"Deicide"—a word synonymous with absolute defiance.
It should have sounded absurd. And yet, Jennifer found she couldn't laugh at all.
His cheek was stained with blood. His tone was disturbingly calm. Even as Lothar said those words, he offered no further explanation, no dramatic flourish, only quiet certainty.
"You? What makes you think you can slay a god?"
Licking her dry lips, Jennifer found herself unable to meet Lothar's gaze.
She didn't even know why.
Was it... insecurity?
Or did she simply think Lothar was raving like a madman?
"I think Ego made it pretty clear," she said. "As an outsider, you're destined to be rejected by this universe."
"You can't even unleash your full power here. So what makes you think you can kill a god?"
"No matter how much you grow… do you really think Ego will just stand still and wait for you to catch up?"
All their planning, years of it, now seemed like a cruel joke. Jennifer's mindset was unraveling. Lothar's bold declaration grated on her ears like a dagger dragged across stone.
"Ego's words... what do they have to do with me?"
"…What?"
Jennifer struggled to pry Lothar's fingers off her collar, her gaze turning to him as if he were some kind of lunatic.
But his eyes only grew more mocking.
"Who is Ego to decide my fate?"
"I am who I am. My name is Lothar."
"My future is mine to shape, not his."
Lothar raised his index finger, the glint of mockery in his eyes causing Jennifer to bite her lip, while nearby, Hela watched the exchange with an amused smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"My father once told me: a true warrior never lets another's words shake his heart."
"Your father sure liked to talk," Hela quipped, unable to resist the jab.
"…Do you have a death wish?" Lothar turned to her, eyes cold as ice.
"Forget I said anything," Hela shrugged, casually finding a spot against a stone wall to sit and cross her legs, gesturing for Lothar to continue his little performance.
"So, tell me, what method did Gubo describe for forging divinity?"
Hela's interruption had broken his momentum. Lothar's voice grew sharper. "I won't ask a third time."
"And why the hell should I tell you anything?" Jennifer forced herself to meet his eyes again, but her defiance had lost much of its earlier fire.
"Because you don't have a choice," Lothar said flatly, tapping a finger against his temple.
"In this mind of mine, I've catalogued over six hundred non-lethal but crippling ways to harm a person. Nine hundred compound poison formulas designed to drive someone mad with pain. And over a thousand dissection techniques from worlds you've never heard of."
"Care to test my resolve?"
The icy gleam in his gaze made Jennifer's skin crawl. Every hair on her body stood on end. Her instincts screamed: he wasn't bluffing. Every word he spoke was true.
"Or perhaps…"
He gestured toward The Other, who had just recovered his staff.
"Would you prefer to experience the sweet agony of being enslaved by the Mind Stone?"
Suddenly thrust into the spotlight, The Other blinked. Then, sensing Lothar's intent, he stood and raised his staff. The gem atop it, cold and golden, glimmered ominously in the light.
"The method to forge divinity is—"
"Freeze!"
"Hands where I can see them!"
The revelation was cut short by a thunderous voice, filled with command.
Twenty heavily armed brutes appeared at the edge of the massive crater, their silver rifles all trained squarely on the figures below.
"Well, well," the leader sneered, snapping his shoulder strap with relish. The sound of leather slapping against bronze-toned muscle made him bristle with twisted anticipation.
Especially when he got a good look at Hela and Jennifer.
One with long, jet-black hair, legs elegantly crossed, a smirk as sharp as a blade, her very presence pierced his chest like an arrow.
The other, golden-haired and lost, her vacant eyes brimming with sadness, her fragile appearance made him ache to "comfort" her.
It had been far too long since such high-grade "trash" landed on Sakaar.
Ignoring Lothar and The Other completely, the brute's grin widened.
"Hey, you two, what kind of trash are you?"
"…Huh?"
Hela paused mid-leg-swing, the look in her eyes sharpening into something deadly.
"Do you even know who you're talking to?"
Spinning her longsword effortlessly in one hand, Hela exuded a deadly grace, noble and murderous all at once. The man's heart nearly stopped.
"Anyone dumped here has one name and one name only, trash."
The words had barely left his mouth before a blade flash filled the air—
And his head hit the ground.
A clean decapitation. Blood sprayed across the dirt.
"OPEN FIRE!!!!"
No one had expected the brute to die. But as his corpse slumped, the second-in-command shouted the order in sheer panic.
Shnk-shnk-shnk!
Ratatatatata!!
Boom-boom-boom!!
Gunfire erupted. Flame and metal screamed through the air, consuming the crater in a storm of bullets and fire. Smoke billowed into the sky, blotting out the sun.
"Team Two, move in and confirm kills! Team One, transmit battle logs to HQ and prepare for backup!"
At once, the soldiers slammed their armored chestplates. Silver-white tactical armor flowed over their bodies like quicksilver, encasing them fully.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Suddenly, alarms blared from their energy scanners.
From within the smoke, a single blood-streaked figure plummeted from above, energy blazing from his palms—
BOOM!
A burst of silvery-white force engulfed nineteen stunned soldiers, and everything around them, including half the junkyard, vanished into dust.
"Lord Lothar," Woz said as a holographic scan lit up beside him, "they were soldiers under the Grandmaster's command."
Woz displayed detailed models of the twenty-man unit.
As the ruler of Sakaar and founder of the Grand Arena, the Grandmaster had a never-ending stream of underlings, most of them exiled filth from other planets, now all well-controlled under his dominion.
"So this whole planet is under his thumb?" Lothar frowned, paying no attention to the trio behind him, each still holding up energy shields.
"Not entirely, Lord Lothar," Woz corrected. "Some powerful individuals maintain only temporary alliances with him."
"As for the soldiers, they're far from elite. The true monsters, the strongest exiles, he keeps in the Grand Arena."
The holographic display flickered again, now showing detailed data on Sakaar's famed gladiatorial battlefield.
...
Meanwhile, in the Grand Arena...
"Lothar, son of Thanos."
"Hela, daughter of Odin."
"Jennifer, a disciple of that damn undying Gubo."
"Well now… looks like that old fossil sent me quite the gift set."
Having just finished his breakfast, the Grandmaster leaned back lazily, watching the recovered footage of the obliterated scouting party. He compared it to his database, and a satisfied smirk slowly crept across his face.
"Delightful."
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