"The Skrull Empire is destroyed?"
Ben listened to the incoming transmission with genuine astonishment, his expression involuntarily morphing into something resembling Doflamingo reading a newspaper in shocked disbelief.
That's impossible!
"We haven't even started fighting yet," Ben said, bewilderment coloring his voice. "How could they already be destroyed?"
Doesn't this make me look like I'm completely ineffective?
Red Skull, currently squatting on the ground with his hands clasped behind his head like a common criminal suspect, couldn't help his internal commentary. Talk about premature celebration...
He'd encountered Ben once before, years ago on Vormir. He'd explained the situation regarding the Soul Stone's removal, and that information had saved his life—Ben had spared him purely because Red Skull had remained at his post, dutifully waiting to deliver that intelligence rather than abandoning his cosmic punishment.
Perhaps Red Skull had been fearless then, believing that single favor could sustain him indefinitely. That he could dine out on that one act of cooperation for the rest of his existence.
But this time was different. Catastrophically different.
Last time, Ben had shown mercy specifically because Red Skull had stayed behind after the gem's removal, waiting to provide crucial information. Now they'd met again, and the Nazi war criminal was actively fighting against the Plumbers during an official diplomatic function.
There would be no second reprieve. No second chance for someone who'd orchestrated genocide across Earth.
Other space mercenary and minor civilizations that had allied with the Incurseans Empire were being processed—surrendering, accepting submission discs, and transitioning into some form of probationary service or detention.
But Red Skull's fate was already decided. He had to die.
"Captain, he's yours," Ben said, placing his hand on Steve's shoulder and preparing to transfer custody of his old nemesis for final judgment.
Steve shook off Ben's palm without making it obvious, his movements carefully controlled. He walked toward Red Skull with measured steps, his shield gleaming on his back.
"Leave him to me," Steve said, his voice flat and emotionless. "It just so happens I have unfinished business with him. Old debts to settle."
Ben didn't think much of the exchange, his attention already shifting back to the strategic situation. He continued gathering intelligence about the Skrull Empire's mysterious destruction.
"It seems my Incurseans army has already conquered an entire empire!" Attea crowed from where she remained bound, her enthusiasm completely undimmed by captivity. "It's unfortunate that you captured me, Bullfrag—but do you really not want to reconsider my generous offer? Just agree to my terms, and the Skrull Empire plus all remaining Incurseans forces are yours!"
"Don't be stupid," Ben said flatly. "They're mine regardless, since I captured you. Your surrender made everything you control automatically transfer to Sakaar."
He spoke dismissively, but internally he didn't believe for a moment that Attea's expeditionary force had actually destroyed the Skrull Empire.
That civilization was one of the three ancient powers—empires that had dominated galactic politics for millennia. How could they be eliminated so quietly, so completely, without anyone noticing the battle?
If the Incurseans possessed that kind of overwhelming military capability, what had they been doing for the past several centuries? Why hadn't they already conquered the galaxy?
"Strange," Ben muttered, genuine confusion evident in his tone. "Didn't Queen Veranke and Talos both escape during the chaos? Where did they go?"
The Skrulls' destruction must have been caused by a combat force that vastly exceeded the conventional power level of the three empires. Otherwise, they wouldn't have fallen so easily, so completely, with so little warning.
He didn't fully understand the situation yet.
But he was about to get answers whether he wanted them or not.
Because outside the Behemoth Star Ring, countless black warships had materialized from apparent nothingness, their sudden appearance triggering every proximity alarm simultaneously.
In the darkness of space—made even darker by the destruction of the local star—silver-gray robotic forms poured forth like bees from a disturbed hive, surrounding the Behemoth Star Ring in a perfect containment sphere.
"What are those things? Is that Ultron?!" Norman's voice carried genuine post-traumatic stress, his panic understandable given recent history.
Seeing so many robots appear in coordinated formation triggered immediate associations with the AI that had nearly destroyed Earth. His hand moved reflexively toward weapons controls.
But he quickly realized these weren't Ultron's drones. The design language was completely different—ancient rather than modern, organic curves rather than angular efficiency.
The light from the massive warships illuminated the Behemoth Star Ring's surface, compensating for the destroyed star. Everyone on the installation could see several golden phantoms materializing above them, projected at impossible scale.
The leader was a golden-skinned woman who appeared completely naked, though black tribal-pattern markings crossed her body in strategic locations, covering her chest while somehow making the overall effect even more striking. Her head bore magnificent, thick horns reminiscent of a stag—massive antlers that spoke of ancient majesty and primal authority.
Behind her stood two other beings with insectoid characteristics, their bodies resembling some kind of upright mantis or beetle hybrid.
"Where did this pornographic actress come from?" Peter blurted out, immediately covering his eyes—though he conspicuously left gaps between his fingers for peeking. "Is this appropriate for a diplomatic encounter?"
"It appears someone else wants to provoke the Plumbers," Beta Ray Bill sighed heavily, raising his hammer once more with the expression of someone profoundly tired of idiots. "Why are there so many fools in this universe?"
