Buzz... buzz... buzzzz...
Beyond the Marvel universe, on the far shore of the Sea of Realms—within the void.
Ring after ring of spacetime ripples spread outward from Selene at the center, extending endlessly in all directions like a raging dragon drawing water, growing faster and more violent with each passing moment.
Crack, crack... craaack!
With the appearance of the first black spacetime fissure, it was as though some critical threshold had been reached. Like a silver vase shattering, one "bubble" after another in Selene's sight burst apart. Countless radiating Honkai fractures bloomed around the exploding "bubbles," splashing torrents of "liquid" essence outward.
The dazzling, multicolored primordial quintessence evaporated instantly upon entering the violently changing, collapsing, and fissioning void.
In the end, this multiversal space—permeated with the "tender" aura of nascent mass-energy, swaying and drifting—began to tremble and boil like an entire kettle of water set to a rolling boil.
"That will do."
In the next instant, a butterfly-wing-soft female voice drifted across the highest dimension. There was a strange magic within her tone, calming the disorderly agitation and endless expansion of the multiverse for no apparent reason.
It was already full—filled to the brim.
As she ceased injecting new single universes, weak multiverses, and special dimensional spaces as nourishment into her Marvel multiverse, Selene withdrew her inward-reaching consciousness. She had already grasped the general situation.
Selene's projection of awareness stirred certain ripples within the Earth-199999 world. Several supreme abstract conscious entities reacted immediately. They had intended to respond—or even initiate contact with Selene.
Yet under a sweep of will from a court envoy originating from the deepest reaches of the Omniverse, all of them fell silent.
That was not an existence they were meant to approach.
In the end, Selene merely exchanged the faintest acknowledgment with the consciousness of the Living Tribunal, acting as the spokesperson of "OAA." It did not even count as a greeting.
You do your thing. I will do mine.
I grant you convenience—but do not make things difficult for me.
"God" has granted you a certain degree of interference authority. Do not abuse it. Use it properly.
That was the Living Tribunal's stance.
As for "OAA" finding an extracosmic creator deity at least at the level of the First Firmament to serve as Eternity, granting the other party secondary Omniversal authority—able to contend with, or even surpass, the Living Tribunal in status—
The Living Tribunal remained noncommittal.
Selene cared even less.
For now, she had no intention of enacting a "Divine Descent" intervention. She withdrew.
As long as that group of monsters and mad gods did not directly target them with lethal intent, Selene believed that with Master Chief John—117's extraordinary luck, the "chemical reaction" between him and Cortana as a golden partner, and the overall quality of the Inquisition strike cruiser fleet, it would not be so easy for them to be annihilated.
Moreover, having been baptized and cleansed by the essence of a newborn multiverse, all of them would undergo transformation and reap immense benefits.
There was no reason John would fare worse than the Guardians of the Galaxy led by Star-Lord.
As for Selene herself—it was not yet time. She had plenty of time to slowly play with her newly acknowledged senior.
Whether it was she, "OAA," or the Living Tribunal—time held no meaning for them. Their perception of time was fundamentally different from that of mortals.
After issuing instructions for continued development to the incarnation of Eternity, Selene departed.
Growth was not achieved overnight. A newly born multiverse, even with sufficient "nourishment," would still require time to surpass the pace of the Marvel infinite universe and its prime universe. As for the Omniverse—it required even greater accumulation.
This act of "force-feeding growth" had already been rather excessive. It had reached the expansion limit of a juvenile multiverse. Only after it stabilized, digested its nutrients, and matured naturally for a period would Selene administer another "massive supplement."
Now, as Empress of the Empire, she needed to return to the Imperial Capital and make slight adjustments to her policies.
Whether or not she would use it, "OAA" had indeed provided Selene with considerable inspiration.
...
Honkai Dimension, Imperial Capital, Hall of Diligent Governance—Imperial Study.
Hum—
"Your Majesty, this is the latest batch of memorials."
Almost at the exact moment Selene's spatial rift appeared and the Empress' exquisite face—cold yet carrying a trace of passion and fighting spirit—materialized within the study—Whoosh whoosh.
Offensive Bias seemed to have been waiting for some time. From some unknown corner, it suddenly emerged, appearing before her while clutching a thick stack of memorials and folders, pressing them directly into Selene's hands.
Selene: ...
Compared to other universe's supreme gods who neglected proper affairs, she truly was far too hands-on.
Still, there were gains as well as losses. She enjoyed it.
