"Please be patient, Representative of the Order. The generals and councilors are still discussing critical matters regarding the Skrull front. As for your Order's commission payment, the Kree Empire will honor it in full. If you are dissatisfied with the territorial allocation, you may apply for a substitution..."
"Fine. Convert the territory into universal galactic credits. I'm done talking. Are you going to let me pass or not?"
"...Please continue to be patient, Representative. The Kree Empire hopes to maintain its friendship with your esteemed faction..."
"Ha." Selene smiled faintly.
Sounds nice. Isn't this just bundled sales tactics?
"Your Majesty."
At that moment, under the uneasy and vigilant gazes of the surrounding Kree guards, the son of the Sun God Surya spoke quietly through the Servant summoning network.
Whoom.
Though no wind stirred, the temperature in the room abruptly soared. Amid a declaration tinged with cold solemnity, radiant golden light burst forth within the Kree's highest-level reception chamber. His spiritual form dispersed. His hair flowed freely, pure white and almost indistinguishable from drifting snow.
Golden flecks shimmered within his emerald eyes. His gaze was as sharp as a polished spearhead.
Most striking of all was the golden armor that radiated divine brilliance. At the center of his exposed chest was a brilliant crimson gem embedded into his flesh, like the sun completing the final brushstroke of a painting. It complemented the radiating patterns of the golden armor, brewing a flush of almost enchanting red.
The golden spear let out a faint hum. Its blade pointed directly at the Kree guards present, cold light spilling outward, sharp enough to sting the eyes.
"Shall I be permitted to act?"
The Hero of Charity stood like a loyal sentinel, the sun-gold spear held horizontally before Selene.
"No interest." Selene nodded in satisfaction at the dazzling golden figure she had brought along purely for appearances—a shining "golden target."
A good Servant. The beauty of Little Sun was something only those who had used him could appreciate. One of the "Three Golden Targets," and by far the most worry-free for showmanship. As for the other two, bringing them along to negotiations would be tantamount to declaring war.
Straightening up, Selene cast a sidelong glance. "You'd better hurry. My time is valuable."
"My schedule is very tight."
The implication was clear—add more money.
"Your Excellency, this is already the most favorable clause..." The Kree officer understood, but he clearly bore his own mandate of budget reduction.
"Hmm?"
Selene stopped flipping the bounty verification card in her hand and examined her surroundings with interest.
She noticed it—these Kree were trembling.
It had nothing to do with willpower. It was the instinctive tension and fear of prey when facing a higher-tier predator.
Inherent Skill: [Scream of Fear]
But it still wasn't enough.
Bang.
Understanding her intent, Karna struck the butt of his spear against the ground at just the right moment. Flames surged, heat waves rolling outward. The Kree guards present were instantly drenched in sweat. The pressure was perfectly calibrated.
Forged in the high-gravity environment of their homeworld, the Kree might surpass the average lower limit of humanity. Their physical strength was several times greater, their resistance to harsh environments superior, their lifespans longer. But in the end, they were still mortals. Roughly fluctuating around Captain America's level.
At that very moment, just as the mid-ranking Kree officer responsible for handling the bounty commission was about to buckle under the pressure—
Clatter—
A formation of clearly more elite Super Kree soldiers filed in.
They stood on high alert, armed with energy pulse rifles and reflective shields, clad in silver-green power-feedback armor that enhanced combat performance. From Selene's perspective, their physical capabilities had already completely surpassed baseline human heroes. If the likes of Captain America, the Winter Soldier, Falcon, Hawkeye, or Black Widow came here, they would be walking straight into a slaughter.
Of course, that excluded those wielding cheat-level gear—like holding a "fifty-fifty" shield and Thor's hammer.
"I will personally discuss cooperation with the representative of the Divine Empress Order. Your authority is insufficient. Step aside."
Selene watched as a Kree Accuser, clad in black armor and helm similar to the one recorded on appearances at Knowhere and Xandar—Ronan's style—strode forward under guard, rebuking the officer who had previously been handling negotiations.
"Accuser" was not an exclusive title belonging to the Ronan who had been defeated by Star-Lord's absurd dance. It was an honorific for members of a Kree institution—the Accuser Corps, an organization that held military authority and upheld Kree law.
"My apologies, Your Excellency. Some minor issues have arisen on the front line," the Kree Accuser said.
"The Skrull scum are like that. Any slight slackness or mercy gives them an opening... Mm, please forgive Rozel. He lacks the authority to offer more favorable terms..."
