"Commander Nakel!"
"Commander Nakel!"
The chamber erupted with shouts of alarm. Tuja, Abo, and several other soldiers scrambled toward their fallen leader, their boots pounding against the metal deck.
Nakel's body twitched faintly. A quick examination confirmed the truth—he was unconscious, not dead.
The soldiers exhaled collectively, a shaky breath of relief rushing through the room.
Yes. Alex had spared Nakel.
But not out of mercy.
Alex's crimson gaze swept across the chamber like a predator's, cold and unreadable. He had left Nakel alive for one reason only: information.
He needed someone who could speak of the stars. Someone who knew the tangled politics of the cosmos, the location of other civilizations, the movements of greater powers.
Alex's ambitions had never been chained to Earth. His path—his destiny—was written across the universe. Sooner or later, to gather the Infinity Stones, he would step beyond the atmosphere and into the endless black sea of space.
And for that, Nakel was useful.
As for the others?
They were not.
Ssssss!
Twin lances of molten red light erupted from Alex's eyes, sweeping across the room like the scythe of Death itself.
"AHHH—!"
Tuja was the first to fall. The mighty warrior didn't even have time to draw his weapon before his skull vaporized into steam, his body collapsing bonelessly to the ground.
Abo roared in grief and fury, leaping forward—only to be carved in half at the waist by Alex's sweeping gaze, his two halves dropping heavily to the floor.
The others didn't fare any better. Screams echoed, high-pitched and desperate, before being cut short one after another. The air filled with the stench of burning flesh and blood—not human blood, but acrid and metallic, a stench so strong it burned the nostrils.
"Open fire!" someone screamed, their voice cracking.
"Kill him!" another shrieked, rage mixing with terror.
Energy guns blazed.
A storm of green and blue bolts filled the air, painting the chamber in a kaleidoscope of destructive light. The sheer volume of fire was enough to obscure Alex completely, his silhouette swallowed by the storm.
For a heartbeat, the Skrulls thought—hoped—that maybe, finally, this would work.
But Alex didn't dodge. Didn't flinch. Didn't even raise a hand.
The torrent of energy struck him head-on, slamming into his chest, his arms, his face. And yet… it was nothing. To him, it was less than a mosquito bite, less than an itch he couldn't be bothered to scratch.
He simply continued to walk forward, eyes blazing, methodically sweeping his heat vision left and right.
One by one, the Skrulls fell. Bodies dropped to the deck, some burning, some sliced apart, some still smoldering with holes through their torsos.
The screams dwindled.
The gunfire ceased.
And then—only silence.
A silence broken only by the faint hum of the starship's engines, and the acrid haze of smoke and charred alien flesh hanging heavy in the air.
By the time Alex's eyes dimmed, every Skrull in the chamber was dead—save one.
Nakel.
The unconscious commander lay sprawled on the floor, his chest rising and falling weakly, spared only because Alex had deemed him useful.
Alex bent down, plucking the Tesseract from its case. The glowing cube pulsed with cosmic power, a relic coveted by gods and empires alike. He seized Nakel with his other hand, lifting the alien as though he weighed no more than a sack of feathers.
Then—
Whoosh!
The walls rattled as Alex blasted through the hull, dragging Nakel with him. The vacuum of space greeted them, but Alex's telekinesis wrapped around them both like an invisible cocoon. Ever since awakening that power, carrying passengers through flight had been trivial—his personal force field, woven from will alone.
The starship behind them shrank rapidly. Within seconds, Alex had descended back to Earth.
Thud!
He landed heavily at the mutant base, the ground trembling beneath his boots.
Charles, Erik, Hank, and the other senior mutants rushed out at once, having already heard the sonic boom of his approach.
When their eyes fell on the case in his hand, relief washed over their faces.
The Tesseract had been recovered.
"Alex, is the Tesseract in there?" Hank asked, his voice steady but his eyes sharp.
Alex gave a curt nod. Only then did Hank allow himself to exhale.
Whoosh!
Their gazes shifted to Nakel, slumped over Alex's shoulder.
"What is this thing?" Emma Frost wrinkled her nose, her tone dripping with disdain. "He looks… monstrous."
Mutants came in many forms—beautiful, grotesque, and everything in between. But Nakel's twisted Skrull physiology was far from anything remotely human. His mottled green skin, ridged chin, and elongated features stirred only revulsion.
"Was it really a mutant who stole the Tesseract? Why would he do it?" Mystique hissed, her golden eyes narrowed. Even disguised in another's form, her cold contempt was clear. In her mind, traitors deserved no forgiveness.
"No," Charles said slowly, his expression grave. His eyes lingered on Nakel's alien features. "He's not a mutant. He's… an alien."
The word struck the chamber like a thunderclap.
Even the most seasoned mutants faltered. Alien.
Though after the chaos of the Decepticons, the concept wasn't entirely unthinkable. Still, the realization that they were dealing not with rogue mutants but extraterrestrials sent a ripple of unease through the group.
"An alien?" Raven muttered, covering her face with one hand. "God above… this is too much."
She had been prepared to despise a mutant betrayer. Instead, she was staring at a creature from another world, entangled in schemes far beyond their own planet.
"Charles, why did he steal the Tesseract?" Erik demanded, his voice sharp, his gaze heavy on the professor.
"Inside," Alex interrupted calmly, his deep voice brooking no argument.
Together, they carried Nakel into the conference hall. Charles extended his hand, placing his fingers gently against the Skrull's temple. His eyes slid shut as his consciousness dove into the alien's mind.
Moments passed. Then Charles's face hardened, his lips thinning.
"What is it, Charles? What did you see?" Hank asked quickly, his posture stiff, as though bracing for bad news.
Charles's eyes opened at last, grave and shadowed.
"Worse than we imagined," he said quietly. "Although Alex retrieved the Tesseract, this may only be the beginning."
He spoke then of what he had seen: the war between the Kree and the Skrulls, empires that spanned galaxies, civilizations locked in an eternal struggle. And at the center of it, a "Power Source" they both coveted. The Tesseract.
The revelation left the room stunned into silence.
Everyone except Alex, who had already known the shape of this truth.
"So… both races want it." Erik's voice was a hiss of disbelief. "The Skrulls see it as their key to freedom, and the Kree believe it will grant them victory. Which means—two entire interstellar civilizations may come for Earth?"
His voice rose with each word until it was nearly a shout.
They had spent their lives battling human prejudice, struggling for survival on one world. Now? They were caught in the crosshairs of empires spanning the stars.
Emma's brow furrowed as she leaned forward. "Charles… what kind of races are they? These Kree and Skrulls. Just how powerful are we talking about?"
The question hung heavy in the air, everyone waiting for the answer.
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