The Birth of a God and the Death of a Universe

"Oh that's that good shit!" I yelled as the Knull powers really kicked in.

And what a glorious power up it was. Sure my olive skin turned chalk white and the white of my eyes turned bright red, and my mind was becoming a super dark and edgy place, and I wanted to murder everyone before they can take the Darkhold from me… Wait a minute… Fuck the Darkhold!

In a moment of insight I took up the All-Black, and as the god of the Symbiotes, my smart atom subatomic black holes would no longer tear apart the symbiote. In fact, the All-Black transitioned to smart atom make up as it bonded to me. Together, we mounted our offensive against the Darkhold and its corruption. How? I put it in my mouth, AND ATE IT!

The All-Black and I consumed the Darkhold and followed its connection to K'lay - The Flickering Realms - the dimension of the Darkhold and the home of its master Chthon. There we encountered the elder god of chaos in the form of a pale man, hairless with a pair of wide horns curling downward.

I covered myself in anti-magic as my energy absorbing powers set about consuming the chaos energy saturating the environment.

"No. This is not happening." Chthon denied and I felt my connection to the realm slip, "Begone, Abjurer, you antifun ass. I will not allow you to engage in delaying tactics while you absorb more and more power from my realm to strengthen you during your ascension to godhood. I have destroyed the Darkhold within you, and hereby banish you."

With Chthon's banishment I was hurled bodily out of his realm, slamming into my meditation mat hard enough to shake my Vibranium Uru sanctuary.

"Huh. I did not expect that." I muttered as I rubbed my head.

Turns out my plan for fighting Chthon and his influence was valid, but the Dark Master knew my plans and planned around them to outsmart my plans. Once more confirming the absolute futility of plans. I'd still gained quite a bit before he cut me off though, both from his realm and from the Darkhold copy he destroyed.

I took out all of my current generation of power nanites, my magic arc reactors, the Invincible Skulls, and my Captain Marvel Claymore, as well as my more powerful exotic metals such as Corvus Glaive's glaive - a weapon capable of tearing through Vibranium with ease. I fed all of them to the All-Black, and in return it rebuilt them stronger than ever, encasing me a suit of advanced armor. A little spiky for my taste, but I'd have to learn to love it. After all, once you are a primordial god of darkness, capable of manipulating a fount of eldritch darkness known as the living abyss, and producing and using 'dark' energy you kind of have to just go along with the theme. Fighting it is pointless. At least the All-Black doesn't need to be literally all black, as the glowing red Viltrumite Symbol on my chest showed and the red lining of my techno-symbiote covered fur coat demonstrated.

Arc Reactors glowed a divine gold in my pauldrons, on my belt, and even in two places on my helmet to simulate eyes. These god tier Arc Reactors served in a power system along with upgraded technology taken from the villain Powerplex, whose energy absorption tech greatly enhanced my Infinity Stone granted energy absorption, and my magical enchantment work of a similar nature.

All together I could ramp up my power rapidly in a fight against anyone stupid enough to participate in a fist fight or blast me with energy attacks, and my Arc Reactors could take over in case the enemy wised up and tried getting tricky.

Feeding the All-Black my nanites and kimoyo beads meant the powerful biological weapon gained a vicious technological edge, now capable of not only creating goo type constructs, but gaining a Generator Rex quality of being able to incorporate and replicate any tech I found.

Then I linked the All-Black to the corpse of Ego, the same way Knull linked the sword to the first Celestial they killed, providing it yet another source of power to pull from. Then I baptized everything in the powers of Chaos and Hell using dark rituals taken from the Darkhold, rituals I no longer needed to fear using. I did that last bit for fun, and to fully embrace the edge.

I walked a fine line these days, between a self aware smuglord, and a drowning in angst edgelord.

My heart firmly in the right place, I set off to murder my grandkids.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

I tore into the Flaxan dimension, and under that red sky I saw my perfect utopia torn asunder, crushed, and lying in ruins from an obviously devastating civil war. My glorious ecumenopolis lay before me as wreckage, and I felt a burning rage in my heart. A rage that caused me to patch up the dimensional lock and change the magical keys, trapping everyone in this hellscape with me.

A billowing burning red aura burst into life around me briefly tickling the sky above and signaling my challenge to anyone with any capacity for sensing the world around them. A challenge the New Asgardians quickly assembled to answer.

We said no words to each other as they filled the sky and I flew up to meet them, only screaming like wild animals. With a snap of my fingers I denied them any use of magic or enchantments, and when I collided with their outstretched spears the tips skittered off my armor, and my sword clove the first victim of my wrath in twain. They flowed over me like a tsunami, all of them expert combatants with millennia of training, augmented fully, wielding weapons of the strongest physical quality, and bearing with them the great divine powers of the line of Odin.

