Arishem arrived without warning.
There was no boom tube, no ritual, no herald. Space itself simply ceased to behave correctly above Earth. Light bent inward, stars stretching into impossible lines as a presence of such scale and authority pressed into local reality that physics surrendered out of instinct.
Every sensor on Earth screamed at once.
The sky darkened, not from shadow, but from perspective. Arishem's form emerged piece by piece, colossal beyond reason, armor etched with cosmic judgment, eyes burning with the weight of civilizations measured and discarded. His arrival alone fractured spacetime, gravity tides rippling across orbit, oceans shuddering beneath invisible stress.
Alex felt him instantly.
Not as a threat, but as an accusation.
"You have interfered," Arishem spoke, his voice not carried by sound but imposed directly upon existence itself. "A Celestial gestation has been disrupted. A judgment delayed."
Before Alex could respond, the World Engines reacted.
The six guardians transformed.
Their planetary shells unfolded, ancient Kryptonian geometry rewriting itself in real time under All-Spark authority. What had once been engines of destruction became colossal sentinels, each rivaling Arishem's scale, their cores blazing with controlled stellar output and awakened intellect.
They positioned themselves instinctively, forming a defensive hex around Earth and Cybertron, gravitational fields interlocking, reality stabilizers flaring to compensate for Arishem's presence.
The first clash was not physical.
It was conceptual.
Arishem's will pressed forward, attempting to overwrite the guardians' purpose. The guardians responded not with resistance, but identity. They were no longer tools. They were protectors.
Energy collided.
Space cracked.
Entire segments of the orbital plane fractured into cascading probability faults. Light-years of vacuum compressed and rebounded like elastic, shockwaves tearing through distant asteroid belts. On Earth, skies rippled as if reality itself were water struck by a hammer.
Tony Stark watched from the station, face pale. "Okay," he said quietly, "that's officially above my pay grade."
Doctor Strange was already reinforcing the planet with layered mystic seals, sweat beading at his brow. "If this continues," he warned, "the local spacetime lattice will collapse. Not just Earth. The surrounding sector."
Alex moved.
He did not teleport. He asserted presence.
Reality folded around him as he appeared between Arishem and the guardians, his form infinitesimal by comparison yet absolute in authority. He raised one hand.
The guardians froze instantly.
Not halted by force, but by command.
"Stand down," Alex said calmly.
They obeyed.
Arishem's gaze shifted fully to him now, cosmic eyes narrowing. "You are not Celestial," Arishem declared. "Yet you wield authority over creation engines. You interfere with processes older than your universe."
Alex did not argue.
Instead, space opened beside him, and a containment field unfolded. Within it rested Tiamut, reduced, dormant, intact. A Celestial unborn, preserved rather than destroyed.
"I removed him to prevent planetary annihilation," Alex said. "Not to deny Celestial law."
Arishem regarded the suspended form in silence. Time itself seemed to pause under that scrutiny.
"You altered the outcome," Arishem said at last. "But you did not extinguish potential."
"That was intentional."
Another long pause.
Then Arishem extended one vast hand, cosmic energy enveloping the containment field. Tiamut was drawn back, reclaimed without resistance.
"Your action has postponed judgment," Arishem intoned. "This world will be evaluated again."
With that, Arishem withdrew.
Space reasserted itself as the Celestial departed, fractures sealing, cosmic pressure dissipating like a receding tide. The stars snapped back into proper alignment. Earth breathed again.
The guardians reverted, their transformed forms folding inward, systems stabilizing. Alex remained suspended in space for a moment longer, eyes closed, processing.
Tony's voice came through the channel. "So… good news, bad news?"
"Good news," Alex replied. "Earth still exists."
"And the bad?"
"Celestials are now aware of my methods."
Back aboard the station, Alex moved to the forge sanctum, already integrating the data he had acquired. During the encounter, he had scanned Arishem's structure in full. Not imitation. Understanding. Celestial anatomy, energy circulation, judgment matrices, cosmic-scale durability models.
He did not need to escalate next time.
He would adapt.
The guardians' transformation protocols updated instantly, incorporating Celestial-scale combat heuristics, improved reality anchoring, and higher-order cognition layers. They would not rush to battle again. They would endure it.
Doctor Strange watched the updates finalize. "You just prevented a war," he said. "And prepared for one anyway."
Alex nodded. "Deterrence is more effective than defiance."
"And if Arishem returns?"
Alex looked out toward the stars, toward the fractures beyond.
"Then Earth will not face him unprepared."
Far away, beyond perception, the universe re-calibrated its expectations.
For the second time in recent memory, a force meant to judge worlds had been forced to reconsider one.
And Alex Price continued building.