As the Black Queen continued siphoning the divine energy from the shattered god-statue, her aura surged, growing heavier and more overwhelming.
A pulse of unnatural power rolled across the battlefield, and Ethan felt it like a punch to the gut.
He recognized that energy. He'd felt it once before, deep in the burning depths of Hell—inside Mephisto's domain. This was god-level power.
Demigods in the Marvel world were few and far between, beings who had transcended the limits of mortality. Only a handful came to mind: Mephisto from the Infernal Realm, Odin, All-Father of Asgard.
Now, was the Black Queen about to ascend to their level—using the last remnant of that lost meta-civilization?
BOOM!
The towering stone colossus crumbled into rubble, drained dry. The energy transfer had ended.
But something was wrong.
Cracks spread across the Black Queen's body like glass under pressure. Her human form couldn't withstand the transformation. It wasn't just physical—it was metaphysical. Her very soul was burning, reshaping.
A flicker of blue light sparked on her chest. It grew rapidly, engulfing her until she appeared larger than the god-statue she'd just destroyed. But it wasn't a physical body—it was her soul, projected outward, massive and radiant.
"She's close," Poseidon murmured from within his trident, voice somber.
All around them, the undead constructs she had summoned collapsed into dust, caught by the wind. She didn't need them anymore.
The Black Queen's soul-flame intensified. A new body was nearly formed. But just before completion—
"Nngh—!"
Her phantom form stuttered. The spectral body flickered, then shattered with a sound like breaking crystal.
Again, she forced the transformation. Her scream rang out as she tried to stabilize her essence. But again—it failed.
"No!"
Her expression twisted into disbelief. She had prepared for this day for centuries. Every contingency, every ritual, every step had been flawless. This shouldn't be happening.
"Perfect?" she whispered bitterly.
Her gaze dropped to the ruined fragments of the statue. Then something clicked. Her thoughts spiraled back to the fall of her people—the destruction of the past civilization by the gods.
"Have we been wrong all along?" she said to no one.
They had always believed that the gods destroyed their kind out of fear—afraid the metas would evolve too fast, gain too much power.
But what if the truth was worse?
What if the gods weren't afraid of their power… but their flaws?
What if the metas were inherently unstable? Broken by design?
"What if we were… defective?"
She trembled with fury. "Defective creations!" she screamed.
Nearby, Ethan narrowed his eyes. Her body was collapsing, her essence unstable. But he didn't move in for the kill.
"She's losing control," he said quietly. "But cornered animals are the most dangerous."
He remained cautious. Even in her broken state, the Black Queen was not to be underestimated.
Her burning soul pulsed erratically, destabilizing further. If she didn't create a new vessel soon, she would fade out of existence entirely.
She turned to Ethan.
Before he could react, space distorted around him—vectors twisted unnaturally—and he found himself pulled directly before her.
"Shit!" he snapped, eyes flaring. He raised his hand to repel her with a blast of reversed momentum—calculating the force needed to shatter air pressure around her.
But she moved faster.
She kissed him.
His body jolted.
A surge of power flooded him—not mental clarity, not understanding—but raw, biological stimulation.
It was like ice water in summer
. Every cell in his body lit up. His vector manipulation powers, once limited by his own physical constraints, were suddenly free of bottlenecks.
His ability to redirect force, cancel inertia, isolate gravitational vectors—everything snapped into sharper focus. He could sense the micro-tensions in his surroundings: the lift from the breeze, the subtle tectonic vibrations underfoot, the torque in her breath.
But this wasn't just an upgrade.
He felt something sharp. A drop of blood on his tongue—not his.
She had taken something from him, too.
The Black Queen swallowed it, and her glow shifted from blue to blood red. Her aura pulsed wildly—uncontrolled.
"BOOM!"
A shockwave exploded from her body.
Ethan was thrown back, skidding through the dirt, until Storm and the others caught him.
"You okay?" Storm asked, helping him up.
"Yeah," he muttered, eyes fixed on the smoldering crater.
In the center of the blast zone, her black robes fluttered to the ground, cradling something small.
"Did she… make it?" he asked, breath unsteady. For a brief moment, he thought he'd seen her soul solidify into a full new body.
But it was gone too fast to tell.
"Is she dead?" another asked.
All eyes locked on the black bundle.
Then—movement.
Something inside the robe shifted. The tension in the air thickened. No one dared breathe.
Then… a small head poked out.
A young girl. Maybe ten years old. Dark hair. Wide eyes. A faint fang showing in her smile.
She blinked at them, tilted her head, then slowly tried to stand.
Storm stepped forward, confused and instinctively drawn to her. "What is this?" she whispered.
"I still sense it," Poseidon's voice echoed. "She has the soul of a cosmic… but something is off."
They all stared in silence.
The rebirth of the Black Queen… was not what anyone expected.
The scene became awkward at that moment. On one side stood a young girl, barely ten years old, who looked as harmless as a stray kitten, struggling to stay upright. On the other side, a group of heroes and Atlanteans stood frozen, unsure whether to move in or hold back.
