Chapter 10: Arrival, Poised for Battle 

Centauri Star System, Alpha Star.

On this beautiful, uncharted planet yet untouched by civilization, an uninvited group of visitors made their descent today. An escape ship, scarred by relentless barrages of artillery fire, crash-landed in a once-tranquil valley. The thunderous shockwaves sent the local wildlife into a panicked frenzy, scattering them in all directions.

"Alpha Star... we've arrived."

Gripping the King's Scepter tightly, Nikkor gazed at the pristine, unspoiled world outside the ship. Leaning back in his seat, he closed his white eyes, savoring the bittersweet relief of survival. Under the cover of the Centauri planetary fleet, 150 of the most promising young Centauri elites had been divided into three "Seed" squads. Each squad, led by a captain, was bound for a predetermined destination — Alpha Star.

"Deaver, any news from the other two squads?"

Calming his turbulent emotions, Nikkor opened his eyes and watched as his team members disembarked one after another. His voice broke the silence.

"Your Highness Nikkor, I regret to inform you that Deaver has not detected signals from the other two escape ships."

A holographic projection of a human face appeared on the light screen before Nikkor, displaying all the data the AI had gathered. Nikkor's expression darkened.

According to Deaver's calculations, the probability that the other two ships had not broken through the blockade was a grim 100%.

"Are you mourning, Your Highness?"

"No... I'm furious."

Nikkor clenched the King's Scepter tighter. His sharp mind had already pieced together the truth. The so-called three "Seed" squads had been nothing but a decoy from the beginning. The other two ships were never meant to survive.

"Thanos... Chitauri... I'll hunt you down, one by one. I swear it."

Bloodshot veins crept into Nikkor's white irises. Against the backdrop of his purple skin, the expression on his face was nothing short of terrifying. The destroyer of his homeworld — Thanos — and the treacherous Chitauri were both marked for vengeance.

With only 49 surviving clansmen, Nikkor planned to rebuild Centauri civilization in a hidden corner of the universe, beyond Thanos' reach. They would grow in silence, exploit the resources of an entire star system, and one day... lead an interstellar fleet back to crush the Chitauri and tear Thanos apart with their own hands.

"Deaver, scan the surrounding terrain and locate a suitable settlement for us."

Anger could wait — duty could not. As the new king, Nikkor's responsibilities came first. Rebuilding Centauri civilization would be a long journey, and the first step was establishing a base on Alpha Star to weather the storm.

"Understood, Your Highness."

The obedient AI initiated its scans, but within three seconds, red warning lights flared across the ship's control panels.

"Alert! Alert! Unidentified star-class battleship rapidly approaching!"

"Alert! Alert! Unidentified..."

"Alert..."

The repeated alarms made Nikkor's face darken. For a warship to arrive so soon after their landing... coincidence was out of the question.

"Enemy attack! All units, prepare for battle!"

Descending swiftly from the escape ship, Nikkor's voice echoed through the King's Scepter into the minds of every Centauri warrior. The elite fighters formed special hand seals, channeling their life force in unison. The combined energy of 49 warriors surged into Nikkor's body through the scepter — an ancient secret art unique to Centauri.

The technique, pioneered by the first Centauri King, had no upper limit to the power it could amass — provided the recipient's body could withstand it. The first Centauri King, the architect of their golden age, had died from self-destruction after forcing the technique beyond his limits against a powerful enemy.

"The Black Order..."

As the ship descended, Nikkor's eyes narrowed. The vessel bore the unmistakable insignia of Thanos' Black Order.

Impossible.

How could they have known about Alpha Star?

The Centauri had meticulously concealed the planet's coordinates, intending to hoard its rich resources as a failsafe refuge. Even if the Black Order had come for them, the ship's size was far too small for a full assault. Did Thanos really believe a mere handful of soldiers could wipe them out?

The warship's hatch opened. A man clad in silver armor stepped out. His crimson tail flicked behind him, contrasting sharply with his jet-black hair. His cold, contemptuous gaze scanned the assembled Centauri warriors.

"Thanos' son... Lothar."

Nikkor's teeth clenched. The name alone was enough to strike fear into the hearts of countless beings across the galaxy. Where Nikkor was merely hailed as the Centauri's greatest prodigy, Lothar had already carved his name into history as Thanos' deadliest blade — the heart-piercing dagger of the Black Order.

"A fine planet... If not for the confirmed coordinates, I doubt anyone would have found this place."

Lothar's voice was as cold as the void. His sharp gaze took in every inch of the lush forest surrounding them. Step by step, he approached the Centauri formation, his very presence pressing down on Nikkor like a suffocating weight.

"So this was your escape plan all along — a sanctuary for the Centauri after the war."

Without another word, Nikkor raised the King's Scepter high. Countless spheres of crackling energy materialized behind him.

"Die!"

With a snarl, he unleashed a barrage of energy blasts toward Lothar.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Explosions ripped through the valley, shaking the earth and filling the air with smoke and debris.

Did it work?

Gripping his scepter tightly, Nikkor's heart pounded. But as the dust settled, Lothar's silver figure emerged — unscathed, his armor pristine.

Impossible.

Nikkor's blood ran cold.

"Pathetic... Is this the best the Centauri can muster?"

Lothar's disdainful voice cut deeper than any blade.

Time... If only he'd had more time to grow...

"Foolish Centauri... your kind has no place in the universe."

Lothar raised his right hand, palm open toward Nikkor and his 49 warriors.

One against fifty.

Energy swirled around Lothar, a storm of overwhelming power gathering for annihilation.

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