"As expected... you truly did follow us to the end."
The moment Chisei Gen forced the heavy stone gates open, two figures materialized within the dim, cavernous expanse of the throne room.
Dr. Herzog stood tall before the dais, his silver hair immaculate. Half a pace beside him lingered Chinu Gen, chains clinking against his dark leather coat, a mocking, serpentine smile playing across his lips.
The two ghosts were etched into the very marrow of the Execution Bureau. Every scheme, every bloody betrayal orchestrating the feud between the Shadow Eight Families and the Oni Clan stemmed from these two men.
Yet Chisei's gaze did not linger on their faces for more than a heartbeat.
High above the dais, resting upon the throne of the Sky Monarch, the ancient Bone Reliquary Jar pulsed with a rhythmic, sickening heartbeat. It drank greedily of the crimson dragon blood pooling on the stone floor, exuding a primordial aura that choked the air.
"Intercept them!" Chisei roared, his hand snapping to the hilt of his blade. "We cannot allow the resurrection of a Dragon King!"
Yasha moved before the command finished echoing, unsheathing Kumo-Kiri and lunging across the flagstones in a blur of cold steel.
Herzog did not even turn around. His entire consciousness was bound to the ancient Draconic chant driving the resurrection ritual. The task of clearing the flies fell naturally to Chinu.
Facing the incoming blade, Chinu did not flinch.
His dark pupils flared, shifting instantly from pitch-black to a blinding, molten gold.
Simultaneously, the ambient air warped as Herzog's eyes mirrored the transformation. An invisible, suffocating tidal wave of pure White King Bloodline Authority swept across the great hall.
To the Hybrids of the Execution Bureau, it was an absolute genetic guillotine. The primordial emperor's gaze slammed into their nervous systems, forcing their muscles to lock up in agonizing paralysis. Chisei, Yasha, Crow, and Sakura dropped to their knees, their veins burning as their own blood turned against them.
For the Avengers and the Atlanteans, however, who carried zero draconic genetic sequences, the psychic wave registered only as a sudden, heavy pressure in the atmospheric density. Their motor functions remained completely intact.
"Well, you boys aren't looking so hot," Tony Stark's voice crackled through the external speakers of the Mark VII armor. "Aren't you supposed to be the resident Dragon Slayers? Getting grounded before the opening bell?"
Taunting the room was Tony's second nature, but his response was instantaneous. The gold-and-titanium armor stepped cleanly in front of the paralyzed executioners, repulsor gauntlets glowing blue as he stared down Chinu's golden gaze.
"Take a breather, kids," Tony said. "We'll handle the opening act. Avengers, assemble!"
In an instant, the Avengers surged to the front line.
Thrusters roared, carrying Iron Man airborne. Chinu tilted his head upward, only to catch the whistle of Hawkeye's specialized broadhead slicing through the air. Chinu swatted the projectile away with a casual flick of his sleeve, but failed to notice the microscopic electromagnetic disc bouncing beneath his boots.
BZZZZT!
A high-voltage synaptic pulse discharged instantly, locking Chinu's limbs in a brief seizure. Iron Man's twin repulsors fired in tandem from the ceiling, engulfing the dais in a blinding explosion of heat and concrete smoke.
Tony hovered downward, his thrusters humming. "He didn't seem quite as omnipotent as your dossier claimed. Are your scouts exaggerating the local myths?"
"B-Be careful..." Chisei wheezed from the floor, forcing the words through his clenched teeth.
The fact that the genetic suppression hadn't weakened by a fraction of a percent meant the blast had done zero damage.
The dust parted.
Chinu stood untouched, lightly dusting off his lapel with a bored expression.
"A quaint little mechanical toy," Chinu whispered, his golden eyes sweeping over Tony before locking onto the paralyzed patriarch. "Though... compared to you, dearest Brother, these foreigners lack any true elegance."
Chinu completely ignored the heroes standing between them, his gaze drenched in possessive malice.
"Talk about family baggage," Scott Lang muttered, shaking his head. "Your brother seems remarkably attached to you, Chisei. Maybe try a little therapy? Talk him down?"
Before the joke could land, the Avengers initiated their second wave.
Tony's shoulder plates clicked open, launching a swarm of smart micro-missiles. Simultaneously, Bruce Banner's eyes flared emerald. With a bone-shattering roar, his clothes tore to shreds as the Hulk exploded into existence, his green fists slamming into the bluestone floor.
"HULK SMASH!"
The micro-missiles detonated first, shaking the palace foundation with concussive shockwaves. Right behind the firestorm, the Hulk barrelled through the flames like a rampaging freight train, his colossal hands reaching to tear Chinu limb from limb.
The interior of the blast cloud erupted into deafening roars, metal impacts, and fracturing stone.
Blind firing into the smoke was impossible without risking Banner's life, forcing Tony and Clint to hold their fire.
Slowly, the violent roars subsided into an ominous, heavy panting.
As the smoke settled, every hero froze.
The Hulk stood amidst the rubble, veins pulsing across his green hide—but his bloodshot eyes were not locked onto Chinu Gen.
They were fixed in rabid, murderous hatred upon the Avengers.
Under the insidious whisper of Chinu's mental Yanling, Dream, the behemoth's primitive psyche had been completely inverted. To Banner's fractured mind, his teammates were no longer allies, but nightmarish demons clawing for his flesh.
"Enemy..." the Hulk growled, saliva dripping from his bared fangs. "All of you... enemies! Hulk will crush you into jelly!!"
With a furious leap that shattered the dais steps, the Hulk launched his massive bulk straight down at the ground floor.
"Damn it all!" King Namor spat, his face pale with fury as he shoved his guards aside. "Does this oversized beast carry no brain inside his skull?! Turned against his own kind in seconds!"
The Atlantean contingent occupied the widest section of the lower floor. Though the Hulk was targeting the Avengers, his trajectory landed dead center among the sea warriors.
CRASH!
Shattered stone and blue blood erupted into the air. With a single backhand sweep of his massive arm, the Hulk swatted a dozen Atlantean guards across the hall, breaking bones like dry twigs.
Seeing his royal guard slaughtered like cattle, Namor's patience snapped.
Brandishing his golden trident, the Sub-Mariner surged forward, the wings on his ankles flaring with speed as he launched himself toward the monster's throat. The divine gold blade flashed, aimed straight between the beast's eyes.
SLAP.
A massive green palm intercepted the strike mid-air, wrapping around the golden shaft like an iron vice.
The Hulk curled his lip into a mocking, predatory grin.
Namor's eyes widened in sheer shock. Before the king could draw another breath, the Hulk's shoulder muscles bunched, and with a casual flick of his colossal arm, he hurled Namor—trident and all—straight through the palace gates, sending him skipping across the cloud causeway outside like a pebble.
Seeing their sovereign violently ejected, the surviving Atlantean soldiers broke into a panicked sprint, scrambling out the doors in terror.
In a matter of seconds, the lower hall was cleared of fodder.
The Hulk slowly turned his bloodshot gaze toward Tony, Natasha, and Clint. Cracking his knuckles with sadistic glee, he lunged forward, raining down a barrage of chaotic, earth-shattering punches.
"We have to relocate this fight!" Natasha shouted over the comms, executing a desperate backflip as a green fist pulverized the floor where her heels had rested a second prior.
The enclosed space of the palace was a death sentence. Trapped between the rampaging Hulk, the paralyzed Dragon Slayers, and the White King's dais, their options had dwindled to zero.
"Get him into the open!" Tony fired his repulsors full-burn, baiting the monster's swing. "Out the gates! Move!"
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