Though the burly Accuser appeared at first glance to be a militant hardliner, his speech was measured and orderly.
Selene had no interest in exposing him.
The desire to gain advantage was one thing.
More likely, it was a test. The "Divine Empress Order" had appeared as if out of thin air. No records. No prior intelligence. Only recently had it surfaced in the Nova Empire's Xandar system, Knowhere, and the third spiral arm of the Milky Way, leaving traces of its presence.
The Kree Empire had no analytical reserves of information. They only knew the Order had sold two planet-destroying bombs on Xandar.
And when the Divine Empress Order swiftly wiped out a Skrull warlord, the Kree updated their internal assessment overnight. Hence the shift between routine handling and solemn reception.
A round of posturing, relationship-building, and apology later, the tense, sword-drawn atmosphere gradually dissipated.
Returning to the negotiation table, Selene gestured for them to continue.
As for the possibility of the Kree turning hostile, she found it unlikely.
When operating in the galactic arena—especially with a mortal enemy yet to be eliminated and rivals watching like tigers—the Kree Empire still had to uphold reason and credibility. It was no makeshift regime. Otherwise, Kree credibility across the cosmos would collapse.
Though striking at the Skrull homeworld looked glorious, the Kree were still short on fresh forces.
Their main fleets had to suppress domestic territories while maintaining massive mobile armadas to guard against the Shi'ar Empire. On the Andromeda front, Kree forces directly faced the final royal remnants of the Skrulls and the fierce counterattacks of various warlords. Nerves there were stretched to the limit.
A single pureblood Kree was practically wished into three pieces for use.
Take the commission the Master Chief accepted, for example. The Skrull warlord in that star system occupied a highly strategic position—not too near, not too far. His formidable interstellar fleet constantly threatened a key Kree supply line. Before the Divine Empress Order approached with an offer to eliminate the Skrulls, Kree commanders had been suffering a persistent headache over it.
Forcing reinforcements out bit by bit from various sectors, they endlessly debated whether to pull the thorn out once and for all, or maintain a tense standoff and wait until their available strength grew more abundant before striking.
Only when a foolish... ahem, righteous friend appeared did they finally entrust the heavy responsibility of removing that thorn to their friends in the "Anti-Skrull Alliance."
Surely the Kree Empire's Supreme Council—and even the Supreme Intelligence itself—hadn't collectively suffered some Showa-era staff officer brain rot?
Very quickly, after frank consultations, Selene and the Kree side fully exchanged views and achieved constructive results. In the end, territorial substitutions, fulfillment of commission payments, acceptance of new commission tasks, and a series of secondary agreements targeting the Skrulls were all signed in a cordial and friendly atmosphere.
"Since we are all friends, if possible, I believe your Order may find this intelligence of interest."
After transferring the newly signed and effective agreement to his adjutant, the Kree Accuser paused in thought. He then obtained access to the room's local network, lightly tapping the negotiation table's projector with his finger. His expression grew solemn as he looked toward Selene, who was likewise storing away the agreement.
"When I mentioned minor issues on the front line, it was no excuse... On the Andromeda K3—3049 sector front, my breakthrough assault fleet suffered a disastrous defeat."
The Accuser marked a star system's coordinates, then pulled up related data on the retreating fleet. Using the holographic projection system, he simulated the dynamic footage and cast it before Selene, indicating that she could inspect and download it herself.
"It may be related to you," he added.
"Oh?"
Selene took it and began reviewing it at high speed.
All of it was on-site footage—everything from space naval engagements to planetary landings and urban assault battles. No editing. No post-processing. And when she saw those half-flesh, half-metal organic warships and the numerous grotesque humanoid aliens who clearly did not resemble "law-abiding citizens"—
"Chitauri... Sakaarans... Outriders... the Black Order. Thanos?"
Selene's brows drew together slightly, a trace of confusion flickering across her face.
All of them were interstellar war races subordinate to the Black Order.
Instead of acting as the universe's family planning director and cheer squad captain for the Goddess of Death, spreading slaughter everywhere, what was Thanos doing entangling himself with the Skrulls?
Judging by the footage, the Black Order had aligned itself with the Skrulls. Even if not fully unified, they were at least temporary allies in spirit.
"You provoked that Mad Titan?" Selene looked toward the Kree Accuser, who stood with arms folded and a dark expression.
"More accurately, he provoked us."
