The crimson-tinged ambient light of the bedchamber flickered against the dark iron pillars as Valkhyre casually adjusted his white gloves. He leaned back against the massive window frame, looking down at King Orlox with his characteristic smirk.
"The war on the surface has been... let's say, 70/30," Valkhyre continued, his voice smooth and untroubled. "Humans seventy, we thirty. That's because of my rules, of course. I just keep sending drones to continuously attack them, along with the mutants I created through my experiments. Keeps them busy, keeps them bleeding. But deep down, where it actually counts, we are winning. Just to let you know, Your Majesty... everything is going strictly according to plan."
King Orlox's eyes narrowed. "I see. That's great... but answer my question. What about the current Walker?"
"Well, for starters, they are still alive," Valkhyre said, tilting his masked face slightly. "But to be entirely honest, I've still not seen anyone as strong as the Gen 1—Paul Walker's generation."
"I see," Orlox muttered, a cold, dark weight settling over his features as his mind flashed back to the phantom pain in his chest. "But we have to kill the entire Walker lineage. We must remove them from history entirely."
"I agree," Valkhyre said, his smirk broadening as a sharp glint flashed beneath his bone-white visor. "The Walkers... I've watched them through every single generation. They are certainly more dangerous than the others. Very dangerous, even." He let out a low, quiet chuckle before turning toward the room exit. "Don't worry, Your Majesty. I have a plan."
Without another word, Valkhyre turned on his heel, clicking in a slow, rhythmic cadence against the polished stone as he exited the room.
General Xylo lingered by the dais for a moment longer, bowing his head deeply toward the throne. "Rest, my lord," Xylo said softly, his voice full of genuine concern.
He gave one last respectful nod before stepping back and exiting through the heavy sigil-carved doors, leaving King Orlox alone with the lingering ghosts of his past defeat.
THE MOVING PLANET: MALKOR'S HEADQUARTERS
Deep in the cold vacuum of uncharted space, the gargantuan Moving Planet drifted in silent, terrifying majesty.
MALKOR'S HEADQUARTERS:
The heavy blast doors hissed open, venting white steam across the stone-carved floorboards as Valkhyre stepped inside. He casually strolled into the wide, cavernous hall, his hands tucked behind the tailcoat of his black suit, completely unfazed by the oppressive, suffocating pressure radiating from the figure at the far end of the room.
Malkor sat upon a towering throne forged from dark, crystallized starlight. His flawless, faceted diamond face reflected the harsh ambient light of the hall, but his unblinking golden eyes immediately locked onto the intruder.
"Valkhyre," Malkor's voice echoed through the massive chamber,. "The demon that hunts Zethra. The only being who I've ever lost to... what brings you here?"
"Oh, come on, stop now, Malkor," Valkhyre said, a sharp, mocking smile cutting across his face as he waved a gloved hand dismissively. "There's no need for such grand greetings between old acquaintances."
"Then state your business," Malkor demanded coldly, his arms resting on the armrests of his crystalline throne.
"Well... I need you for an assassination," Valkhyre replied, stopping a few paces from the throne.
Malkor narrowed his golden eyes, the faceted surfaces of his face shifting slightly as he observed valkhyre. "Why me?"
Valkhyre smiled, his tone light and conversational. "Because your INFINITE SEAL is perfect for the job. And don't worry, proper payment will be given for your services. I'm going to give you a planet called Antra. It's not far from here—just one million light-years away. That planet is currently under our rule, but it will be your personal payment the moment you complete the job."
Malkor remained still for a moment, weighing the offer in his mind. A whole planet—rich in raw resources and territorial value—was no small token, even for a lord of his caliber.
"I see... and I accept," Malkor stated, his voice calm and decisive. "I can't just pass up the planet Antra. Like they say... opportunity comes but once."
"That's great," Valkhyre said, reaching into the inner pocket of his black suit jacket. He pulled out a dark, metallic data-slate and tossed it casually toward the throne. "The one you are to assassinate is called Walker. Here is a picture. He lives on Planet Earth."
Malkor caught the slate effortlessly in his hand.
The display activated, projecting a clear, high-definition image of his intended target into the dim air between them.
"Earth..." Malkor muttered, looking up from the projection. "Isn't it under your rule?"
"Well, not really," Valkhyre admitted with a light shrug. "It turns out the species living on that planet managed to unlock their evoliths. And let me say... the strongest of them all are the Walkers."
"I see," Malkor said, his golden gaze falling back onto the projected image. "It must be really annoying to deal with such pests. What about Orlox?"
"That's the thing," Valkhyre said, his tone dropping into a dry, chilling calm. "One of the Walkers—the one called Paul Walker—killed Orlox."
A quiet, heavy stillness settled over the massive throne room.
Malkor's eyes narrowed to sharp slits as the weight of that statement sank in. King Orlox was an ancient force, an entity whose power was above the gods themselves.
For a mortal inhabitant of a backwater world to put down such a being was a statistical impossibility.
"That's..." Malkor started, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous growl. "They must be really strong to kill someone even stronger than the gods. They must possess godlike powers." He slowly stood up from his crystalline throne, the absolute, predatory aura around him surging outward in a silent wave. "Well... it's time I visit Earth."
"Nice doing business with you, Malkor," Valkhyre said with a subtle bow of his head, his sharp grin lingering as he turned to take his leave.
### THREE MONTHS LATER
The Moving Planet slowly completed its long, arduous journey across space .
For three agonizing months, the fortress-world had cut through light-years of space, drawing ever closer to its destination.
Finally, the vast, shimmering sphere of Earth's solar system appeared in the distance, bathed in the soft glow of its central star.
From the high launch platform of the Moving Planet, Malkor stood alone, watching the distant blue world spin quietly in the expanse.
Without hesitation, he stepped off the edge of the platform, launching himself directly into the freezing void of space.
Moving like a golden comet, Malkor flew past the outer planetary rings, his eyes fixed entirely on the target world below. The hunt for
the Walker lineage had officially begun.