Wisps of green smoke rose from the ground beneath Thanos' boot. Sparks rolled through the scorched, blistering ashes. A green-skinned humanoid lay face-down, flesh mangled and unrecognizable. Thick, dark-purple blood—viscous as heavy oil—spread outward, slowly seeping beneath Thanos' brass war boots.
Crunch.
"Little one, you chose the wrong target to exploit."
Thanos flexed his gleaming golden left wrist, his broad pupils glowing with a cold violet sheen as he looked down at the Skrull warlord at his feet—or perhaps some royal heir from a branch of the Skrull dynasty... It did not matter.
He had never cared about such distinctions.
To the Mad Titan, crushing the prince of a galactic empire was no different from plucking a ripe melon in an orchard.
"You chose a fool," Thanos said with disdain.
From the device held by one of Thanos' golden-armored guards, several holographic projections appeared—Skrull warlords, religious leaders, high officials. Their expressions were grim.
Just as the Master Chief and 'Gorgon' had been recruiting allies, rallying forces, launching surprise strikes to establish their foothold—the Black Order fleet that had descended to stabilize the situation had given him a sharp blow, proving both their strength and the feasibility of a coalition. They had drawn in the Nova Empire, who hated him to the bone, and the ever-meddling Shi'ar Empire to form a united force against him.
Thanos had not been idle.
While ordering his generals to assemble the full might of the Black Order and working day and night to cultivate and manufacture more war machines and organic bio-weapons, he had turned his attention to the Skrulls.
If the Kree and the Shi'ar stood together, the Skrulls would undoubtedly be annihilated. And even after eliminating him and his Black Order, the Kree would continue advancing along the Andromeda front, wiping the Skrull nation from existence entirely.
In the name of Death, Thanos had delivered a message of salvation to the remaining legitimate Skrull warlords and certain heirs of royal bloodlines.
Total extermination—nation destroyed, species enslaved by the Kree? Or beg for survival and fight for the salvation of Death?
Death's salvation was cold, yet filled with hope—almost warm. In the new era after the war, Thanos promised that all surviving Skrulls would, after the random, calm, and fair death of half their population, be reborn.
Driven to the brink, learning that the so-called Divine Empress Order that attacked them had been drawn in by a refugee branch of their own kind, and hearing that the Shi'ar, Kree, Nova, and hundreds of other cosmic powers were negotiating a joint alliance, the Skrulls had fallen into complete despair.
They were already aboard the pirate ship.
They had joined forces with Thanos' legions and crippled several Kree main fleets. That was fact. The Kree blue-skinned bastards had likely already announced it at the interstellar council. From resistance organization to terrorist group—such a stain could never be washed clean.
Who told them to be blinded by greed and panic, to collaborate with the universally reviled Black Order—the very embodiment of cosmic political incorrectness?
And the aggrieved party was the Kree Empire, one of the universe's greatest powers and habitual bullies. Public opinion was beyond saving.
"Is there truly no room for compromise, Thanos? You were defeated. It was we who offered aid in your hour of need, who placed faith in your goddess Death. Salvation has arrived—why must innocent children, who have already suffered so much, die without sin?"
After a long silence, an elderly Skrull religious leader spoke. He wore a tall cloth headdress, a trailing robe, and leaned upon a staff. He did not spare a glance for the slain prince. His tone was filled with negotiation—an attempt to bargain.
If they could not cleanse their reputation, if death awaited sooner or later, he was already inclined to follow Thanos down this dark road. But if they won—if they became heroes afterward—must half of them still die, without regard for class, age, or privilege? Was that not too cold-blooded?
"Defeated? Old man, you should worry about how to survive this apocalypse of transition between the old and the new..."
Thanos withdrew his gaze at once, as though the question held no meaning. These decrepit old creatures, reeking of decay, were nothing but excess weight. With a wave of his hand, he signaled his guard to cut the transmission.
If fairness and randomness were not absolute, his faith—his path—would be flawed.
They knew what to do.
The Titan surveyed the lifeless world before him. All vitality had long since been extinguished.
They had no choice. This was the price of refusal.
"I will step over you, Gorgon."
Thanos raised his left hand and looked at the four Infinity Stones embedded in the Infinity Gauntlet.
Hummm...
Blue light flickered. Ripples of space spread outward.
