A Dance of gods and Mortals
In a place where the earth was being torn by men and women with destructive powers, two opposing sides faced each other in a titanic struggle. Death reaped souls every second, and in this legendary battlefield, even the weakest could destroy small mountains with their bare hands yet died with a startling ease. Over this apocalyptic scene, a man shrouded with a black and dark aura stood emotionlessly, surveying the carnage below. It was as if a living shadow had come to life, pulsating with an unfathomable malevolence.
On the other side, a woman bathed in a white milky aura confronted the dark figure, her body radiating a pure and divine essence. As they clashed, their tremendous power shaking the very foundations of the earth, people tried to flee from their confrontation, but it was too late. The impact of their struggle sent cataclysmic waves across the battlefield, leaving destruction and death in their wake. Death danced in this place of nightmares, singing his lullaby of the end to all those unfortunate enough to be caught in the crossfire.
The earth and the heavens cried out in pain and anger, yet were powerless to intervene. However, a bone-chilling growl resonated through the air, sending shivers down the spines of even the two godly beings locked in combat.
*GROOOWWL*
From the sky, something immense and oppressive descended, an ancient and powerful presence that demanded submission.
It was a behemoth, its body spanning kilometers, its whitish skin a stark contrast to the blood-soaked soil beneath it. Its gaze alone silenced even the most courageous warriors, and the battlefield grew deadly quiet. The two divine beings, their proud demeanor shattered, fell to the earth and bowed before the colossal entity, their trembling bodies betraying their fear.
The behemoth moved with a will that transcended mortal comprehension, and in an instant, it erased all traces of the battle from existence. The two divine humans and their armies vanished, leaving only the scarred and desolate landscape as a testament to their struggle. With a final growl, the entity began to reverse the damage, as if time itself had been rewound. The behemoth, its purpose fulfilled, soared back towards the heavens, leaving a small part of the earth untouched as a reminder to future generations of the cost of such hubris.
In the present, a purple-skinned creature closed a book and pondered on what he had just read. It had been more than a week since he had found refuge with a family of farmers, learning much about the world he now inhabited. It was a world built upon the ashes of a destroyed plane, where the weakest cultivators of the past would be revered in this new era. For the Mad Titan, it was truly fascinating.
The reason he had been so easily accepted by the farmer's family was due to his unique appearance. People believed he was a cultivator who had learned an incomplete technique and suffered side effects as a result. The idea that he was a cultivator was reinforced by the presence of other humans who could fly on swords and exotic creatures, which reminded him of the xianxia and other Chinese materials he had encountered in his past life. Thanos couldn't help but wonder if his original world was the source of everything.
The voice in his head urged him to stop overthinking and leave the room. The titan complied, stepping out into the warm embrace of the early morning sun. His objectives were becoming clearer: he sought to gain as many advantages as possible from this extraordinary opportunity. His mastery of the Space Stone grew daily, as did his thirst for the power he could obtain in this strange new world.