The Accuser's expression resembled that of a man who stepped in dog filth while shopping with his girlfriend—worse, slipped and fell face-first into it. His face was sour.
"Us?"
Selene arched a brow. "Why don't you make yourself clearer?"
"That mad Titan is utterly unreasonable."
What kind of nonsense was that about the Skrulls having the right to live beneath the skies of a new world as well? After his so-called ritual was complete, half of all newly born children would be able to eat their fill beneath clear skies. Therefore, the Kree Empire could not exterminate the Skrulls. Something about rights of inheritance and continuity...
Listen to that. What kind of garbage was that?
You slaughter entire families at the slightest provocation. Your Dark Legion shows up and kills half as a greeting. So if someone provokes you, you wipe them out entirely. If they don't provoke you, killing half of them is "salvation." But when I've fought a ten-thousand-year bloody war and victory is finally in sight, you tell me I have to leave half alive?
He paused briefly. "From intercepted enemy communications, they mentioned your faction multiple times. This is the Black Order's declaration. They have named this operation 'Divine Grace' and 'Death's Redemption.'"
"..."
Selene stroked her chin. The crystalline vertical pupils of her eyes reflected lines of text and images from the screen. She let out a soft laugh. "Grace... redemption... There's a pointed undertone there. Is he preaching?"
"Divine Empress Order, Black Order. Is there some connection between you?"
The Kree Accuser leaned forward slightly, revealing an eager and hopeful look.
Though Thanos' self-proclaimed title of universal emperor was not recognized by interstellar powers, and the three great cosmic empires—now perhaps only two—treated him merely as a terrorist, a massive cosmic pirate conglomerate, one could not deny that his forces were enormous.
Practically a de facto fourth cosmic empire.
Simply one that was lopsided, lacking foundation, and excessively militaristic.
Upon hearing that Thanos had chosen to support the Skrull Empire, the Kree truly felt immense pressure. One misstep, and the Andromeda front could collapse, squandering their favorable momentum. Their generation would become sinners of Kree history.
"Regrettably, our Order's strength does not rival the Mad Titan's Black Order." Selene rubbed her brow.
What could she say?
The Divine Empress Order was not some light-versus-dark counterpart to the Black Order. The similarity in naming was genuinely coincidence.
Back then, out of caution, Master Chief John had surveyed the galactic situation and borrowed inspiration from certain Orders when naming Fleet 117 the Divine Empress Order. At least in John's view at the time, it was fitting. After all, they believed in the Divine Empress.
"I see."
The Kree Accuser looked somewhat disappointed. He believed her—but not entirely. Still, he maintained his enthusiasm. He had not held much hope to begin with.
"These are the relevant materials. There is a high probability that the Mad Titan will take action against your faction..." He packaged the frontline intelligence concerning the Black Order's appearance and slid it toward Selene for her to review and download.
"Then, happy cooperation."
The Accuser rose to take his leave. Storming the ancestral home of a ten-thousand-year enemy was exhilarating—but also exhausting. His military duties were far from light.
"Happy cooperation."
Her smile grew far more meaningful. Selene quietly downloaded the files, then picked up the commission payment verification card from the table.
"Thanos targeting John? Interesting. Is it because of the Gemstone—or faith... Never mind. We were bound to clash sooner or later. Since you've come knocking, I'll have to find a way to fire a shot at you first..."
Stepping out of the Kree's celestial war fortress, the Beast Goddess spread her wings and soared. Amid the howling gale, she narrowed her eyes and gazed up at the dark, variegated starry sky, murmuring to herself.
After a long while—
"Esdeath, big job. Stop leading your field unit in guerrilla skirmishes. I'm sending you the coordinates for the Andromeda K3—3049 sector. Take your people and chop off the hand Thanos has extended. Consider it a greeting between peers."
"Forward the spoils to the Master Chief. Mm... all of it."
"Karna, let's go. We're heading to Earth to retrieve something else."
...
Silence.
Within this boundless supreme space, where neither dimension nor expanse could be discerned, four presences clearly existed—similar, yet fundamentally different.
"...Death... your apostle is prying open a conflict that may spread across the omnipotent multiverse."
Within the drifting silence, a majestic and solemn voice resounded.
There was not a trace of joy or anger in it, as though the infinite possibilities of the universe were unfolding here, drowning out all fragmented noise and static that pierced through dimensions.
"Eternity, this is his choice."
