Chapter 17: What Have You Truly Saved?

"Help!"

"Help!"

"I don't want to die! I don't want to die!"

"You have no right to decide our fate! None!"

Three months later, in the vast expanse of the universe, within the Centauri Cluster, lay the planet Kalma. For ages, this isolated world had known only peace and tranquility—until today. That peace was shattered by the arrival of the Chitauri army.

The thunderous roar of artillery and the relentless assault of the fearless Chitauri soldiers overwhelmed Kalma's planetary defense systems. Under The Other's orders, the Chitauri, devoid of the concept of retreat, waged an unrelenting war of attrition. Their sheer numbers alone were enough to sow fear into the hearts of the once-proud and battle-hardened Kalmarians.

"Silence! If you value your lives, stay quiet! Otherwise, not even half of you will survive!"

As the invading forces fully occupied Kalma, The Other cast a ruthless gaze over the towering Kalmarians—each over two meters in height. A twisted, bloodthirsty grin spread across his lips.

Some whispered curses under their breath; others wept silently, tears streaking their proud faces. Yet not a single one among them chose to surrender.

They could lose the war, but they could never lose their pride. This belief was ingrained in the very bones of every Kalmarian, unshakable and eternal.

"Who are you?"

One of the elders of Kalma's High Council, his hatred buried deep within, stared at the invaders. These creatures, smaller than even the youngest Kalmarians, had arrived without warning, surrounding their planet with a massive fleet.

They were completely baffled.

Just days ago, they had been deliberating over how best to manage their planetary resources for future generations. And now, these grotesque, scrawny aliens had stormed their home with overwhelming firepower.

It made no sense. Were they facing some sort of legendary space pirates?

If so, the situation had become even more troublesome.

The elders exchanged glances, their eyes filled with resignation. They had no one to blame but themselves for being technologically inferior.

Their weapons were no match for the enemy's advanced armaments. The sheer firepower disparity left them defenseless. Worse still, the Chitauri knew no fear—willing to detonate their own bodies in combat. It had been generations since Kalma had faced a war of such brutality.

"We are the Chitauri, warriors of Chitauri Prime, loyal subjects of the great Titan's son, Lothar."

At these words, The Other leisurely stepped forward, his grotesque grin revealing rows of jagged teeth. He stopped before one of Kalma's high-ranking elders and continued:

"Our mission is to save the planets of this universe."

"And you… you are the first we have chosen to be saved."

"Consider it an honor."

"Hah—spit!"

Before The Other could finish his sentence, a wad of spit landed squarely on his face.

Instantly, his armor's automatic cleaning system activated, erasing the filth in moments. But nothing could erase the rage and humiliation burning within him.

He, the Grand General of the Chitauri, had never suffered such an insult in his life.

"Do you see this coin? Heads, you live. Tails, you die."

Just as he was about to rig the outcome with his abilities, the sky above rumbled—the unmistakable sound of a battleship descending.

Looking up, The Other saw Lothar's flagship approaching, its presence dominating the heavens.

Without hesitation, he abandoned his petty game.

In an instant, he dropped to one knee, bent forward, and placed his right hand over his left shoulder. His voice resounded with unwavering devotion:

"Great descendant of the Titan, ruler of Chitauri Prime, the revered son of the mighty Thanos—Lothar!"

"This crowded planet shall be liberated by your hand! It shall be redeemed!"

A figure clad in silver armor descended from the flagship. With an air of utter detachment, Lothar stepped onto the grand plaza where the captured Kalmarians were assembled.

His cold gaze swept across them. Those who met his eyes felt an unbearable chill creeping into their souls. One by one, they lowered their heads, unable to withstand his stare—not even for a second.

"Are they under control?"

"Completely secured, Prince Lothar," The Other responded, rising to his feet.

Thanks to the Chitauri's cybernetic-hybrid physiology, The Other could perceive the entire battlefield with a single thought. And from the reports he received, everything had gone precisely as planned.

"Begin."

With a single wave of his hand—just as his father Thanos had once done—Lothar initiated the "Planetary Redemption."

Screams of fury and anguish. Wails of despair and torment. The grand plaza was soon drowned in a symphony of suffering, echoing beneath Kalma's vast blue sky, lingering for eternity.

"No!"

"Stop!"

"You monsters!"

The raw agony of loss, intertwined with universal curses, poured into Lothar's ears.

Turning back, he beheld the plaza—now littered with bodies. This was but a fraction of Kalma's devastation. Every Kalmarian selected for death had met their fate.

"You call this salvation?!"

"What a joke!"

No longer bound by Chitauri restraints, the surviving Kalmarians clutched their loved ones' corpses, glaring at Lothar atop the steps.

Some, consumed by fury, even charged at him, breaking through the fear that had once paralyzed them.

"You monsters!"

A fist, fueled by rage, swung toward Lothar's face. He did not move. Instead, he merely raised a single finger.

The blow never landed.

"Look at them! Look at the dead! Look at the ruins of our world!"

"You talk about salvation—so tell me, what exactly have you saved?!"

"We have saved your planet's future," Lothar replied, his expression devoid of emotion.

He had witnessed this many times before—back when he stood at his father's side. In the end, they would all accept their suffering, bury their past, and guide their world toward a new path.

"The future?"

"What if the ones you killed were our future?!"

"Who do you think you are? Some kind of god? No! You are nothing but butchers! Self-righteous executioners!"

"Our future belongs to us—not to the whims of tyrants like you!"

"You will never, ever replace the laws of—urk!"

The enraged outcry was abruptly cut short. A crimson tail pierced through the Kalmarian's chest.

"Enough whining."

The lifeless body was tossed down the steps. Lothar's icy stare silenced the rest.

Without another word, he turned and left.

He cared little for salvation. That was his father's ideal.

He was merely ensuring its realization.

After all, right now, Lothar could see no hope of realizing his own.

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