"A war that sweeps across the universe... a clash of ideals, a divergence of faiths, a battle between good and evil. A hero... or a savior... or perhaps a mad destroyer."
"To give everything, to cross the final and most arduous obstacles, to seize from victory an ever-rising confidence and sweetness—this is the foundation of ascension. It is how you please... ah, no, how you realize, how you fulfill. It is also the final embellishment you lay upon the curtain before your own fall. But..."
"Will reality truly unfold as you wish?"
Selene smiled faintly. With a delicately contoured claw blade, she traced a light arc across the writing screen, circling a massive purple figure resembling a panda-like titan and the words "confession of love," then gently tapping them.
"You love Her. You give everything in an attempt to unify personal worth, ideals, mission, and adoration into perfect harmony—hoping that when the curtain falls, you may rest in Her cold embrace."
As if recounting a fairy tale too absurd to fool even herself, the Beast Goddess' precisely measured aloofness accentuated the elegant curve of her jaw—a curve of pity.
"Simps never die well."
A cold smile surfaced on Selene's crimson lips.
Whether through the prying of this Gorgon Servant body aided by the Time and Mind Stones, or through [Eternal Selene] stirring and observing the endless spacetime veins of the Marvel world, or through the forbidden knowledge sealed within her true self—never once had Selene seen or heard of the Mad Titan winning the beauty's heart and capturing the affection of the [Death] Goddess.
Not once.
It was always abandonment, abandonment, and abandonment again—dangling hope, only to abandon once more...
Even within certain sealed, erased, utterly voided timelines of the cosmos—where the Mad Titan surpassed all things, even transcending the so-called "Supreme"—the [Death] Goddess had never loved him. As for forcing the [Death] Goddess to fall in love through manipulation, that held no real meaning.
"The disparity. You will experience an utterly hopeless disparity."
Selene rose from the desk in her private cabin, folding her arms across her chest as her claw blades lightly traced along her smooth, flawless neck and cheeks.
Whether events would unfold according to her wishes, Selene did not know. Plans were meant to be disrupted. What in this world had ever been completed exactly as planned?
Everyone was the same. She was merely slightly more rational about it.
"But before that, I will do my utmost to lift you up, to let you soar. The same goes for them. To lift you..."
Selene stepped out of the room and looked toward each warship carrying the Earth Conscription Army.
...
"So that means we're all members of the Earth Conscription Army now. Well, Thor probably doesn't count. He's the Prince of Asgard—more like an Asgardian volunteer. Banner, even if you went back to Earth, I bet the authorities would just slot you into the next batch of conscripts anyway. You might as well join directly. I recommend—"
"Wait, wait, Tony, let me sort this out."
Faced with Tony Stark's enthusiasm—his apprentice badge from the Avicebron Workshop pinned to his chest, the posture of a senior recommending a job—Bruce Banner, who had just extricated himself from registration and interrogation by a Demon Inquisitor Chapter warrior, wore a complicated and strained expression.
Working alongside Stark on research... the Ultron crisis!
After a long moment, Dr. Banner rubbed his forehead and looked up. The first thing that caught his eye was the towering corridor behind Stark. Platforms forged from stone and red gold gleamed brilliantly. Triumphal archways stood tall, commemorative pillars engraved with deeds of valor rose on either side, and beneath the embrace of statues depicting heroic warriors stood the sacred image of the Divine Empress.
His eyes widened.
Only now did he have the time to carefully observe his surroundings.
He had been transported here in Hulk form. Upon entering the safety of the pressurized shielded environment, he reverted to human form, was immediately sent to a medical ward, awakened, stirred up by Stark and Thor, then seized by a silver-armored giant...
After all that chaos, Dr. Banner—who had only just awakened and had not eaten or even touched water for nearly two days—was utterly exhausted, physically and mentally drained. The one who was fierce was Hulk, not him. At least, not now.
"The Divine Empress Order... Christ... have you all converted..."
Dr. Banner was genuinely curious about what kind of organization this Divine Empress Order was. The interior of the starship was constructed like a cathedral-temple hybrid. It truly carried a strong religious atmosphere. Like Asgard, it was probably a fusion of magic and science.
"If you think so, then sure. Hey, we'll talk about that later. Banner, you're not seriously thinking about joining the Marines, are you? I tried that once. Trust me, it was miserable..."
"Then what can I do? Hulk refuses to come out..."
"Hey, stop thinking about smashing things on the front lines with your fists. See those heavily armored giants? Demon Inquisitor Chapter warriors. They don't lack one declining green giant. You're a genius with seven doctorates—nuclear physics, radiological physics, biochemistry, engineering, robotics, computer science, and mathematics. Come study golemcraft with me! I've got a new idea..."
"Don't! Tony, have you really thought this through this time? If we start meddling in fields we can't control or predict and trigger another crisis... would we be burned at the stake for blasphemy? Or hanged?"