What answered was a voice both soft and hoarse—half soul-piercingly seductive, half rasping and vicious. It sounded like the wind sliced apart by a scythe's swing, yet also like the voice of a coldly beautiful woman steeped in morbid allure.
"A variable within controllable bounds."
"The newborn First Firmament... Its apostle grows within our garden... It... gives... we... return..."
Another grand presence joined the exchange. Enchanting and mature, a dim, hazy, full-bodied silhouette stretched endlessly behind a veil before vanishing in an instant.
"The Tribunal has not judged. All remains within the rules. Just as we permit the extraction by His apostle... The omnipotent universe requires variables. It requires new possibilities."
The final voice echoed—faint, parched, annihilating.
"So be it."
...
Earth, North American East Coast.
Dust, grime, and the scent of decay formed the underlying tone of this aging, half-abandoned laboratory.
"Fuu..." A weak, listless cry.
"Shh. Quiet, Fou. They're here."
Suppressing the ambiguous low whimper of the small canine creature, Merlin cast a concealment spell and hid within an upper-level partition of the laboratory. He nodded toward the Imperial tactical squad crouched in the shadows around the building, already in optical camouflage.
Through the window, Merlin silently observed the group of street thugs who had come prepared with tools, clearly intending to pick locks and break in.
Tap. Tap-tap...
Faint yet stealthy footsteps mingled with the sound of crowbars against wood splinters. An old glass window rattled from impact. A door latch, long deprived of oil, let out a clear creeeak in the hollow silence.
Moments later, with boards creaking underfoot, four slovenly men in ragged clothes entered the laboratory, some holding baseball bats, others wielding crowbars.
"This place is a dump. You sure there's anything worth taking?"
They muttered indistinctly. Rolled-up sleeves revealed arms riddled with needle marks and injection scars. Their bodies were gaunt, nearly fleshless. Their eyes were dull and vacant.
Their identities were unmistakable—
Addicts. Longtime junkies, deep into the disease.
"Hope so. It's an old chemistry lab. Should be plenty of antique stuff. Might fetch some money..."
One man pointed toward the bottles and instruments on the benches, as well as rows of iron-bound cabinets lining the wall.
"There's gotta be painkillers, right? Lab rats and stuff... If it's old enough, maybe some meds weren't even restricted back then... Hiss—hah, I can't hold out much longer. Damn the White House, fuck Washington. All they do is squeeze taxpayers dry, jack up prices... even restrict by region. I've never even had the legit experience once."
"Alcohol—formalin... Hey, hey, look at this! What's this?! Morphine... morphine? Demerol? Oh my God, there's even ibuprofen! New stuff! That bald old bastard—we didn't stake him out for nothing. He really stocked up!"
Suddenly, one of them pressed against a tall glass-fronted cabinet and cried out.
"What? What is it?"
The other two rummaging nearby rushed over at once, startled and excited.
They tried to pick the lock. Whether from excitement or withdrawal, their hands trembled too violently to grip properly. With no key available, one addict lifted his crowbar and smashed the glass outright. Ignoring the shards, not caring what the drugs were, he stuffed whatever he could into his pockets.
"Hey, Reynolds, get over here! Did you bring a bag? I can't carry all this... Hey, Robert Reynolds!"
Disheveled, hair like a yellowed bird's nest, thinner and shorter than average for this part of America, Robert Reynolds stood staring blankly at a test tube rack on the workbench.
In one of the tubes was a dose of some golden, faintly turbid liquid.
"I've got..."
Hearing his companion call, Robert Reynolds began to turn his head.
"Ugh—"
Suddenly, withdrawal struck. His fingers cramped. His limbs convulsed. A longtime addict with an already unstable mind, he shoved whatever he could find into his mouth. Eyes wild, he grabbed the golden test tube and downed it in one gulp.
Gulp.
Thud.
Watching Robert Reynolds collapse sideways after drinking, scattering laboratory equipment across the floor, Merlin—who had just begun forming a spell—exchanged a look with the small creature in his arms.
That was it?
No. Wait—!
"Oh, by the gluttony of Altria!"
The nightmare's eyes widened. In his shock, he nearly flung the small beast from his grasp.
What had he just seen?
That scrawny junkie—within a single instant—his muscles swelled and bulged, more compact and refined than even the Hulk's. At the same time, his aura surged exponentially.
Even Merlin felt a pressure he had never experienced before.
—
—
40 Advanced Chapters Available on Patreon:
Patreon.com/DaoOfHeaven