Each Asgardian Viltrumite offered me a different puzzle to solve after the first died in surprise, but the dedicated mages fled the field. I worked my way through my opponents, engaging multiple enemies at once using my energy attacks from my eyes and off hand, gouts of cosmic flame from my mouth, the Invincible Skulls, and by generating beams of blood red swordlight from my All-Black Necrosword. I battered enemies down with my mind both telepathically and telekinetically.

It was an awesome ballet of death, further joined by the All-Black turning the sleeves of my coat into extended tentacles capped in panther heads that not only breathed torrents of cosmic flame, and shot energy beams from their eyes, but also bit enemies in half and occasionally disengaged from my back to fully engulf a particularly hard fighting foe and completely consume them.

They dropped the first bomb on us when the goddess of victory met such a fate. What a rush. The Asguardian Vilturmites around me turned to dust and I needed to close distance to continue my beyblade like assault, and that is when the cannon fire started. MAC Cannons, Plasma Cannons, Turbo Lasers. The wizards I neutered earlier proved they specced into the engineer class when they unleashed every form of technological Hell the Flaxan Dimension created over the years due to my love of Team Four Star.

Damn Alucard for getting the saying 'Bitches love cannons' stuck so strongly into my head. No, that's ridiculous. Alucard was perfect, it is me who needs to be better.

Fortunately when you mixed energy absorption with barrier magic you arrive at some pretty stalwart defenses, and as my hands maintained my shields, my panther tentacles redirected the massive amounts of absorbed energy back to sender like a pair of Hadron Cannons complete with the explosive effects that signaled my enemies dying their horrid deaths off in the distance. Goddamn I did myself a disservice by holding off for so long on this Knull power up. This battle is fucking lit.

To be fair, my ongoing duel against the many cannons of the Flaxan Dimension interspersed with bouts of world shattering bombs getting dropped on me and some sweet sword fights finished destroying pretty much everything my efforts ever built in this dimension, but what a way to go out. I continued my ceaseless hunt for the Asgardians in a martial haze, relying on my highly developed sixth sense, my millennia of training, and the raw killer instinct in my bone, blood, and symbiote to guide me in my quest. Time held no meaning under that unending red sky and as the god of the void I needed no rest, only to kill.

I fought the Asgardian Viltrumites everywhere I found them, and those fuckers had truly embraced my full legacy like none other, meaning they were fucking everywhere. I destroyed them and their allies, and everything in the way of my success in this campaign. So when I finally came out of my autopilot of destruction mode I noticed a distinct lack of life in this dimension.

In front of me stood my son, Bron, and behind him stood one of my wretched grandsons with a sword to the base of his skull.

"Let me go!" he screamed, and I realized for the first time since my heroic debut I found myself in a genuine hostage situation with the life of a loved one on the line. The bad guy new my secret identity and has taken my son hostage. Whatever will I do? This is a real test of my progress as a hero. Will I be able to navigate this intense situation?

"His mother told me to bring him home, no matter what state he is in." I told my… grandson? Is he my grandson or have I already killed all those filthy bastards already while I was in the zone? "So you go right ahead."

Nailed it. Hero and father of the year rolled up into one.

My grandson? screamed and went for the stab, but failed to see the Invincible Skulls behind him that turned him into ash. With a snap of my fingers I nullified the enchantments on the nails in Bron's head, causing him to ragdoll to the ground like a puppet cut free of its strings.

"I never liked you, Bron." I told my son as I walked up to him and the All-Black formed a life support coffin around him which I hauled up onto my shoulder, "but… you know what, that's all I really have to say, son. I never liked you and I still don't. Your fucking lucky your mother has a cunt I'd rather not live without."

I sighed as I looked at the never ending wreckage of what was once my shining achievement. The proof that I was right, nananana boo boo. Now it was just a reminder of why people suck. Letting the All-Black take over hefting Bron's pod around, I freed up my hands for setting up and enchanting a bitching doomsday device that would collapse the dimension in on itself. Once more I set about my task with vigor as the All-Black sent out countless minions to scavenge the dimension for anything worth reclaiming, and when I finished I set myself up front row seats in the void between dimensions - a lovely little place of pure darkness and silence - and I watched the Flaxan Dimension transition into its next stage of being, a gorgeous red gemstone the size of a chimp's swollen testicles that sparkled in a show of nigh infinite depth.

A man can lose himself in the depths of that gem, and I indulged for a time. Bron of course recovered from the extraction of the nails in his head, screaming his lungs out inside a Vibranium Coffin in the infinite blackness of the void while I spaced out over how cool my new Universe Stone looks. Small though it may have been, the Flaxan Dimension lived on in a wondrous new form.

After sufficient time for Bron to lose his mind completely passed, we went home.