"Hey~!" The girl suddenly stumbled again, falling back onto the ground with a soft thud.
Ethan finally stepped forward.
"What did you just do to me?" he asked, voice calm but firm. His body felt...different. His usual control over vector fields was sharper, more defined, like he had broken through a mental limiter.
The girl looked up from where she sat on the curb, brushing dust from her black robe. Her eyes were clear, bright with something old and powerful.
"You should be thanking me," she said plainly. "When I siphoned off a fragment of the Eternal Genome from inside you, I offloaded some of my unstable cosmic power into your body. Consider it a bonus."
Ethan blinked. Eternal Genome? That aligned with what he'd read from SHIELD's restricted files. Modern metas were often the product of ancient genetic mixing—fragments of Eternal DNA woven into Homo sapiens by cosmic experimentation. That meant he carried a dormant echo of power from a time before recorded history.
"So that explains the surge," Ethan muttered, lifting his hand and focusing. The air around his palm shimmered as he manipulated the vectors around each molecule, creating a floating sphere of displaced gravity. "How do I optimize absorption?"
"Why would I tell you that?" the girl huffed, nose scrunching with childish irritation. "If I hadn't accidentally downgraded into this form, maybe I would. But right now? Not feeling generous."
Ethan kept his composure. "You've hit pseudo-cosmic status, sure. But you're unstable. Even your new body is struggling to sync with your essence. You can barely stand."
"Don't patronize me," she snapped, though her wobble said otherwise. "If I wanted to, I could turn Atlantis into a crater with one thought."
Namor, who had been inching closer with his trident raised, suddenly froze. He glanced around, then discreetly lowered the weapon and backed off.
Ethan gave a slight smirk. "I'm not saying you don't have the power. I'm saying using it might destroy you too."
"It's temporary," she muttered, clearly annoyed. "My current state is just a transition. Once I recalibrate my spiritual frequency with this vessel, I'll regain full control."
"Define 'soon'," Ethan challenged. "Human soon? Or demi-god soon? Because for your kind, a decade might as well be next Tuesday."
The girl narrowed her eyes. "What are you implying?"
"Let's work together. Until you're back at full strength, I'll protect you. In return, you guide me on how to master what you've given me. I want full control over this new level of vector manipulation."
She paused. It wasn't a bad deal.
"Atlantis will also serve you," Poseidon declared, appearing beside Namor and pressing the prince's head into a bow. "We do not wish to be your enemies."
The girl—once the feared Black Queen—glanced between Ethan and Poseidon, her lips twitching in silent calculation.
Ethan had nailed it.
She might act proud, but she knew her weakened state made her vulnerable. And a vulnerable cosmic being was a magnet for hunters. Hell's Lords, Celestial scavengers, the Brood… someone would come for her eventually.
"Deal~" she said after a moment, exhaling through puffed cheeks.
Ethan let out a quiet sigh.
Risky, yes. But better to keep her close than let her wander the world in this state.
"Don't just stand there," she snapped, glancing up at him with a small pout. "Help me up."
Ethan blinked. "...Seriously?"
Still silent, he bent down and helped her to her feet. She wobbled again.
Her small frame—no more than 1.2 meters tall—was wrapped in only a thin black robe.
Her knees knocked, not from cold, but from a lack of muscular alignment. Her soul and body were still syncing.
"You're falling apart," Ethan said bluntly.
"My current form is denser than vibranium," she countered, irritated. "The problem is metaphysical latency. My soul's signal is delayed in this vessel due to the Eternal genome's interference. I just need time to stabilize."
She stumbled again.
Ethan sighed and, without warning, scooped her up.
"W-What do you think you're doing?!" she protested, squirming like a startled cat.
"Saving time."
He slung her onto his back. She froze, red-faced.
"Lady Black Queen," Namor said cautiously, approaching, "can you now awaken the Atlantean Guardians?"
She huffed but didn't lift her head. "The moment I broke through, the field suppressing them dissipated. They're already back."
Namor bowed and quickly retreated, visibly relieved.
As Ethan began walking toward the exit, she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, still grumbling.
The rest of the group followed.
Namor himself acted as their escort, visibly nervous that the Black Queen might change her mind or, worse, spontaneously combust.
Ethan requested access to Atlantean tech and data archives. Namor, in full damage control mode, agreed without a second thought.
Two days later, the team boarded the sub, watched by a small crowd of curious, nervous Atlanteans.
Inside, the girl sat with her legs swinging off the edge of a bench, looking far too innocent for someone who had nearly ascended to godhood.
Ethan turned toward her.
"The Black Queen... that's a title, right? Do you have a real name?"
She didn't look up. "Call me whatever you want. The name's been lost to time. Selene. Luna. Others have called me many things. Doesn't matter now."
"Luna?" Ethan echoed. "As in the one who dances beneath the moonlight and can never die?"