The light contracted.
It did not go out. It collapsed inward, like the singularity at the universe's birth, drawing all light, all energy, and all laws into that single point on the Infinity Gauntlet.
Then it released.
There was no explosion, no shock wave, only an invisible ripple spreading from the gauntlet across the entire universe.
Everyone on the battlefield felt it.
It was an indescribable sensation—as though something had been "reset," as though misaligned gears had clicked back into place, as though a flawed script had been erased and rewritten.
Peter Parker suddenly felt lighter, as though a heavy burden had been lifted from him. He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. They felt real and strong.
T'Challa felt the old wound in his chest stop aching—the spot where Corvus Glaive had stabbed him five years ago. Although it had healed, it always ached faintly on rainy days. Now that pain was gone.
Nebula's body began to tremble. She watched her mechanical prosthetics—the parts Thanos had forcibly implanted to control and punish her—begin to spark, then fall away piece by piece, revealing fresh flesh beneath. Her own flesh.
And Thanos...
Thanos stopped in front of Bruce Banner, his outstretched right hand frozen in midair.
He looked down at his left hand. The four stones on his Infinity Gauntlet were rapidly dimming. No, not merely dimming—the stones themselves were becoming transparent, as though dissolving into the air.
He raised his head and looked at the gauntlet on Bruce Banner's right hand.
The Six Stones shone brilliantly.
Time went back thirty seconds.
Thanos charged toward the base like a madman.
There was no finesse to his charge, no strategy, only pure strength and speed. His purple body tore forward like a cannonball, smashing every obstacle in his path—collapsed concrete