Ten Minutes Earlier
The conference chamber had devolved into complete pandemonium. Every faction present had its own grievances to air, its own territorial demands to make, its own ancient hatreds to nurture. They clung to their interests with white-knuckled desperation, and aside from the Sakaar delegation, not a single party genuinely wanted peaceful resolution.
The Kree actively worked to amplify the chaos. The louder the shouting grew, the easier it would be for their operatives to move undetected outside the chamber. They deliberately exploited the millennium-old hatred between Kree and Skrull civilizations, poking at old wounds with surgical precision.
The Skrulls proved devastatingly easy to provoke.
Insults from their ancient enemies struck like physical blows, igniting their volatile tempers instantly. But their rage served a purpose beyond simple reaction—the chaos created opportunities. If fighting broke out, the Super Skrull would have the perfect opening to approach "King Sakaar" and copy the genetic templates stored in that watch.
Emperor Milleous observed the escalating madness with cold satisfaction, content to play his role as buffoon. His strategy was elegantly simple: avoid antagonizing anyone enough to make himself a target. Just survive the conference without getting beaten to death by the three major powers.
So he lavished Queen Veranke with grotesque flattery, professing his "love" at every opportunity, while simultaneously agreeing with every single proposal Caiera made. His responses had become almost mechanical: "Ah yes, yes, Lady Caiera speaks with great wisdom!" and "Ms. Veranke's demands are entirely reasonable!"
The outcome of this conference meant nothing to him. In his imagination, his brilliant daughter was probably already crushing all three empires under her military boot. Any moment now, she'd arrive with her armies and make him master of the known universe.
Therefore, with every faction deliberately steering toward conflict, the situation deteriorated rapidly.
Peter couldn't replicate Ben's unflappable composure. He watched in growing alarm as several Incurseans subordinates literally jumped onto the conference table, their devotion to Emperor Milleous compelling them to "defend Ms. Veranke's honor" by trying to bash in the heads of the "Kree locusts" with their bare fists.
The various civilizations serving under Milleous's banner looked positively gleeful at the prospect of violence. They raised their own weapons with obvious enthusiasm, their expressions hungry for bloodshed. Predatory eyes swept across the room, selecting targets, calculating which opponent's skull would make the most satisfying sound when shattered.
King J'son of the Spartoi Empire fixed his cruel gaze on Norman Osborn, malicious intent radiating from every pore.
He'd wanted to kill these backwater primitives from Earth since the moment they'd opened their mouths. What gives them the right to sit at the same table as me? The thought burned like acid in his mind.
Steve Rogers tightened his grip on his shield, his attention locked on the Red Skull standing among the Spartoi delegation. His jaw was set with absolute determination.
Red Skull met his gaze briefly, then looked away. He had no interest in fighting the Earth contingent. Those connections belonged to a past life he'd already abandoned.
CRACK!
In the chaos, nobody could identify who fired the first shot.
A man collapsed, a smoking hole burned through his chest. The sound acted like a starting pistol, and suddenly everyone was fighting—weapons discharging, fists flying, blood spraying across expensive diplomatic furniture.
"EVERYONE BE SILENT!"
The roar that erupted from Beta Ray Bill carried the force of divine thunder. A golden hammer materialized in his hand, lightning crackling along its length in brilliant arcs. The weapon was one of the Sky Hammers, reforged by dwarven smiths in Sakaar's furnaces after the death of Vilgax and his messengers.
Bill had earned this particular hammer through valor and dedication. The weapon granted him power approaching Thor's prime, channeling cosmic energies that could shatter planets. But the deity he swore allegiance to wasn't Odin—it was King Sakaar himself, the being who'd given his people hope when they had none.
The hammer descended like the wrath of an angry god, capable of reducing entire worlds to rubble.
A black hand shot out and caught the weapon mid-strike, fingers closing around the lightning-wreathed handle. The impact created a shockwave that shattered windows throughout the chamber, but the attacker didn't even flinch.
Bill was genuinely powerful, someone who'd proven himself in countless battles across the cosmos. But the universe contained multitudes of warriors who matched or exceeded his capabilities. Even second-tier civilizations maintained elite forces comparable to the Nova Corps. The three major empires fielded champions who could make Bill look like an amateur.
"Does Sakaar presume to rule the entire universe?" The voice was cold, mocking, absolutely confident.
Bill stared in shock at the Skrull standing before him. This was no ordinary soldier—this was someone fundamentally different.
Talos represented the complete antithesis of the Skrull philosophy. Where most Skrull warriors cultivated their shapeshifting abilities to maximum potential, Talos had walked the opposite path. He'd completely abandoned his species' signature transformation powers in exchange for raw physical might. His genetic "defect" had become devastating strength.
But even accounting for that trade-off, Talos shouldn't have been this powerful. Something had changed.
The Skrull warrior's current power level completely overwhelmed Bill's own considerable abilities. Talos sneered, his expression dripping with contempt.
