The moment Black Bolt regained consciousness, his instincts surged forward. The first thing he did was pull Medusa into a fierce embrace, gripping her like a man awakening from a nightmare—finding solace in the one person who never left his side.
Shen He, who had long anticipated this reunion, quietly stepped away from the scene, unwilling to intrude on the deeply personal moment or risk unsettling the recovering king's fragile emotions.
A quick glance at his wrist chronometer confirmed it: from landing on Attilan to resolving the rebellion, less than half an hour had passed.
"Master, all the wounded have received preliminary treatment," Jeanne reported as she stepped out from the triage zone, her silver armor still stained with ash and blood.
"Good. Thank you," Shen He nodded, his voice calm.
Since he intended to leave a good impression on Attilan, every gesture mattered. Jeanne d'Arc, whose very presence exuded empathy and light, was perfect for outreach. Her purity resonated with civilians—ordinary people instinctively trusted her, drawn to the sincerity that gleamed from her very soul.
Joan's gaze drifted toward Black Bolt and Medusa. They were locked in a long, tearful kiss—an intimate, public display of love she found mesmerizing. The emotion—raw, bright, beautiful—felt to her like a spring bloom breaking through frozen soil.
Love was something she had only ever observed from afar, like a miracle reserved for others.
Now… she wasn't so sure.
She cast a sidelong glance at Shen He, her cheeks faintly flushed.
Maybe—just maybe—that kind of tender warmth wasn't beyond her reach.
After ten long minutes, Black Bolt and Medusa slowly released each other, their bond having spoken volumes in silence.
With a steady stride, they approached Shen He. Along the way, the mute monarch raised a hand and began to gesture in his elegant sign language.
"There are no words that can convey our gratitude," Medusa translated, her tone carrying both pride and humility. "You saved us, saved our people—saved Attilan itself. From now on, you are honored guests of our city. May this rare alliance bloom into a radiant future."
All around them, Attilan's loyal guards and civilians—those still faithful to Black Bolt—bowed their heads with reverence.
They already knew what had happened.
The truth had spread like fire: Maximus had sought to steal the throne, had violated the sacred genetic laws, and nearly plunged Attilan into war with Earth. And Chaldea—led by Shen He—had put out the flames.
"What I said earlier still holds true," Shen He replied with a faint smile. "I believe Black Bolt will be a wise and just king. Chaldea stands with you—not as rulers, but as allies. Our purpose remains unchanged: we protect the rights of all sentient beings. We hope to one day see the Inhumans fully reintegrated into human society."
Black Bolt placed his hand over his heart and nodded with solemn grace.
"Before we leave, there's one more issue," Shen He added, his tone shifting slightly. "There's a group of Inhumans left behind on Earth. Though they were mistreated by Hydra, their leader is now moving toward revenge against all humanity. I suggest you reach out to them—quickly. There's still a chance to avoid unnecessary bloodshed."
He was, of course, referring to Jiaying—Skye's mother. A woman who had endured decades of torture and experimentation. Her hatred toward humans was old and deep, and unlike Maximus, hers was not born of ambition, but agony.
"We'll head to Earth as soon as we've stabilized Attilan," Medusa assured him.
"Then… one last thing," Shen He said, turning to the massive teleporting dog beside him. "We'll need to borrow the big dog again."
Lockjaw wagged his tail, as if already anticipating the journey.
Before teleporting away, Shen He glanced back at the shattered ruins of the palace.
Qi Mu Nanzi, standing beside him, raised her hand.
In the blink of an eye—time reversed.
The broken columns reassembled themselves. Crumbled stone floated upward like feathers on the wind, slotting into their original places with a soft crackle. The shattered throne melted back into shape. Ash retreated into walls, dust rewound into frescoes, and the once-grand palace returned to flawless form in under ten seconds.
It was not illusion.
It was reality undone and rewritten.
"Hiiisss—!"
Gasps spread like wildfire. Soldiers and civilians alike stared, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Some rubbed their eyes, convinced they were hallucinating.
Even Black Bolt stood stunned.
Compared to the apocalyptic destruction his voice could cause, Qi Mu Nanzi's power to undo that destruction was nothing short of divine.
Shen He gave her a subtle thumbs-up behind his back.
In the political theatre between Chaldea and Attilan, strength spoke louder than treaties. And this kind of strength? It rewrote negotiations before they began.
"Well then," Shen He said with a half-smile. "Let's not overstay our welcome."
With a firm pat on Lockjaw's neck, Shen He and his team vanished in a ripple of light, returning to Earth.
Steve Rogers had already escorted the prisoners back to Earth in a separate convoy. Shen He activated his comm unit.
"Jarvis, patch me through to Tony."
Tony picked up instantly. "You missed the fun. I just spent four hours trying to catch that bastard, and he's still evading me."
"Still running?" Shen He asked, brows raised.
"Stealth fighter. Supersonic. Cloaking field. It's like chasing a ghost. I might need to gut and rebuild my entire air fleet," Tony grumbled. "That plane I used? It's a design I built when I was twenty-eight."
"Twenty-eight?" Shen He blinked. "You're nearly forty. Isn't that an antique?"
"Watch it, monk boy. Age means refinement. Anyway—don't you have a teleporting dog? I sent you the target's route. Just pop over there and intercept. I've got a press conference and a billion-dollar contract to sign tonight. No time for jet tag."
Shen He chuckled. Tony was knee-deep in monetizing his latest enterprises—his Steel Corps initiative, Chaldea-backed clean energy projects, the Virtual Reality Grid with Shen He himself, and Dr. Helen Cho's regenerative medical startup.
Stark Industries had gone from weapons dealer to socio-tech juggernaut.
After receiving the pursuit route, Shen He armored up and teleported with his team to the target's last known coordinates.
High in the stratosphere, over an endless stretch of sea, Qi Mu Nanzi kept them aloft with ease, her thought power crafting an invisible field.
"…We should be on a cruise right now," Shen He muttered, staring down at the ocean. "A proper ship. Open-air BBQ stations. Surfboards. Fishing rods. Even a private beach. Everything was prepped."
He sighed wistfully.
Of course, swimsuits too.
There would be future opportunities—but he couldn't help feeling a little disappointed.
"Master…" Violet touched her chest, hesitating slightly. "This morning… I felt happy. Truly happy. Is that what people mean when they talk about the feeling of… joy?"
Shen He's expression softened. "It's not a perfect definition—but yes. That's close."
Violet tilted her head, then smiled—a rare, full smile that lit up her delicate face.
"Then Violet is happy… to be with Master."
Shen He blinked, warmth flooding his chest.
"…Me too."
He smiled back at her, radiant and genuine.
And just like that, the lingering regret disappeared.
The cruise could wait. What mattered most was that they had found happiness—even in a moment stolen from war.
Behind him, Jeanne pursed her lips. Her eyes flicked toward Shen He… and then away again, as though quietly making a decision.