Things happened within the span of a few breaths.
A god of the mortal world had fallen before he was ever truly born.
Click.
Amid the collapsed and sunken laboratory complex—now resembling the aftermath of a suicide bombing—the sharp locking sound of handcuffs and the low hum of suppressor force fields activating rang out.
"No, you can't treat me like this! I'm an American citizen... I'm not a felon! You can't drug me and torture me for a confession... Aaaah—ow, ow, ow—easy! Take it easy!"
"Oh my God!"
"Is this my body? What did you do to me? This is illegal human experimentation... I'm innocent, I didn't commit a felony, sob... am I going to die? You're breaking the law, I'm going to sue you..."
Smack.
Before the man could finish, an Imperial tactical squad member stationed at Earth's tax-source territory—face dark—brought his rifle butt down on the blond, burly man whose body had been perfectly compliant, even if his mouth never stopped running.
"Shut up!"
Watching Robert Reynolds—handcuffed, injected with sedatives and suppressants, and finally subdued after a few rifle-butts and kicks—the squad members exchanged speechless glances.
Smooth movements. Slick legal jargon. He had probably been inside before—a repeat offender.
In America, federal criminal law generally treats theft involving $1,000 or more as a felony, though specifics vary by state. In other words, if the amount is below $1,000, it often does not qualify as a felony and usually results in only brief detention and a few days of "education."
And yet this kind of social refuse—too cowardly to commit serious crimes, endlessly cycling through petty offenses—had stumbled upon a stroke of heavenly fortune. Not only had his body, hollowed out by indulgence and decay, been healed, but his physical qualities had also been harmlessly enhanced.
What a waste... Heaven truly had no eyes.
The squad member who had delivered the rifle butt and injected enough tranquilizer to drop an elephant had every right to say so.
Though they did not understand exactly what had happened, the explosive energy source that had been increasing at a geometric rate within Robert Reynolds had indeed vanished. Yet the transformation of his flesh had occurred right before their eyes.
In less than half a minute, he had gone from a gaunt, slovenly veteran addict to a figure like a marble statue—tall, broad, golden-haired, almost sculptural.
At least, that was how it looked.
"What do we do with him? Obviously, the item Commander Gorgon ordered us to guard was swallowed by this guy."
Only now did they understand why Merlin had arranged for personnel to guard this old, nearly abandoned laboratory that housed nothing but an elderly doctor who could not even afford an assistant.
Just look at this junkie. Those robust, surging muscles—he looked stronger than any of them.
"Can we dilute and extract it from his stomach? From his blood? His cells?"
The tactical squad spoke in Imperial Standard. Robert Reynolds could not understand a word. But for some reason, his long-blunted instincts—dulled by years of drug abuse—still sensed it.
Malice.
Whatever they were saying, it was not good.
"My goddess, it seems you have already handled everything. What a pity... I had thought such a marvelous occurrence would become a grand feast—a true clash of dragons and tigers."
Merlin looked disappointed. Spreading his hands, he glanced at the increasingly profound and mysterious aura of the Beast Goddess beside him. As he studied her, a grave furrow formed between his handsome brows. In his arms, the hidden violet-eyed little beast bristled with fur standing on end.
"If it were a 'feast,' I wouldn't be telling you this."
A pale golden halo swayed in her palm, rippling with golden-red flames that mirrored the glow in her pupils.
"I would skin you alive and grind your bones to ash. Nightmares don't die so easily. I'd make sure you experienced each of the ten great tortures, one by one."
Selene snorted lightly. Her voice was brisk and almost playful, yet the words she spoke sent a chill down the spine. The energy fluctuations dispersing around them gradually faded. In the ensuing stillness, only the flames on her scaled, vulture-like wings continued to flicker and dance.
"Ahem, ahem... The result is good... Milady, please don't say such spine-chilling things. It's quite frightening."
Casting a sideways glance at the white-furred Nightmare who coughed as if about to cough out a lung—smiling brightly, blinking, his tone brimming with pride—Selene shook her head and could not help but laugh.
"Enough. Don't try those lines you use on Artoria on me. Deal with him."
She pointed at Robert Reynolds, who had fainted once more under the effects of medication strong enough to overpower even his enhanced physique.
