Under Loki's orders, thousands of Chitauri descended like a storm, converging on Gul'dan from all directions aboard their sky-chariots.
They blanketed the sky like a swarm of locusts, dark, buzzing, and seemingly endless.
Instantly, the pressure on the Avengers vanished.
Steve furrowed his brow. "What's happening?" he called into the comms. "They're retreating?"
"I don't get it either," Natasha responded. "They were attacking us a second ago. Now they're all flying off... where?"
Among the team, only Tony, hovering high in the sky, had the best vantage.
He scanned the battlefield through his HUD.
"No more enemies nearby," Tony muttered, almost in disbelief. "Even the Leviathans… they're all pulling back."
And then he saw it: the horde of Chitauri racing toward one lone figure.
"Guys," he said slowly, "you're not gonna believe this, but they're all going after the green monster that just showed up, could he be on our side?"
High above the battlefield, Loki stood on the prow of a Chitauri chariot, the wind whipping through his dark hair. His cold gaze followed the army's movement.
The sight filled him with grim satisfaction.
Tens of thousands of soldiers, his soldiers, answering his command with absolute loyalty. The pulse of control, the feeling of power... it was intoxicating.
Mortals crawling below, armies bowing to his will, this was what he deserved.
"You dare challenge a god?" Loki sneered. "Then perish like the rest you dumb beast."
The chariots roared closer to Gul'dan, weapons glowing, alien fingers tightening around triggers.
The air began to hum with imminent death.
No one, absolutely no one could survive this much firepower.
Loki grinned in triumph.
Slowly. Deliberately.
The twisted warlock lifted his skeletal staff, eyes gleaming with malice. Then, he slammed it into the earth.
A thunderous pulse exploded outward.
Green flame erupted in a wide radius, spiraling outward in a fel-infused hurricane. The sky cracked with sickly light as a storm of destruction ripped through the battlefield.
It was an instant-cast spell, no incantation, no delay. The only weakness being its long cooldown.
A perfect choice for this moment.
The green blaze consumed everything in its path. The Chitauri flying above were the first to fall, their armor pierced like paper, flesh sizzling beneath their mechanical plating.
Screams echoed. Then silence.
The sky rained alien corpses.
On the ground, rows of Chitauri soldiers collapsed like dominos. Their bodies twisted, smoking, lifeless.
Thousands died in seconds, not even the Leviathans were spared.
Loki's triumphant expression twisted into horror.
He stood frozen on his chariot, watching the massacre unfold.
That wasn't just magic.
That was something else.
That power was unlike anything he had ever seen.
"Impossible…" he whispered.
Not even Odin's might could lay waste to an army so effortlessly.
And this… this was just one spell.
Fear surged in his chest like icy water. He spun around and fled, urging his chariot toward the giant portal above the city.
Only under the portal's vast shadow did he feel the slightest comfort. There, more Chitauri were still pouring in. This army was composed of millions, enough to replace the fallen hundreds of times over.
The dead were a mere fraction.
But as Loki looked back…
His blood turned to ice.
Gul'dan was casting again.
The warlock raised his staff once more and whispered an ancient incantation with his raspy voice.
Then, with a jagged spike protruding from his armor, he cut his own palm.
Thick, dark green blood dripped from the wound, soaking into the battlefield.
The earth drank it eagerly.
A second later, a massive magic circle bloomed beneath his feet, glowing in lavender and black, humming with unholy resonance.
Above it, ghostly lights began to flicker.
The spirits of the recently perished hovered in the air, swirling like a storm, drawn together by Gul'dan's call.
He raised his staff once more.
He struck the ground again.
The souls began to shriek and dance violently, as if pulled by an invisible force.
Then came the horror.
Each soul found a body, fallen Chitauri littered across the battlefield.
Mouths parting in soundless screams.
Even the Leviathans, colossal beasts the size of buildings, began to stir, their armored hides groaning as they lifted off once more.
Loki watched in frozen disbelief.
The newly risen army did not look at him.
They faced only Gul'dan.
He had taken the Chitauri's dead, and turned them into his own army.
The Resurrection of Death, another of Gul'dan's terrifying abilities.
He didn't just slay. He recruited from the fallen.
Their minds were no longer their own. They did not respond to the Chitauri hive-mind anymore. The mothership had lost control.
Now, they marched only to Gul'dan's will.
More than a dozen Leviathans formed up in eerie formation. The glowing-eyed undead climbed onto them, weapons raised once more.
And then, as if summoned by instinct, the original fifty Fel Super Soldiers appeared beside Gul'dan, silent, monstrous, loyal.
Alone, Gul'dan had come into this world.
Now, he stood at the head of an army born from blood, soul, and fire.
An army that feared absolutely nothing, for what did the dead have to lose?
And Loki, once the master of this invasion, could only watch as his great conquest began to slip through his fingers.