THE LAST LINE BEFORE THE STORM
The sky above the battlefield was holding its breath.
Thor stood at the center of the scorched plain, Stormbreaker humming in his grip, lightning crawling up his armor in thin blue threads. Behind him, the ruined towers of the old city cut jagged shapes against the clouds. In front of him, the horizon was moving.
It wasn't an army so much as a tide.
Thousands of dark shapes poured over the hills, howling, shrieking, and hammering their weapons against their shields.
"That's a lot of them," said Rocket, hefting a rifle nearly as big as he was. "Like, a lot a lot. I want it on record that I called this a bad idea."
"It's on record," Thor said calmly.
"I am Groot," said Groot, stepping up on his other side. The young sapling had grown tall and lanky, his bark scarred from a dozen fights, his branches twitching with nervous energy.
"He says he's ready," Rocket translated.
"He's lying. He's terrified. We all are. Let's do it anyway."
Thor almost smiled. "Stay close. Whatever happens, no one breaks the line."
The first wave hit like a wall of thunder.
Thor didn't wait for it to reach him. He swung Stormbreaker in a long, brutal arc and the sky answered, a spear of white lightning tearing down through the clouds and detonating in the front ranks. The ground shook. Bodies flew. Smoke rolled across the plain, and out of it the second rank charged without slowing.
Rocket opened fire. Streams of burning light tore through the dust, and he scrambled across a boulder, reloading faster than anyone should be able to. "Left flank! Left flank! Why is nobody listening to me?"
Groot slammed both fists into the dirt.
Roots exploded outward in a thrashing wave, snaring ankles and flinging attackers into the air. He caught one in a mass of vines, spun him around, and hurled him back into his own line. "I am Groot!" he roared, and for the first time, it sounded like a battle cry.
For a few glorious minutes, the line held.
Then the sky went dark.
A shadow fell across the battlefield, and something enormous landed in the middle of the enemy ranks, shaking the earth like a dropped mountain. It was a beast in black iron, three times the height of Thor, with a mask of cracked horn and a chain of glowing runes wrapped around its fists. It surveyed the three of them, and it laughed, a sound like grinding stone.
"The Thunder God," it rumbled. "Bound to a tree and a rodent."
"Rodent," Rocket muttered. "Okay, that one stings."
The beast charged. Thor met it head-on, Stormbreaker screaming against a fist the size of a car, and the impact blasted a crater into the plain. He staggered, boots skidding through the dirt. Another blow caught him across the chest and sent him tumbling. Lightning flickered, sputtered, and dimmed.
"Thor!" Rocket shouted.
The beast raised both fists above its head, chains blazing, ready to finish it.
Groot moved.
He didn't think. He just ran, branches stretching, bark cracking, and planted himself between Thor and the falling strike.
He threw up both arms and the roots of every tree he could reach, every blade of grass, every buried seed beneath the scorched earth, answered him. A living shield of wood and vine wove itself above his head.
The fists struck. The shield shattered. Groot cried out, driven to one knee, but he didn't fall.
"Now, Rocket!" Thor roared, scrambling to his feet.
"I'm already on it!" Rocket had climbed up Groot's back, rifle braced on the sapling's shoulder, and he fired a single concentrated shot straight into the beast's mask. The horn cracked. The creature reeled backward, blinded.
Thor stepped forward and raised Stormbreaker to the sky.