The greatest treasure brought by the 'Sentry serum'—
At the perfect collision of two near-zero probabilities, the molecular restructuring and phase shift that had occurred within Robert Reynolds had generated an entrance—an anchoring 'door' connected to a newborn universe.
Selene had taken it.
The road to godhood had been stolen.
The adaptability to primordial universal energy had completely detached from him and dissipated. Yet the physical transformation achieved in that instant would not disappear.
Not only had his severely depleted body been restored to health, but his physical functions were now several times that of an ordinary person. Though still within mortal limits—no energy projection, no earth-shaking potential of a god among men.
Even so, it was enough to overpower the likes of Captain America, Hawkeye, Falcon, Black Widow, and other so-called ordinary superhumans.
That was also why he had endured the "gentle" restraining force of the Empire's "supermen" without injury and without being knocked unconscious. For a truly normal person, even a light slap would have resulted in baby-like sleep.
Of course, combat held too many uncertainties.
Robert Reynolds' foundation was far too poor. He had not adapted to or mastered his own body at all. At the mere sight of a gun pointed at him, he had smoothly dropped to the ground with hands raised in surrender. The subsequent shouting had merely been the habitual complaints of a repeat offender familiar with the law.
There had not been the slightest intention to resist.
"The way of heaven cannot alter the greater trend, but the lesser trends may be changed." Selene shook her head and smiled.
The birth of the Sentry—or more precisely, the birth of the Sentry's power—was a major current in the fabric of the universe. That could not be changed. But who the Sentry would be, who would host that power—that was a lesser current.
If everything were truly fixed and immutable, the Marvel universe would become stagnant—nothing but an endless cycle without quantitative or qualitative change.
That was not something the five cosmic creators, the Living Tribunal, or even the Supreme Above would wish to see.
The emergence of life, the exercise of life's subjective initiative, the generation of greater possibilities and infinite extension—these had always been the underlying tone of the universe's march toward higher levels. The sublimation of the cosmos required life, no matter what kind—good, evil, wicked, mad, or incomprehensible.
A universe steeped in deathly stillness and stagnation held no meaning.
The one who drank the 'Sentry serum' and, amid two impossibilities among impossibilities, connected to the 'Power of the Sentry' was Robert Reynolds—and could only have been him.
If anyone else had drunk it, it would have been no more than sweet water, or a bout of diarrhea, or poisoning... or they would simply have exploded and died.
Yet likewise, once the 'Power of the Sentry' connected—especially in those earliest moments when it linked with the fragile, fate-bound host Robert Reynolds—the Sentry had not yet fully been born. Nothing was fixed. Everything remained possible.
This operable window was extremely brief. Once the Sentry fully awakened, once the 'door' anchor solidified and the newborn universe acknowledged its master... the lesser current would also become the greater current.
And that was precisely Selene's advantage.
She knew the cause and effect of the matter. She knew how to seize this exceedingly precious opportunity and act upon it. Most crucial of all, this Beast Goddess incarnation of hers—supplemented by two Infinity Stones—possessed the leverage to move a thousand pounds with four ounces.
"Haa... This body really is an outrageous blend of traits."
She lifted a hand to tidy her hair, which had now become a flowing cascade of white, violet, gold, red, and black—shimmering in layered gradients like a galaxy. Her purple fingernails traced along her smooth, flawless skin.
Tch. A bit chaotic, perhaps—but the effect was undeniably excellent.
"This rate of amplification... Sentry... hah, it truly is absurd."
With every breath, she was growing stronger. Truly—eating, drinking, idling about, doing absolutely nothing of importance—she would still grow stronger...
As the 'Power of the Sentry' encompassed the universal mana particles, Servant spiritrons, and chaotic mana within her body—and circled around the Mind and Time Gemstones, sorting through the faint strands of cosmic energy drifting through her perception—Selene observed the changes within this Servant vessel.
Each spiritron seemed to collapse inward, forming a hollow—like half of an abyssal 'door.'
From within those 'doors,' faint golden mist-like particles drifted outward, permeating the Beast Goddess' body—neither blood nor not-blood, shimmering with rippling light.
She discovered that even chaotic mana—normally a form of magic requiring enlightenment and long study—had been stirred into imperceptible growth.
As expected of a power formed by mobilizing the refined energy of an entire newborn universe and channeling it through a special operational method—the 'Power of the Sentry.'
