The collapse of Garonne wasn't gradual.
It was instant.
The surface split apart in every direction, massive fissures tearing through continents as if the planet itself had been ripped open by an unseen hand. Molten magma surged upward from the depths, flooding the cracks and spilling across the land in unstoppable waves.
Fire erupted everywhere.
Volcanic columns shot into the sky, their blazing light swallowing the atmosphere until the entire world looked like a furnace. The ground trembled without pause, tectonic plates grinding against each other in violent upheaval.
For the Kree still on the surface, there was no escape.
They ran.
They screamed.
But it didn't matter.
Within seconds, the advancing walls of flame and molten rock overtook them, consuming everything in their path. Some were swallowed by collapsing ground, dragged into the abyss beneath their feet. Others vanished beneath erupting firestorms that left nothing behind.
Thousands of years ago, the Kree had come to this world as conquerors.
They had wiped out its native population without mercy, erasing an entire civilization in the name of expansion. Now, that same world turned against them, delivering a final judgment they couldn't outrun.
Garonne had reached its end.
What had once been a thriving, luminous planet was now a vision of hell—an endless expanse of fire and destruction.
In orbit, the fleeing Kree task force could only watch.
No one spoke at first.
They had seen war before. They had witnessed destruction across countless systems. But this—
This was something else entirely.
A planet.
Gone.
Its cities, its infrastructure, its entire surface civilization—erased in moments.
"…How?" someone finally whispered.
Their faces were pale, their breathing uneven as the reality settled in. If they had hesitated even slightly, if their escape had been slower by even a fraction—
They would have been swallowed by that inferno.
"Damn it," one of them muttered, his voice trembling with anger and disbelief. "What did that Kryptonian do?"
No one had an answer.
Before they could even begin to process what had happened, something cut across their sensors.
A figure.
Fast.
A streak of black and silver tore through space like a falling star, closing the distance in an instant. It was Fiora.
"Enemy contact!" someone shouted.
They barely had time to react.
A crimson beam sliced through the void.
It came without warning, faster than thought itself. Two Kree were caught in its path, their bodies severed cleanly in half before the rest of the formation could even turn.
Blood drifted through space, forming a silent cloud of red.
"Return fire!"
The task force snapped into action, their earlier hesitation replaced by desperation. Energy blasts lit up the darkness as they fired back, trying to pin down the lone Kryptonian.
Fiora didn't slow down.
She moved through the battlefield like it belonged to her, weaving between attacks with effortless precision. An alloy blade appeared in her hand, its edge gleaming faintly as she closed in.
Then she struck.
Heads fell.
Bodies drifted apart.
In a single exchange, several more Kree were cut down, their confidence shattered alongside their formation. The bravado they had carried into this battle dissolved instantly.
This wasn't a fight.
It was a massacre.
They had wanted to prove themselves.
Now they just wanted to survive.
Far below, the true cause of Garonne's destruction revealed itself.
Locke had descended to the planet's core.
At the moment of impact, he had activated the Power Stone at full intensity—Level 10. It wasn't enough to shatter a planet outright, not yet. But it didn't need to be.
All he had to do was break its heart.
His fist, carrying unimaginable force, struck directly into the planetary core. The energy surged through it, destabilizing everything from within. Once the core failed, the rest was inevitable.
The crust fractured.
The mantle erupted.
The entire surface collapsed into chaos.
The planet still existed, technically.
But its civilization didn't.
Garonne had been reduced to a dying shell, its surface buried beneath lava and fire, its atmosphere choked with ash and sulfur. It would take ages—if ever—for it to recover.
From a certain perspective, Locke hadn't destroyed the planet.
He had simply… ended it.
"This is only Level 10," Locke thought to himself, a hint of curiosity passing through his mind.
The Power Stone, integrated into the Ultimate Evolution Module, had already reached terrifying heights. And yet, this wasn't its limit. At its peak, it could annihilate entire worlds without effort.
Not that he needed it.
Even without it, his Kryptonian physiology alone could achieve similar results. With enough acceleration, with enough raw force, he could punch through a planet the same way he had just broken its core.
The difference was efficiency.
The stone made it effortless.
His perception shifted.
Fiora's presence registered instantly.
Without hesitation, he activated the Space Stone.
The world blurred.
In the next moment, he stood in orbit.
The battlefield before him was painted in blood.
Kree bodies drifted through space, their formation shattered as Fiora continued her relentless assault. Even now, the remaining members fought back with everything they had, their modified bodies pushing them beyond normal limits.
Locke watched for a second.
Then he understood.
"A specialized task force," he said quietly. "Modified soldiers."
These weren't ordinary Kree.
They had been enhanced—genetically altered to unlock greater potential, likely inspired by encounters with Carol Danvers and similar anomalies. They were stronger, faster, more durable.
Still not enough.
"Another one!" someone shouted in panic as Locke appeared.
That was the breaking point.
"Run!"
Whatever courage they had left collapsed completely. They scattered, abandoning formation as they fled into open space, desperate to escape.
It didn't matter.
Locke's eyes glowed.
Twin beams of heat vision lanced through the void, cutting down fleeing targets one after another. Bodies split apart mid-flight, their escape ending before it could even begin.
A breath followed.
Flames erupted outward, sweeping across the remaining resistance and burning them where they stood. Their final attempts at retaliation vanished under the overwhelming force.
Silence returned.
"Let's go," Locke said.
He reached out, pulling Fiora alongside him as the Space Stone activated once more. The battlefield vanished, replaced by the endless stretch of the cosmos.
Far away, in the Large Magellanic Cloud, on the Kree homeworld of Hala—
An emergency transmission arrived.
Inside the central chamber, the highest-ranking officials of the Kree Empire gathered in silence as the report played.
"Garonne has fallen."
"The planetary core was destabilized, triggering catastrophic surface collapse. All infrastructure has been destroyed. Hundreds of millions of Kree lives lost."
"The attacker has been confirmed. The ruler of the Kryptonian Empire."
The room went still.
"…How?" someone asked, their voice tight.
Before the answer came, another report followed.
"All military installations were looted prior to destruction. Interstellar warships, rare metals, and all strategic resources have been taken."
That was enough.
"Bastard!"
The outburst shattered the silence.
One after another, the officials lost their composure, anger boiling over as the scale of the loss became clear. This wasn't just destruction—it was humiliation.
At first, Kryptonian activity had been treated as a nuisance.
An irritant.
Something that could be dealt with later.
Now, that illusion was gone.
"This isn't sabotage anymore," one of them said grimly. "They're feeding off us."
No one argued.
What had once been small-scale disruption had evolved into something far more dangerous. The Kryptonians weren't just attacking—they were harvesting, growing stronger with every strike.
"They're parasites," another voice said coldly. "Draining the empire to build themselves."
And if nothing changed—
That parasite would keep growing.
Until one day, it would burst free… from the corpse of the empire itself.
....
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