"Attention, inhabitants of the Behemoth Star Ring," the golden woman's voice resonated across every frequency, her tone carrying the weight of divine judgment. "We are the ancient Builders, the gardeners who cultivate and prune the life of this universe."
She seemed to position herself as a god evaluating everything beneath her, arrogantly issuing a decree of destruction without negotiation or mercy: "Your existence has been evaluated and found severely deficient. You are unfit for the universe's continued evolution. Surrender immediately and await elimination!"
After delivering this pronouncement, a third eye between her brows split open vertically, and brilliant light erupted outward in a beam that stretched for thousands of kilometers.
"You want to exterminate people based on a single sentence? Arrogant creatures," someone muttered.
'Ancient Builders?'
Ben frowned slightly, his tactical mind already processing implications. He wasn't intimately familiar with every corner of the Marvel Universe's deep lore, but he understood that this cosmos possessed layers upon layers of ancient, powerful civilizations.
The Builders' name certainly sounded impressive—old, authoritative, cosmic in scope.
But so what?
The one thousand Waybads he'd just recruited weren't exactly pushovers. And that was before considering his other assets—the Kryptonian garrison, his personal transformations, the full might of Sakaar's military infrastructure.
"It seems the Skrulls were destroyed by them," Ben said, certainty crystallizing as he connected the dots. "This isn't coincidence. The Skrull Empire was just annihilated, and now these Builders appear immediately afterward, making similar threats? There's obviously a direct connection."
He cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp in the tense atmosphere. "In that case, let's give them a proper welcome. Bill, do you want to summon our main battle fleet?"
Originally, they'd prepared massive warships to counter the Incurseans Empire, positioning them several light-years away as backup. But because of the Waybad army, those conventional forces hadn't been necessary.
"Unnecessary," Ben decided, shaking his head before Bill could respond.
"If the Waybads can't handle these Builders, then I'll deal with them personally. No reason to escalate beyond what's required."
He transmitted orders through his neural link to the Omnitrix.
Thousands of Waybads stationed outside the Star Ring's defensive perimeter activated simultaneously, their eyes flaring red as their targeting systems locked onto the new threat. Visual feeds redirected to Ben's consciousness, allowing him to observe the enemy fleet from multiple angles.
Since they were combat weapons manufactured by Dr. Psychobos rather than true sentient beings, they possessed minimal independent intelligence. Their brains contained only combat instinct and the fundamental imperative to obey Ben's commands without question or hesitation.
Upon receiving their orders, all the Waybads raised their arms in perfect synchronization, crossing them in the distinctive firing stance as cosmic energy began gathering at the focal points.
Inside the Builder Fleet
The Builders—whose bodies resembled upright insects, mantis-like forms with crystalline exoskeletons—observed the Waybads with expressions mixing contempt and pity.
"Pathetic constructs," one said, its mandibles clicking with disdain.
"Machines without true consciousness, like puppets dancing on strings, possess no capacity for evolution or growth," another Builder agreed. "Though our primary objective is preventing the Earth-based multiverse collision crisis, we should eliminate these defective creations as well. Consider it routine maintenance."
It gestured with a blade-like appendage. "Deploy the Aleph robots. Also release the Ex Nihilo and Abyss units."
Outside the Builder flagship, countless living robots designated as Aleph units activated and began their assault protocol.
After scanning the Waybads' physical specifications with emotionless optical sensors, they immediately began combining. Large numbers of individual robots liquefied and fused together, their molecular structures merging into unified giant soldiers matching the To'kustars' height—dozens of meters tall, purpose-built for this specific engagement.
These combined giant soldiers raised their hands and released energy comparable to spatial storm intensity, generating counterfire to meet the Waybads' accumulated cosmic rays.
BOOM!!!
Thousands of energy streams—each individually capable of destroying stars—collided in the void between the two forces. The resulting detonation resembled a thousand suns exploding simultaneously.
Dazzling radiance illuminated the entire visible universe, light expanding into the boundless void beyond normal spacetime.
Perhaps tens of millions of years hence, in some distant corner of the cosmos, someone would observe this light finally reaching their location and wonder what cataclysm had produced such brilliance.
But for everyone currently on the Behemoth Star Ring, this represented the closest they'd ever come to death.
Never mind tens of millions of years—many doubted they'd survive the next ten seconds.
CRACK!
The Ring's energy shield reached its theoretical limit instantly, thousands of fractures spreading across the protective barrier like spider-webbing glass.
The "tiny" cracks appeared small from orbital distances, but each one was actually several kilometers wide—gaps large enough to fly battleships through.
Though the shield's self-repair systems activated immediately, something seized that momentary opportunity to begin infiltrating the Ring's interior defenses.
Outside the atmosphere, a golden figure descended alongside countless meteor-like objects, reminiscent of the asteroid impact that had ended the dinosaurs' Jurassic reign.
This would mark the end of another era.
The destroyers had arrived. The Aleph robots were here.