Thanos sensed the spatial coordinates of 'Gorgon' and the remaining Time and Mind Stones... They had arrived at the edge of the Andromeda Galaxy nearest the Milky Way. Were they planning to rendezvous with the Shi'ar fleet and the Nova Corps?
Narrowing his eyes, he brushed his fingers over the embedded stones.
His muscles bulged further, explosive strength surging through his arm. Combined with the evolutionary metamorphosis of the Eternals and years of warfare experience, Thanos' physique and senses had reached their peak. The current him could defeat his former self within a single move.
But he still could not charge recklessly. If he could, he would have done so already.
To teleport alone via the authority of the Space Stone would be to deliver himself to 'Gorgon' for punishment. Thanos was no masochist. He had already learned his lesson from arriving prematurely before his fleets and generals had fully assembled.
The Time Stone... a troublesome authority indeed.
To suppress and exhaust that power, he would need to bring enough fleets—expendable material—to shatter her fleet's defensive shell with overwhelming planet-destroying firepower density, forcing her to scramble and consume ever greater reserves of stamina.
If 'Gorgon' could freeze a person's time, rewind an entire fleet—then let her freeze, let her rewind. If once was not enough, then a hundred times, a thousand times, ten thousand times, a hundred thousand times! A million times! Ten million times!
There would come a moment when she would be exhausted.
And until that moment, he would have to withstand her relentless onslaught. Thus, the fleet he assembled must be vast enough to endure prolonged attrition. All the forbidden weapons explicitly banned by interstellar treaties—he no longer cared. If the universe condemned him, so be it. If they besieged him, so be it. Bring them all out. Empty the arsenals.
Recalling every second of his clash with 'Gorgon,' Thanos evaluated every possibility with unprecedented solemn calm.
He knew clearly—she had not fought at full strength. As for why, he disdained to speculate. Perhaps she had ulterior motives. Perhaps she sought amusement. Perhaps she had reservations...
Whatever the reason, he would shatter any scheme with force. He needed only one objective—defeat her, tear her apart.
"I am no longer what I once was, Gorgon. You will regret not crushing me in a single battle."
Thanos had that confidence.
He had to.
"How can one ascend to heaven without passing through death?"
He repeated it in a low murmur. It was the truest interpretation of the path he walked—and his own judgment upon himself.
He would pass through hell. He would pass through death. And then he would arrive at the heaven that belonged to him.
Humm—
Thanos raised his left hand. Upon the Infinity Gauntlet, the purple Power Stone erupted with blinding radiance. Violent, berserk energy exploded beneath his boots in an instant. Deep violet fire chased across the expanding char of the earth, spreading over the entire surface.
When it was done, Thanos gazed in intoxicated satisfaction at the disintegrating, collapsing deathly celestial body.
The blood-red soil turned into rain... falling in scattered drops, carrying with it a marvelous and familiar scent. Thanos watched with relish. Before his eyes, an incomparably magnificent vision seemed to unfold. He smiled—because no matter how this celestial body had once roared at him among the stars... it now carried only the scent of death.
At that moment—
"My lord, Sanctuary III has arrived. The fleets at all levels have largely assembled."
His injuries fully healed, the long-faced sorcerer among the Black Order descended slowly, crossing his arms over his chest and kneeling on one knee in reverence.
Thanos inclined his head and reluctantly shifted his gaze toward his generals.
"The Obsidian Blade Legion stands assembled," declared Corvus Glaive, arriving with the Soul Blade in hand as he bent his knee.
Standing three to four meters tall, his massive dark-gold carapace gleaming with obsidian luster, the giant Black Dwarf struck his chest with a thunderous boom. "The Obsidian Overlord Legion stands assembled."
With deep blue skin and a tall, slender figure clad in a black-and-white bodysuit, her left arm encased in armor as dense as divine steel and shimmering with cold arcane light, Proxima Midnight held her golden spear upright before her chest. "The Midnight Legion stands assembled."
Graceful in bearing, draped in a pure white cloak, blue-skinned and more overtly feminine than Proxima Midnight, the telepath Supergiant of the Black Order bowed elegantly, her tone gentle.
"My lord, the Death Legion stands assembled. The ancient relic site you requested has been delivered."
"Then we march."
Without further words, Thanos stepped forward. He took his helmet from a golden-armored guard and placed it upon his head. Raising his left hand, blue light flared. An expanding spatial rift swallowed Thanos and his followers in an instant.
Roar!
Gales howled.
