The vast capital city of Planet U40 was engulfed in an eerie silence.
Suspended in mid-air, Lothar's figure was like that of a god descending upon the world, rendering all who beheld him speechless.
This was a man whom even the planetary defense systems could not stop—his very presence sent shivers down the spines of those watching the battle unfold through live-streams. A creeping sense of terror began to take root in their hearts.
"That was… a plasma cannon…"
A trembling voice, eyes filled with disbelief, stared at the defiant figure tilting his head upward, chin raised in contempt. Under the azure sky, his presence alone instilled unprecedented fear into the people below.
Baltan and Gazzler, the two mightiest generals of Planet U40's military, were utterly annihilated—their bodies erased from existence, dissolving into the very air itself.
"Rejoice!"
"For the mighty Son of Titan! The awe-inspiring Lord of the Chitauri, His Highness Lothar!"
"This moment marks the completion of his conquest across dozens of star systems!"
Kneeling on one knee, The Other gripped his emerald scepter, chanting hymns of praise with fanatical reverence. His fervent voice echoed through all the media networks broadcasting this battle, reaching every ear that had borne witness.
Standing silently, Astra ignored The Other's sycophantic display, instead focusing his gaze on the space where Baltan and Gazzler had perished. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out.
One would expect the satisfaction of vengeance fulfilled—yet, there was no joy in his heart. Instead, an indescribable unease gnawed at him, as if everything had unfolded too perfectly, as though every moment had been preordained. And he had no idea why.
"Now—the coordinates."
Lothar descended slowly before Astra, paying no heed to The Other, who was still lost in his hymn of devotion.
"I know. Should I send them to you? Or directly to Thanos?" Astra asked bluntly, skipping the pleasantries.
"Whichever you prefer."
"In that case, I'll send them to Thanos directly. The deal was between him and me, after all." Shrugging, Astra recomposed himself and extended a hand toward Lothar. The latter understood, and with a flick of his wrist, a blue robotic feline materialized from his wristband, appearing before Astra.
"Data storage in progress. Data storage complete. Thank you for providing the coordinates, Lord Astra."
As Astra lowered his mental defenses and granted permission, Woz effortlessly extracted the coordinates from his memory.
"Woz is now establishing a connection with Lord Thanos… Connection failed…"
The data stream flickered in Woz's eyes. Scratching his head, his round, mechanical face displayed an expression of confusion.
"Lord Lothar, Woz is still unable to establish contact with the outside network."
That shouldn't be possible. The municipal tower responsible for the network blockade had already been destroyed, along with half the military-grade communication relays when Lothar unleashed his energy shockwave. How could the signal still be jammed?
"...What?"
Lothar's brows furrowed. In that instant, his battle-honed instincts screamed a warning—without hesitation, he launched into the air.
A second later, the ground beneath where he had just stood burst open, and a Skrull soldier, expressionless and lifeless, emerged from below.
"Prince Lothar! Look!"
The Other abruptly ceased his praise, eyes widening in disbelief as figures began to rise from the wreckage of the municipal building and military districts.
"The Planetary Defense Corps!"
"And the returning army!"
"But… something's wrong with them?"
The citizens of U40 watched in stunned amazement as familiar faces emerged like mushrooms sprouting after rain. However, their initial joy quickly turned to confusion.
Vacant eyes. Lifeless expressions. Stiff, mechanical movements.
There was no doubt—these people were dead.
Countless corpses—reanimated—scattered across Planet U40.
"Well. Now I understand why the Planetary Defense Corps never arrived earlier."
Someone, braving their fear, reached out and touched one of the unmoving bodies—confirming the chilling truth.
"They were already dead."
Then—
"Son of Thanos. Heir of Titan. Lothar."
"Your actions… have intrigued me."
A low, resounding voice boomed across the entire planet.
And from the shadows, a figure stepped forward.
A crimson cape billowed despite the absence of wind. Golden armor gleamed under the light. Beneath a black-and-white striped mask, deep-set eyes shimmered like the vast expanse of the cosmos itself.
"Lord Shafrin!"
"It's Lord Shafrin!!!"
As the true ruler of Planet U40, Shafrin's arrival was a beacon of hope to the frightened masses.
"Oh?"
Lothar descended, locking eyes with the man approaching him. His gaze narrowed.
The lens over his right eye flickered, data streaming frantically—Woz was scanning the archives.
"My name is Shafrin," the golden-clad figure declared. "I am the sovereign of the planet beneath your feet."
The medals adorning his armor clinked as he came to a halt before Lothar, their gazes meeting at an intimate distance.
"Shafrin…?"
At that moment, Lothar's mind flashed back—to Babar's dying words.
The name left unspoken.
The mysterious "Lord" Babar had feared.
"You are correct," Shafrin said, a smirk creeping across his lips. "I was the one who killed Babar."
His casual admission caught Lothar off guard.
He hadn't even tried to conceal it. Because soon—everyone here would be dead.
Everyone except for one person.
His brother. Astra.
"Prince Lothar!"
The Other rushed to Lothar's side, gripping his scepter tightly, his expression grim.
"Would you like to witness a fireworks display, Lothar?"
Shafrin's voice was calm, yet carried a powerful magnetism—one that ordinary beings could hardly resist.
As soon as the words left his mouth—
Across Planet U40, the reanimated corpses activated the military's weapon systems.
A thousand laser cannons turned their sights—not toward the enemy—
But toward their own people.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Explosions erupted one after another, their thunderous roar consuming the planet.
Panic. Screams. Despair.
The entire world drowned in fire and blood.
Black. White. Red. Yellow. Purple. Green. Blue. Gray…
The countless hues of alien blood painted U40's surface in a grotesque spectrum.
"You…?"
Watching the incomprehensible carnage unfold before him, Lothar's expression hardened.
He did not understand.
Why would this man—the ruler of this world—slaughter his own people?
Was he… destroying his own dominion?
Was he… turning his own blade against himself?
"Do you know, Lothar?"
"I have been preparing for this moment for so long… so long that I have nearly forgotten—"
"What I once was."
Shafrin's sapphire eyes, as deep as the infinite cosmos, locked onto Lothar's tensed form.
"I bloom amidst the slaughter."
His voice—whispering, yet omnipresent—echoed across the planet.
And Lothar felt it.
A chorus of whispers, as if countless unseen voices were murmuring in his ears.
Beneath the black-and-white striped mask, Shafrin's lips curved into a grin.
This was a power he had honed to perfection—a secret art of mental domination, derived from the fragment of the Mind Stone he once possessed.
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