A strange silence descended in an instant, only to be shattered the next second by a surging shockwave. The invisible force roared forth, sending Diana's jet-black hair billowing wildly.
Her burgundy strapless gown clung stubbornly against the tempest, its last vestige of defiance as clothing. Astra, standing to the side, smacked his lips in disappointment, reluctantly taking a swig of her drink. He kept his gaze fixed on Diana, amusement and anticipation dancing in his eyes.
"Has anyone ever told you," Diana spoke, utterly unfazed by Astra's gaze, "that staring at a woman like that is quite impolite?"
Since coming of age, she had long grown numb to such looks. Instead, she only straightened her posture with even greater pride.
A perfect body—the universe's favor upon her.
"My father always said that in battle, there are no men or women—only victors and the defeated." Lothar's lips curled into a disdainful smirk. His grip on the golden whip tightened as his left hand clenched into a fist, driving it straight toward the proud woman standing before him.
If words wouldn't work, then he'd simply beat her into submission. His approach was simple.
The decisiveness of his strike made Astra shake his head, clicking his tongue in mock disapproval as he watched.
"I hate that saying. You know why? Because it reminds me of that old bat next door."
"Of course, it's not wrong," she continued. "I just don't like your tone."
"So now, let me teach you how a man should speak to me. How a man should speak to a queen."
"Kneel."
A tidal wave of power erupted from Diana's body. The sheer force coalesced around her, manifesting into a dazzling royal sword that slashed toward Lothar's shoulder. It moved so fast that even The Other's cybernetic network failed to track it.
Clang!
The metallic clash rang through the vast hall, jarring in its sharpness. The energy shockwave sent up a storm of dust, catching both The Other and Astra off guard, hurling them backward and shattering the overhead lights.
Landing on his backside, Astra winced in pain. "Damn, that energy output! A few more hits like that, and I might qualify for Torfa's Best Rear Contest."
"When did every stray cat and dog start calling themselves kings?"
The battlefield lay in ruin. Lothar stood unfazed, two fingers pinching the golden sword mere inches from his shoulder. His expression radiated nothing but disdain.
That level of power—at best, it was the equivalent of two Helas. Hardly a threat. To make him feel true danger, it would take at least three.
His father always said his evolution outpaced light itself.
With a sharp snap of his fingers, the massive golden blade shattered instantly.
Shards of golden energy rained upon Lothar's shoulder. Sensing imminent danger, Diana launched herself backward—but she was still too slow.
The golden whip's circular shield failed to hold up. Lothar's powerful leg swept through both it and Diana's abdomen.
In a heartbeat, Diana felt as though something had pierced straight through her. The searing pain tore a gasp from her lips, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth onto the ground.
"Impossible." Diana stared at the shattered shield beside her, wiping the blood from her lips. Her eyes widened in shock.
That was a sacred relic, worshiped for generations in her homeland—unbreakable, they said.
"My father said," Lothar stepped forward, his silver battle boots gleaming under the shattered lights, "that in this universe, nothing is truly impossible."
He pressed his foot down on the golden shield, towering over the fallen queen, his gaze cold as the void.
Whether it was from pain or humiliation, Diana's face flushed red. She wanted to speak, but the words that escaped her mouth carried a different tone than intended.
"Who are you? What do you want on Planet N52?"
"I have no interest in your barren little world," Lothar crouched down, gripping Diana's delicate chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Now, tell me—where is your warship?"
Lothar was pleased. This was the natural order—power ruled.
"Your Highness Lothar, our warship has been detected by the Kree," a sudden voice chimed in from Lothar's wrist communicator. In an instant, the projection of the blue robotic cat, Woz, materialized before him.
With a flick of its tiny paw, a holographic screen displayed an image of Kree soldiers. Leading them was a blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman.
"Accuser Vanas?" Diana immediately recognized the woman at first glance. "I see… so you've managed to offend the Kree?"
Having dealt with the Kree Empire frequently, Diana was well-acquainted with its Supreme Accuser Tribunal.
"No… something doesn't add up." Her brows furrowed. "With your strength, one Vanas shouldn't be enough to stop you—even with an entire fleet. Unless… there's something else holding you back."
"Has anyone ever told you," Lothar's grip on Diana's chin tightened, drawing a small whimper of pain from her lips, "that you talk too much?"
"Your Highness Lothar, the Kree fleet has arrived in Planet N52's orbit."
"Your Highness Lothar, another massive fleet has appeared on the opposite side of the Kree. Preliminary analysis identifies them as the Skrull Empire's forces."
Woz's back-to-back warnings made Lothar's brow furrow deeply.
"You managed to provoke both the Kree Empire and the Skrull Empire at the same time?"
Diana's lips curled into a smirk. "I take back what I said earlier. Now, you do seem like a man."
To have both empires deploy such enormous fleets simultaneously—she was genuinely curious now. Just what had this man named Lothar done?
Desecrated the Kree ancestors' graves? Or plundered the tombs of the Skrulls' forefathers?
Given the history of Planet N52, those were the first explanations that came to Diana's mind.
Since their agreements with both empires, this was the first time their fleets had appeared over N52 together.
"I told you—you're not getting me off this planet," Astra sighed dramatically, rummaging through his belt for another bottle of liquor. When he came up empty, his expression turned even more somber.
"Damn. Where's all the booze gone…?"
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