It was worthy of significant study and imitation by her [Eternity] incarnation and her true body—applicable to the architectural framework of that still-young sub-omniversal cosmos she was constructing.
Selene's lips curled upward. Joy glimmered within her serpentine pupils.
It was equivalent to obtaining the most precious treasure upon Earth.
As for the fact that within Earth's core lay the gestating embryo of a Celestial—and that scattered across Earth were still remnants of Thanos' kin, members of the Eternals lingering on in decline—
Selene had no intention of touching them.
Behind them stood the Celestials, the Judge Arishem, and further still Eternity, the Living Tribunal... There was simply no need. Everything was mutually beneficial, harmonious, and tacitly understood. Why would she stir up trouble within the rules for no reason?
Would that not simply hand them an excuse to interfere?
As for the rest—
Whether Captain America, Black Widow, and the other superhumans transferred to U.S. government custody would be prosecuted or reinstated... how Nick Fury's true self would respond before the White House regarding the Skrull affair... what would become of agents like Hawkeye and Ant-Man who had accepted the Accords... how Jane Foster as the new Thor, Spider-Man, Daredevil, and other street-level heroes would react... how hidden villainous organizations like Hydra would maneuver... what corporations such as Oscorp, the Life Foundation, and Advanced Idea Mechanics would attempt...
None of it had anything to do with her.
Let the winds blow from east, west, south, or north—if anyone dared provoke the Order, she would cut them down.
"Merlin, guard the tax-source territory with Saitama. Earth is very important to us."
Handing Robert Reynolds over to Merlin—and casting a distant glance toward Kamar-Taj—Selene rendezvoused with Karna and flew straight out of the Solar System.
...
Meanwhile, within the dominion of the Nine Realms of Asgard, in deep space along the route between Asgard and the Midgard star region—the Solar System.
The ferocious scars left by molten metal gradually solidified upon gray chest armor. The ambush by his sister Hela, his time stranded on Sakaar, the destruction of Asgard—Thor Odinson had learned much. He knew he needed his people. He needed his brother's help to properly inherit what his late father had left behind.
But—
"Loki!"
Bang!
The wind of the punch howled. Rotting flesh and shattered bone splattered in all directions. Deck after deck of the transport ship was blasted through. A lean figure in green robes lay twisted within a crater, blood streaming from nose and mouth, limbs bent at grotesque angles.
Fragments of alloy rained down inside the trembling cabin, clattering with sharp metallic chimes.
"You made the wrong choice, last scion of the Frost Giants."
Unmoving, enveloped in domineering energy beams, beneath thick Titan-forged golden armor, Thanos' voice was low and powerful. The Titan turned. In his broad, coarse purple right palm, a faint blue glow shimmered—the Cosmic Cube, speckled with starlight, firmly grasped in his hand.
"He is Asgardian! You—Thanos—you will pay for this..."
Far from the long-haired, silver-armored, hammer-wielding Thunder God widely portrayed on Earth, Thor now had nearly every bone in his body shattered by Thanos. He lay limp upon the ground, his bloodshot single eye glaring at the purple-faced mad Titan before him.
"Asgardian?... Self-deceiving, pitiable—yet admirable—fool."
The mad Titan's eyes were unforgettable—wide-set, deeply sunken, his sharp gaze piercing outward from the backlit shadows.
The surging primordial cosmic energy was terrifying. This Thanos seemed the true sovereign of the universe—more dreadful than any heap of fearful adjectives could convey.
Unaware that he had, in a sense, taken a blow meant for someone else—bearing the first wave of a Thanos who had resolved to meet the coming 'Apostle War' in his complete form—Thor suffered far more than in the original timeline. He roared in self-reproach at his own weakness.
"If you have the guts, then kill me, Thanos!"
"But regardless, son of Odin, you have a good brother."
Thanos stepped over the coughing Thor with disdain and lifted his head. "He gave me the Cosmic Cube. I leave you your life. That is the deal—and my promise. I, Thanos, do not break my word..."
"Be grateful to your brother, son of Odin."
Tap. Tap. Tap...
"My lord."
A golden-armored guard of the Black Order stepped forward cautiously.
"What is it?" Thanos turned with imperial authority.
"A message from Lord Ebony Maw. In the Andromeda Galaxy, the forces we dispatched to contact the Skrull warlords have suffered heavy losses. Multiple fleets have gone missing..."
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