Thanos, Dead!

"Alas..."

Thanos sat alone on the railing before his small cabin, gazing at the breathtaking pastoral landscape before him, and suddenly let out a long sigh.

To reach this outcome, he had lost far too much. No one could understand his ideals—not even Gamora and Nebula...

He raised his left hand. The Infinity Gauntlet that had once been worn on it was gone, along with the six Infinity Stones.

Terrifying scorch scars, brown-black like solidified lava, covered his entire arm, stretching up to his neck and the side of his face, then down toward his left leg.

They were an insignificant side effect of that snap, but that snap alone had not caused injuries this severe.

After that...

Even with the powerful physique of a Deviant Eternal, Thanos's body had suffered injuries that were nearly impossible to recover from.

But it had all been worth it. Now, he could finally lay down conquest and war, take off his scarred tyrant's armor, and prop it up with cross-shaped wooden poles so that it stood like a scarecrow, silently guarding the fields Thanos had cultivated beside the cabin.

Yet compared to a scarecrow, it was more a memorial to the former cosmic tyrant. He had shed all glory and cast aside every distraction.

Now, all that remained was a wounded, ailing old man living out his days alone, quietly waiting at the boundary between peace and nature.

Having achieved his ideal, Thanos no longer needed the Infinity Gauntlet or the power of the six Infinity Stones. He could even disband the army he had once been so proud of.

Mere external power could simply be discarded.

Only to prevent anyone from using that power again to achieve something detrimental to the current perfect state of affairs, Thanos had used the six Infinity