"Your King Sakaar hasn't even spoken yet," he said, his voice carrying across the suddenly quiet chamber. "When did a mere sheriff gain authority to issue commands at a galactic summit? Unless..."
His gaze shifted to Peter, whose Gravattack form radiated obvious uncertainty and confusion.
"Unless that's an impostor."
The words landed like a bomb.
The fighting stopped instantly, as though someone had hit a universal pause button. Warriors froze mid-swing. Weapons lowered fractionally. Every eye in the chamber turned toward the Galilean who supposedly represented Sakaar's power.
Talos wasn't alone in his suspicions. Multiple delegates had harbored doubts since the conference began. The King of Sakaar who'd demonstrated overwhelming force at the previous summit had been utterly silent this time, moving like a puppet controlled by Caiera, seemingly decorative rather than commanding.
"Sakaar sent a fake to deceive us," Talos announced, his voice rising with manufactured outrage. "They consider the rest of our empires beneath their notice. They mock us with this transparent deception!"
His words ignited a powder keg of wounded pride. If this accusation proved true, then Sakaar's arrogance had crossed into active insult. The kind of insult that demanded blood payment.
Suddenly, hundreds of hostile gazes focused on Peter with laser intensity.
Even Peter, despite his relative inexperience with galactic politics, understood what needed to happen next.
Most beings in this room knew almost nothing about the King of Sakaar beyond reputation and rumor. The only way they could verify his identity was through the Omnitrix—that distinctive watch that granted him his famous transformative abilities.
"Finally!" Peter thought, excitement flooding through him despite the danger. "I've been waiting for an excuse to do this!"
His panic evaporated, replaced by anticipation. He reached for the Omnitrix's dial, spinning it with practiced fingers, ready to select a transformation that would prove his authenticity beyond any doubt.
But someone was faster.
The moment Talos confirmed the watch was real, he exchanged a meaningful glance with Kl'rt, the Super Skrull warrior standing beside Queen Veranke.
Kl'rt understood instantly. This was the moment they'd been waiting for, the entire reason for attending this conference. He moved with speed that would have made XLR8 proud, his hand shooting forward like a striking serpent.
His palm slammed down on the Omnitrix's faceplate before Peter could complete his selection.
Brilliant green light exploded outward, filling the entire conference chamber with emerald radiance. The energy signature was unmistakable, undeniable—the authentic power of the Omnitrix in full activation mode.
When the light faded, Peter had transformed into Four Arms—eleven feet of crimson-skinned Tetramand muscle, four powerful limbs, and overwhelming physical might.
But Kl'rt had changed too.
The Super Skrull's skin writhed as though infested with thousands of serpents just beneath the surface. His body convulsed, bones cracking and reforming, mass increasing exponentially as new genetic templates flooded into his cellular structure.
"Kl'rt!" Queen Veranke's scream carried genuine terror and concern.
The Super Skrull warrior didn't respond immediately. He was too consumed by the sensation of power—more power than he'd ever imagined possible, flowing through every cell, rewriting his fundamental nature.
"I'm... I'm fine, Your Majesty!" His voice had deepened, resonating with newfound strength. "The watch is real! Completely real!"
As he spoke, his transformation accelerated. His body expanded upward, growing taller and broader until he towered over everyone in the chamber. His originally green skin shifted through a spectrum of colors before settling into patterns of red stone that resembled cooling magma.
His left arm burst into flame, the flesh beneath transforming into molten lava that dripped and reformed in an endless cycle. His right arm crystallized, diamond-hard edges catching and refracting light into rainbow patterns. Additional limbs sprouted from his torso—some ending in claws, others in manipulator appendages, still others in weapon-like protrusions that defied easy categorization.
"I have absorbed the power of King Sakaar!" Kl'rt roared, his voice shaking the walls. "No force in this universe can defeat me now! I am ULTIMATE!"
His laughter erupted like a physical force, wild and triumphant and absolutely uncontrolled. The sound transformed into visible shockwaves, expanding outward in concentric rings of compressed atmosphere.
BOOOOOM!!!
The sonic assault detonated with the force of heavy artillery. The entire conference room disintegrated, walls blown outward, ceiling collapsing, floor buckling. Delegates were flung through the air like rag dolls. The structural supports of the tower itself groaned under the strain, metal screaming as it bent beyond tolerance.
This was the explosion the Highbreed had witnessed from outside—the moment when their carefully orchestrated invasion plan intersected with completely unexpected chaos.
"Such incredible power!" Queen Veranke gasped from within the ruins.
Talos stood over her protectively, his enhanced body having absorbed the worst of the blast. His expression mixed awe with calculation as he stared at the transformed Kl'rt.
The Super Skrull had become something beyond classification—a chimeric fusion of dozens of alien species, each contributing their unique abilities to a gestalt being of terrifying capability.
And he was completely, utterly out of control.