Scorching gaseous hurricanes tore apart the former landing site. Above the ruptured sky stretched an endless array of pitch-black warships blotting out the heavens—somber, solemn, deathly silent. Alongside them moved living bio-fleets composed of Leviathan behemoths and celestial motherships, surging past like a swarm of void-born insects—vast, clamorous, frenzied.
Shrrrk—
Within the black curtain, a spatial fissure spanning multiple star systems tore open.
The Black Order had begun its advance.
...
Deep and silent.
A long ascension stairway coiled and folded upon itself, extending endlessly.
All around was chaos. Countless mirrors densely filled the myriad faces of the staircase, interwoven with the star-filled sky into a labyrinthine sea of reflections. With every step forward, it seemed as though innumerable versions of oneself followed in lockstep.
A tiny armored figure climbed step by step along some faint, barely perceptible ancient vein.
...
This was the scene Selene perceived.
"Climb along the inherent path once walked by the ancient Celestials. This shall be your road to the heavens, Master Chief."
Opening her eyes, Selene lightly pressed her claw blade against the immense bright-silver metallic 'wall' before her.
"You need to control your size."
She leapt down from the gently sloping expanse of gleaming silver metal and tilted her neck back as far as she could, clapping her hands in astonishment.
A giant.
A radiant armored giant capable of wrestling a being of light.
Selene had just been standing upon his shoulder.
"I can feel it. I can't do it—not yet. Perhaps when I expand to the Empire's standard six hundred meters, I will be able to precisely control the vast and turbulent energy within my body."
The bright-silver metal giant slowly shook his head. His voice boomed like thunder, causing nearby observation windows to tremble and echo through the ship's upper armor layers.
Six hundred meters—the stage from infancy to stable development for a Celestial. At present, John was akin to an embryo in amniotic fluid, undergoing rapid growth, expanding every moment. Forcing him to shrink at this stage was nearly impossible. The disadvantages would far outweigh the benefits.
Selene thought silently.
After that, the longer they lived, heights of thousands of meters, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, even millions of meters were normal for Celestials. Height was merely an application of divine power. In other words, the greater the primordial base stature, the higher the status—and the greater the strength?
Clang...
The Master Chief lifted his chin and opened eyes bright as starship engine nozzles. Two masses of radiant golden light burst forth within them. Specks of shimmering luminescence emerged across his body. He glanced at the massive crimson Command Seals still etched upon the back of his right hand and nodded to Selene.
"The supply of magical energy is sufficient. I will remain on the upper deck for a period. Fleet command should remain stable under the Master Chief and the company captains, as well as General Esdeath and Lady Gorgon."
Master Chief John drew a deep breath, striving to avoid causing unnecessary damage to fleet equipment. His rising power had already damaged the surroundings once, only for Selene to rewind and repair it with the Time Stone.
Selene merely shrugged.
It had been less than half a week since they arrived at this assembly region—negotiated by the Shi'ar Empire, the Nova Empire, and hundreds of other cosmic powers. In that time, just as fleets streamed in endlessly from across the universe, Master Chief John's body had expanded from seven or eight meters to well over a hundred.
Even with Selene's aesthetic influence—bigger is better, build everything grand—the Imperial Navy ships had nowhere left to fit him. It was not as though they could store him in a warehouse or an ammunition bay.
Thus, at Cortana's suggestion, the Master Chief had been living directly upon the outer armor plating outside the ship's internal compartments.
He no longer required oxygen. Absorbing cosmic radiation under open space actually benefited the growth of a young Celestial.
Surrounded by massive battlement-like turrets, palace-style outer corridors, cathedral-like bridges, and Selene's sacred statues, the scene truly resembled a heavenly kingdom of giants.
As for the planetary core remnants towed back from Ego, and the ancient Celestial cerebrospinal tissue mined from Knowhere—there was no need to transport them inside the ship. They were hauled directly to the outer armor deck for the Master Chief to consume at will.
John's method of devouring—like a stellar furnace chewing—made even Selene feel tempted to take a bite.
Suddenly—
"Hm?"
Selene and the Master Chief raised their heads simultaneously, looking toward the same distant direction.
"The Gemstone is stirring. He is coming."
"Inform Cortana. Relay the intelligence to our allies," John said, looking at Selene. "Then let the new Heroic Spirit summoning ritual begin here..."
"Mm."
—
—
40 Advanced Chapters Available on Patreon:
Patreon.com/DaoOfHeaven