To become like "OAA," rarely showing herself, interacting almost exclusively with the Living Tribunal and Eternity through single-line communication—
That kind of life... better not.
Returning home in glory is better than parading in fine clothes at night unseen.
Work was also a way of preserving one's humanity.
When she eventually grew tired of it, she could consider other options. At least for now, she was not bored.
"Your Majesty?"
Looking at Offensive Bias' somewhat ferocious crimson mechanical eye—filled with the grand geometric style of the Forerunners—Selene raised an eyebrow and, rarely, revealed a helpless smile.
"It's nothing. You... are doing well."
She patted Offensive Bias' rough, thoroughly un-round metallic head.
Walking to her luxurious desk, she paused. The neatly stacked documents upon the carved, gold-trimmed tabletop had reached new heights again. Casually, she drew out one file:
—"Regarding the Handling of the Dark Matter Thieves"—
"The Dark Matter Thieves?"
Selene gazed at the title of the memorial, a contemplative look appearing on her face.
The personal information of the leader was recorded in extreme detail.
Humanoid. Horizontal slit pupil single eye. Pink spiky hair. A massive eye embedded in the chest serving as an energy emission organ.
From the golden suppression armor form to the normal blue-skinned state, from the energy-release plasma state to the pink-white Meteoric Burst state—each was described.
"..."
Selene fell into thoughtful silence. Then, as though searching for someone—or something—she rapidly flipped through the folder, ignoring the preliminary research report on the "Monsterization" phenomenon, until her gaze stopped at—
—"Hero Association Handling Recommendations"—
S-Class Heroes: Blast, Tornado of Terror, Silver Fang (Bang), Atomic Samurai, Child Emperor, KING...
A-Class Heroes: Sweet Mask, Iaian, Okamaitachi, Bushidrill...
B-Class Heroes: Blizzard of Hell, Eyelashes, Mountain Ape, Wild Horn, Captain Mizuki...
"B-Class Rank 63. Bald Cape. Saitama."
In the photograph: a person wearing an unfashionable yellow superhero suit, of average build, with a lightbulb-like gleaming bald head. Compared to others, his overall design appeared abnormally simple—aside from the bald head and drooping eyes, there was nothing particularly eye-catching about him.
"He didn't attack my colonial occupation forces... oh, was it because he chose the timing appropriately?"
It was precisely during the Dark Matter Thieves' invasion of Earth—when the Hero Association was locked in bitter struggle—that the First Legion expedition fleet had conveniently conducted disaster relief operations and distributed supplies, swiftly rebuilding and maintaining order. As a result, Saitama did not attack the Imperial forces, who were likewise visitors from beyond the stars.
Savoring those once-immature memories, the corner of Selene's lips gradually curved into a faint smile as she murmured softly, "One who has removed his limiter... what perfect timing. He shall be my template."
"...Removing the limiter, hm."
Her fair yet powerful fingers tapped rhythmically against the tabletop as she narrowed her blood-diamond eyes.
"Draft the decree. I—Temporary Conquest World No. 1781063. Hero Association. B-Class Rank 63. Bald Cape. Saitama. Summon him to the Capital."
...
Meanwhile, within the Earth-199999 world.
Xandar system, primary planet.
"Commitment, integrity, fairness, justice, inclusiveness—these are the core tenets upon which Xandar was founded. The Xandar Nova Auction will continue to provide the finest auction services to all Xandarian citizens and our distinguished guests."
Across the public broadcast channels, a sweet and melodious yet formulaic female voice delivered the promotional prelude for tonight's session of Xandar's largest and oldest Nova Auction.
"Haa... the same lines over and over every day. My ears are practically growing calluses from hearing it."
Inside a building bearing the Nova Auction insignia, a young staff member—hands busy inputting and reviewing auction lot registrations—could not help but complain upon hearing the broadcast.
He wore a high-collared blue uniform. The cross-shaped eight-pointed golden star emblem pinned to his left chest unmistakably embodied Xandar's style. Crowned with the name "Nova," it was only natural that this auction house was a state-operated institution of Xandar.
"I say, when are we going to get some fresh advertising slogans? Over the years, a considerable portion of our Nova Auction's market share has been snatched away by the hyenas of Knowhere."
"That," came the reply, "is called tradition."
Dressed in the same Nova-blue uniform, his badge of seniority rich and telling of his experience, the elderly man with graying temples did not grow angry. He merely smiled faintly.
