The army's ruddy, horned warriors howl, and as one they launch their spears. Sickly, dark-glowing energy bubbles within each haft. There are hundreds of spears, clustered into a vast cloud, too many to dodge or parry --

Thor spins Mjölnir low and fast, drawing on its energy and his own to build together in a crackling rush. He slams the hammer to the ground, a great overhead swing that carries him down to one knee and sends a shockwave exploding outwards from the small protected circle of this group.

Rocks crumble. The very air smells scorched. But the spears pass through, utterly unhindered.

Illusion. Illusion, almost certain. But -- but the look of that black-orange energy --

Thor spins and throws himself towards Spider-Man. He's tough, X will heal; these two are human, so far as he knows.