe stepped out as if she'd been there the whole time and they were late to notice. Dark circles haloed her eyes like eclipse rings; her smile was bright and wrong in the same breath.

"Hiiiii! Welcome to Targon 2.0! Please keep your hands inside the metaphysical at all times, do not feed the Aspects, and definitely don't open any doors that say DO NOT OPEN." She leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Unless you wanna, but then it's on you."

Artoria's hand settled a hair closer to invisible steel. Adriel lifted two fingers in a sheepish wave. "Qué tal, Twilight. You're our... host?"

"Our concierge," Zoe said, delighted. "Mangog says no one fights you. That would be rude. Also boring. Please follow me to the Arena He Made Out Of The Old Observatory Because He Likes The Acoustics."

"You're very casual for someone wearing the Dark," Artoria said, polite and uneasy in equal parts.

"Oh, we're all very casual now," Zoe chirped, walking backward as if gravity was a strong suggestion. "There's a theme. Think less 'wrath tantrum', more 'wrath sommelier.' Mangog has a palate now. It's adorable. Terrifying. Adorabifying."