"We have never changed. We have never forgotten our original intent. Proper. Lawful. Inheritors of long-standing legacy. To compare us with Knowhere is the greatest insult."
"Let the unclean, unsustainable, high-risk ventures be fought over by space pirates. A thousand years of reputation—so long as we do not tarnish it ourselves, they can only scramble over the scraps we leave behind."
This was no empty boast.
Xandar had proclaimed itself the safest planet in the universe for many years. Its image as a fair, inclusive, prosperous "utopia" and "commercial hub" had indeed taken root in the public mind.
True, compared to the Kree, Skrull, and Shi'ar—those three great cosmic rogue empires—Xandar could hardly be considered their equal. Yet it had carved out its own sphere of survival through tenacity, and had stood firm against multiple invasions by the Kree Empire.
Granted, its victories over the Kree had been somewhat... fortunate.
The Kree had been fighting on four fronts. They had to pour their full strength—even emptying their coffers—to crush their mortal enemies, the Skrulls. They also had to suppress internal unrest while remaining wary of the Shi'ar. Xandar's victories were hard-won—and lucky.
As a buffer zone between the Skrulls and the Kree, the Shi'ar Empire had no desire to see Xandar fall. If it could drive a wedge into the Kree, why not? After several failed Kree invasions, the opportunity to eliminate Xandar had already slipped away.
So long as the Shi'ar Empire endured, and the Skrull Empire lingered on the brink of extinction yet stubbornly clung to life, Xandar remained secure.
Its position as an interstellar opportunist thriving between powers would keep Xandar comfortable for many years to come.
"Young man, so impatient. I would not feel at ease letting you take my place just yet. Continue to temper yourself. If enemies like Ronan were ever to attack Xandar again, it will ultimately fall to your generation..."
"Yes, Mentor Yuri!"
Yuri's gaze passed through the window, settling upon the magnificent structure towering above.
A massive ring-shaped complex, with an open field spanning ten kilometers in diameter at its center. Landing craft moved along busy yet orderly aerial routes. Shuttles, patrol gunboats, transport vessels, and Nova Corps fighters weaved between buildings, converging into a bustling metallic artery of traffic.
Ding—
At that moment, a notification chime from the screen at Yuri's workstation pulled him back from his nostalgic reflection.
"Oh? Another high-value auction lot submitted for approval?"
Delight flickered across Yuri's face.
Workstations were categorized by clearance level. As a senior member of the review department, only lots marked above a certain valuation threshold were forwarded directly to his desk. False valuation did occur—but according to unspoken rules, those that exaggerated too outrageously were placed directly onto Xandar's blacklist.
"Let me see... Seller: Divine Empress Order. Never heard of them. Guarantor: Guardians of the Galaxy—ah, the team of 'Star-Lord,' Mr. Peter Quill."
During the Kree Accuser Ronan's invasion years ago, it had been that former Ravager who aided Xandar. Yuri naturally remembered.
"Item: Atmospheric Incineration Torpedo..."
"Torpedo?"
At that word, he suddenly looked up, realizing that something was not right.
"This is an advanced plasma device. The weapon detonates in low planetary orbit and literally ignites all oxygen on the target planet. The attacked world's entire surface will be completely melted into glass. Even one month later, the planet will still burn like a blazing amber jewel in the night sky... ah?!!"
The more he read, the more alarmed he became. Halfway through the concise product description—accompanied by helpful images and real-combat demonstration footage—the crimson glow from the screen reflected upon his rapidly paling face like a shadow. His heartbeat surged. Yuri was stunned.
Especially when he saw the words—[Already Entered Territory]—
Darkness swam before his eyes. He nearly fainted.
This could be a joke. It could also be real. But could one dare to ignore such information and fail to report it?
No one would gamble on that.
What if that atmospheric incineration torpedo detonated on Xandar?
Even if its destructive power were exaggerated—what if it merely wiped out a continental metropolis?
That so-called Divine Empress Order—could it be the Mad Titan's Dark Order in disguise?
"****!" (alien profanity)
"Guards—! Guards!"
The words squeezed out between clenched teeth. Yuri shot to his feet, knocking over his drinking container. Grabbing the communicator, he roared:
"Security! Notify the security division, the patrol police, the space militia! No—notify the Nova Corps!"
"This is Xandar Planetary Commodity Inspection and Review Division—there are terrorists who have entered our territory carrying a planet-destroyer-class weapon!"
"I repeat—terrorists have entered our territory carrying a planet-destroyer-class weapon!"
—
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