Chapter 11
The void of space burned.
Countless warships—massive behemoths armed to the teeth—had already been ripped apart. Their twisted metal remains floated lifelessly, engulfed in flames that refused to die in the vacuum.
The surviving ships hesitated.
Loyalty to Corvus Glaive's orders clashed with a far stronger force—fear.
And fear was winning.
One by one, the warships broke formation and began to fall back, their commanders unwilling to sacrifice themselves to something they could not comprehend.
Lin Fan watched them go.
He let them.
This fleet would be his soon enough. There was no point in destroying what would eventually serve him.
A lone warship still drifted in the wreckage.
Lin Fan floated forward, phasing effortlessly through its hull as if it wasn't even there. The command deck was in chaos—officers scrambling, alarms blaring.
They never saw him coming.
With a flick of his wrist, a ray of pink light shot from his fingertip, striking the commanding Chitauri officer.
Instantly, the alien shrunk, twisted, and transformed.
A single piece of candy fell onto the floor where he had stood.
Lin Fan picked it up and tossed it into his mouth.
A pleasant sweetness spread across his tongue.
Memories flooded his mind.
Battle strategies, fleet commands, encrypted transmissions—everything the officer had known, Lin Fan now knew.
He chewed thoughtfully.
"So… Corvus never planned to show up himself, huh?"
Typical.
From what he had just learned, Corvus Glaive had given the order to attack, but he had remained behind—watching, waiting.
A coward's move.
Lin Fan exhaled, his gaze shifting to the retreating warships. The battle was over, and with it, his next target was clear.
The Dark Quadrant's capital.
Lin Fan turned his body slightly, adjusting his course.
Then—
Boom.
A sonic burst of energy erupted from his feet, sending him rocketing through the void. The force left a brilliant white trail, like a comet streaking across the darkness.
He was heading straight for the throne world of the Dark Quadrant.
---
Inside the palace, Corvus Glaive was seething.
The retreat of the fleet had sent him into a rage.
Proxima Midnight stood beside him, silent as ever. She had seen Corvus like this before—frustrated, cornered.
Supergiant, however, was less composed. Her expression was tense, her mind working frantically to make sense of the madness unfolding in front of them.
A Chitauri messenger stumbled into the throne room.
"M-My lord… the fleet… they… they've abandoned the battle!"
Corvus' grip tightened on his glaive. The ancient weapon groaned under the strain, its indestructible blade trembling.
"Waste," he spat. "Worthless waste!"
The Chitauri messenger flinched.
"They had over a hundred warships! And you're telling me they lost to one man?!"
The messenger trembled, unable to respond.
Corvus took a slow breath, forcing himself to calm down. "Fine. What of Temple One? Is it crippled?"
The Chitauri hesitated.
"Temple One… sustained no damage."
Silence.
Proxima Midnight narrowed her eyes.
Supergiant's fingers curled slightly.
Corvus stared.
Then he laughed.
A low, humorless chuckle.
The kind of laugh that masked something deeper.
Desperation.
It wasn't just Temple One that had survived.
The entire enemy fleet had been wiped out by a single individual.
Corvus had known Thanos' killer was dangerous. But this?
This was beyond comprehension.
Then—
A sound.
Not from within the palace.
From above.
A sonic explosion ripped through the atmosphere. The skies above the Dark Quadrant's capital ignited, clouds torn apart by the sheer force of something—someone—arriving.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
And then, a voice.
Loud. Commanding. Unstoppable.
"Corvus Glaive."
The walls of the palace shook.
Lin Fan had arrived.
---