Marvel: Death Knight

On the other side of the portal lay a dim and desolate world. Above, perpetual storm clouds churned, flashing with occasional streaks of lightning. The oppressive atmosphere weighed heavily on anyone who stepped foot there.

Garus observed his surroundings, noting the pervasive presence of resentful souls wailing their unfulfilled desires. These spirits, seemingly unable to enter the realm of the dead, suffused the air with an aura of death and despair.

It was no surprise. After years of devastating conflict—first targeting mutants with the relentless Sentinels, then extending to humans harboring latent X-genes—the death toll had reached catastrophic levels, numbering in the billions.

The powerful Sentinels proved too much for either humans or mutants to withstand. Society crumbled, and human civilization teetered on the brink of extinction. Beneath the soil of this barren land, countless corpses lay buried.

If Mephisto were to discover this realm, he would undoubtedly be ecstatic, eager to harvest these anguished souls.

As Garus contemplated this grim reality, an unexpected figure appeared behind him: Pietro Maximoff, also known as Quicksilver.

With a mix of exasperation and disbelief, Garus asked, "What are you doing here?"

Pietro, seemingly unfazed, glanced around in astonishment. "Where is this place?"

The portal behind them had already closed. Garus extended his senses toward the Death Gate spatial marker he'd established in the alternate universe. While a faint connection remained, reactivating it would require significant energy to pierce the spatial barriers—and even then, it seemed possible only near this rift.

He sighed inwardly. Pietro's strength should suffice; he likely wouldn't be in too much danger.

Nearby, Logan crouched to embrace Professor Charles Xavier.

For the X-Men of this world, only a few hours had passed. But for Logan, who had spent over a year in another universe, the reunion carried emotional weight.

From behind, Kitty Pryde asked, "Are we still going ahead with the original plan?"

Before Professor Xavier could respond, the distant roar of engines interrupted them. The group turned to see an ominous swarm of aircraft blotting out the sky, closing in from all directions.

Garus looked up and noted the peculiar designs of the aircraft. Their hatches opened, releasing a torrent of Sentinels that swarmed like locusts toward their position.

"Prepare for battle!" Logan roared, unsheathing his Adamantium claws. Ororo Munroe—Storm—rose into the air, her eyes glowing white with power.

Garus issued commands to his Death Knights.

Abomination roared, his body swelling like an inflating balloon. His immaculate suit shredded as he transformed into a blood-red giant radiating ferocious energy. In his massive hands, Sentinels crumpled like tin cans.

Meanwhile, Kingpin, after more than a year of rigorous training, had grown far beyond his former self. Wielding a custom-made metal cane inscribed with runes of death, he summoned a host of gargoyles from his spell array, each creature imbued with malevolent energy.

Yet the Death Knights' abilities, optimized for combating organic beings with souls, were less effective against the soulless Sentinels.

Garus, wielding Frostmourne, tapped into the swirling souls that permeated the air. As the weapon absorbed these spirits, he channeled their power into himself.

A cold wind began to swirl around him. Invisible souls transformed into visible white energy, spiraling into a vortex around Garus. His eyes glowed with an icy white brilliance, the surging power filling him with exhilaration.

"This is incredible," he thought, a gleeful smile forming on his face. Though the collected souls were not those of powerful entities, their sheer volume elevated his strength to unprecedented levels.

"Hahahaha!" Garus laughed, his Frostmourne radiating palpable death energy. With a swing of the blade, an oncoming Sentinel was cleaved cleanly in two. Around him, massive ice spikes erupted from the ground, impaling Sentinels with devastating precision.

The X-Men watched in astonishment. The Sentinels, seemingly unstoppable, were powerless against this mysterious figure.

A cracking sound suddenly drew Garus's attention. He glanced down at Frostmourne, fearing it had sustained damage, but the blade remained intact.

"Release me. Let me reshape this world," a childlike voice, chilling and filled with malice, echoed from the sword.

Garus recognized the voice as Frostmourne's spirit, its seal likely broken by the immense surge of power. Though her tone carried a hint of petulance, Garus silenced her with a forceful command, bolstered by his amplified soul energy. The spirit's voice subsided, though it lingered with an air of resentment.

Fortunately, the others were too preoccupied fending off the Sentinels to notice his interaction with the blade—except Charles Xavier, whose wary gaze lingered on Garus.

With the spirit's seal broken, Frostmourne seemed more alive, its power even greater than before. Garus unleashed five simultaneous Death Grips, dragging several Sentinels into his reach. The blade's edge glinted as it sliced through the machines with surgical precision.

Though blood and necrotic energy had no effect on the Sentinels, Garus relied on frost magic to dismantle them.

Despite Garus's aid, along with Abomination and Kingpin's assistance, the relentless Sentinel assault forced the defenders into an increasingly tight circle. The sheer number of enemies was overwhelming.

Garus realized he needed reinforcements.

Planting Frostmourne into the ground, he channeled death energy into the soil. Corpses and skeletons began to rise, their decayed forms animated by his power. Zombies, skeletons, and even towering stitched monstrosities clawed their way to the surface.

Summoning circles flared to life as Garus called forth undead creatures from another world. Ghouls, Crypt Lords, wailing Banshees, and even a hovering Lich joined the fray.

Garus marveled at the scene, momentarily wondering if he had recreated Azeroth's Scourge Army. With an endless supply of soul energy at his disposal, he continued summoning his undead legion, their stench of decay permeating the battlefield.

Though these tactics temporarily turned the tide, Garus knew such overwhelming soul energy wouldn't always be available. For now, however, he reveled in the carnage, wielding his growing power with unrestrained joy.

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