Locke's raised right hand tightened into a fist.
A low hum spread outward, followed by a violent surge of energy as the purple radiance of the Power Stone burst into motion. The invisible force rippled across space itself, reaching far beyond the atmosphere in an instant.
Then—
Detonation.
The orbital satellite weapon locked onto him didn't even have time to fire. It erupted into fragments, torn apart by an unseen pressure that crushed it from within. Unlike before, Locke didn't bother dragging it down.
He simply erased it.
"Still don't learn," he said coldly.
His gaze shifted again, locking onto a distant formation cutting through the sky. A fresh wave of Kree fighter fleets was approaching, unaware—or perhaps unwilling to accept—what awaited them.
To Locke, it was nothing more than another delivery of targets.
The air distorted.
Gravity bent again under his control.
With a single pull, he reached not just for the fleet in the atmosphere, but even further—grasping the remnants of orbital debris and satellites drifting in space. The invisible threads tightened.
Then he dragged everything down.
A sharp, tearing whistle screamed through the air as dozens of ships lost control at once. Their engines roared uselessly against a force they couldn't counter, and panic flooded the pilots' voices as they plummeted toward the planet.
"No—pull up! Pull—!"
Too late.
The sky rained fire.
Explosions blossomed across the surface as ship after ship slammed into the ground, detonating in rapid succession. Flames spread outward, devouring what little remained intact.
Locke lowered his gaze, already understanding the Kree's next move.
"They're desperate," he said. "They're going to start indiscriminate bombardment."
He didn't need confirmation.
Their behavior made it obvious. If they couldn't stop him directly, they would erase everything—assets, installations, even their own territory—just to deny him the spoils.
He looked toward his forces.
"Speed it up."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Far across the battlefield, inside the No. 3 Libra Interstellar Base, the fight had already ended.
Fiora stood alone amidst the ruins.
The once-secure installation had been reduced to wreckage, as if a hurricane had torn through it. The ground was split open, buildings crushed or overturned, and the air still carried the lingering echo of her power.
Unlike the others, Fiora had reached a higher stage.
Under prolonged exposure to stellar radiation, she had awakened a new ability—Super Roar. The destructive force of it had swept through the base, obliterating resistance with overwhelming pressure.
Now, silence remained.
She wiped the blood from her blade with a calm, practiced motion, her expression returning to its usual cold composure. The faint crimson glow in her eyes faded as the battle ended.
Then she felt it.
A presence.
Familiar. Overwhelming.
She straightened immediately, her posture shifting into disciplined respect. "Your Majesty."
Locke stepped forward from the air, his figure descending with effortless control.
"Fiora," he said, his tone carrying a rare hint of approval. "You handled this well. You're ready to operate independently."
A flicker of emotion broke through her icy demeanor.
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
"Prepare to withdraw," he continued. "They're initiating self-destruction."
Her gaze shifted briefly toward the base's storage zones, where massive reserves of materials and ships remained. "What about the resources?"
Locke didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he raised his hand.
The Space Stone emerged once more, glowing with deep blue light as it hovered above his palm. The air warped, twisting into a spiraling distortion.
Then it opened.
A massive vortex formed overhead, black at its core, radiating an overwhelming pull. The force intensified instantly, locking onto every object within range.
Ships lifted off the ground.
Massive interstellar vessels, too heavy for conventional transport, were dragged upward as if weight meant nothing. One by one, they were pulled into the vortex, disappearing into its depths.
Within seconds, the entire landing zone was empty.
Nothing remained.
Fiora watched the display, her respect deepening even further. "Your Majesty is unmatched."
The vortex collapsed just as quickly as it had formed, condensing back into the Space Stone before returning to Locke's hand.
"Let's go."
Their forces had already begun withdrawing across the planet, passing through portals and regrouping beyond Garonne. They were the last to leave.
Both figures rose into the sky.
As the horizon stretched before him, Locke's lips curved into a faint smile.
He wasn't done yet.
In orbit, a new force had arrived.
A Kree task force from the Lionheart Galaxy had answered the call for reinforcements. When they first received the transmission, they had assumed it was exaggerated—an isolated incident, perhaps a rogue attack.
Then they saw the truth.
The core command was gone.
Entire military installations had been wiped out.
And now—
Two figures hovered in the sky.
"That's him," one of them said quietly. "The Kryptonian leader."
"And the woman with him… another one."
Shock rippled through the formation. Reports had already hinted at multiple Kryptonians, but seeing them firsthand was something else entirely.
"So it's real," another muttered. "There's more than one."
The name alone carried weight.
Superman.
Over the years, the Kree Empire had encountered beings like Carol Danvers, and from those encounters, they had begun experimenting—modifying their own soldiers, unlocking latent potential, pushing their evolution forward.
This task force wasn't ordinary.
Many among them had undergone genetic enhancements, granting them abilities far beyond standard Kree soldiers. Strength, durability, energy manipulation—each one was a weapon.
And today, they had a chance to prove it.
"He's looking at us."
A ripple of tension passed through the group.
"Good," someone said, a grin forming. "We'll finish this fast."
"Don't underestimate him," another warned.
"Afraid?" the first shot back. "We're not the same as the ones he slaughtered down there."
Confidence rose.
Ambition followed.
Taking down a Kryptonian—taking down their leader—would mean everything.
"Move in."
They advanced.
Then something strange happened.
Locke… descended.
He dropped from the sky, heading straight toward the surface instead of engaging them in orbit.
"He's running?" someone said, disbelief creeping into their voice.
"That doesn't make sense…"
The realization came too late.
Boom.
A sound like the world itself breaking echoed upward.
Every head snapped downward instinctively.
"What is—"
The planet cracked.
Massive fractures tore across the surface of Garonne, spreading outward in jagged lines. Entire continents split apart, the crust ripping open as molten magma surged upward from beneath.
The ground didn't shake.
It collapsed.
"What did he do…?"
The cracks widened, glowing with unbearable heat as lava flooded upward, consuming everything in its path. Volcanoes erupted across the planet, spewing fire into the sky, turning the atmosphere into a burning storm.
The scale was incomprehensible.
This wasn't destruction.
This was annihilation.
"He… destroyed the planet?"
No one answered.
They didn't need to.
Garonne was dying.
The Kree task force broke formation instantly, fear replacing every ounce of confidence they had carried moments before. They fled upward, pushing toward open space as the world beneath them descended into chaos.
Behind them—
The planet burned.
And Locke rose from its dying surface, as if the collapse of an entire world meant nothing at all.
....
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