Banner glanced at the sacred image of Empress Selene, unsure where to place his hands in respect, muttering under his breath.
"Relax, relax. Master Avicebron will supervise us. Besides, just file proper reports. If there's an accident, we deal with it. With so many super soldiers here..."
"Look at them... Thor the God of Thunder, Stark the Iron Man, Hulk the Green Goliath—famous Avengers, all of them conscripted here. When you think about it, we should probably feel honored. Right, Frank?"
Watching the three former Avengers disappear around the access-corner side by side, a soldier of the Earth Conscription Army standing by the railing exhaled a ring of smoke. He turned slightly and gestured casually to the burly man resting after finishing strength training nearby.
Black hair, black eyes, tall and powerfully built. A signature slicked-back hairstyle. Thick arms crisscrossed with scars. A tight black shirt emblazoned with a white skull across the chest—combined with his comrade's address, it made his identity unmistakable.
The Punisher—Frank Castle.
A quintessential anti-hero, his kill-the-guilty-without-exception creed stood in sharp and often violent conflict with many superheroes' principle of minimizing or outright avoiding lethal force.
"That's their business. It has nothing to do with us. We just do our job and answer to ourselves. Superheroes don't belong here..."
With the Kree having successfully fulfilled their commission to annihilate the Skrull warlord, the fleet received both supplies and ample combat tempering. Now, aside from several sub-fleets executing minor cleansing contracts against scattered Skrull forces in nearby systems, the main formation of the 117th Fleet had reassembled within this temporary garrison system.
The Earth conscripts—once dispersed across various star systems and planetary battlefields, undergoing multiple trials by war—had also returned alongside their Imperial officers and the Heroic Spirit Servants who had honed them.
For the superheroes, anti-heroes, and supervillains from Earth, this period of garrisoned rest was an experience difficult to describe.
For example, the Punisher, Frank Castle, and those street-level heroes who had always despised his lethal methods now met in complete silence. Here, everyone was a soldier—a human soldier of Earth slaughtering the alien Skrull race that had secretly infiltrated their world.
Here, Frank encountered former enemies—Barracuda, Pyro Johnny, former CIA senior agent William Rawlins, Rampage, the mob enforcer Executioner... too many to count. Some stood upright. Some lay flat. Some had already been reduced to sealed coffins.
Even Wilson Fisk, one of the underground kings of New York, had been conscripted here. Many of New York's street heroes were instantly incensed upon seeing him, shouting that they would kill him, filing complaints to auxiliary officers, denouncing Fisk's criminal empire back on Earth.
The Punisher watched the entire spectacle like an audience member.
He merely found it a pity that the one who had clashed most bitterly with Fisk—the man who had fought him through repeated life-and-death struggles—Daredevil, was not here. Nor was Spider-Man, who had only recently begun opposing Fisk's criminal operations in New York.
The former was blind. He had not even passed the basic physical screening conducted by the American authorities. As for Spider-Man... worse. A minor. He had not even been placed on the screening list.
"How curious... If God exists, this might be the most fitting punishment for them," someone murmured.
"...The Divine Empress allows them to atone. Death does not erase sin. Fighting for Earth, for humanity—at least these scum are fulfilling their duty as human beings."
As a former U.S. Marine, a captain, and a Medal of Honor recipient, Frank Castle possessed not only his blunt creed of blood-for-blood justice but also a sense of patriotism and responsibility stronger than that of most superheroes.
The Skrulls' secret infiltration and replacement of humans on Earth was an act of war. Thus, the Divine Empress Order's decision to take the knife to the Skrulls struck directly at the hearts of many Earth conscripts like Frank. It also eliminated numerous potential sources of friction.
"It seems you have learned to step back. Brutality is a method, not your nature."
At some unknown moment, a towering figure resting both hands upon a planted sword appeared at the Punisher's side.
Nearly two meters tall, the figure was not as massive as a Demon Inquisitor Chapter warrior, yet equally lethal—perhaps even more terrifying.
Like a tower constructed from corpses.
Beneath a cloak black as night lay heavy dark steel armor. At its chest, a ferocious skull burned with faint blue flames. A pale bone mask covered his face, suffocating to behold. Wisps of ghostly blue light drifted from the hollow eye sockets, emanating an unsettling aura.
"Sir!" ×N
The moment this figure appeared, the Earth conscripts in the area instinctively straightened in solemn attention.
Because this figure was their formation's direct "old mentor."
They had survived the most difficult adaptation period under the leadership of this man—who always referred to himself as an Assassin, yet wore heavy armor and wielded a greatsword, charging across battlefields like a berserker.
"There is no need for fear, soldiers. The title of officer is unnecessary. I hold no military rank. You may address me as the Old Man of the Mountain."
King Hassan's voice was like a deep well, anchoring itself firmly in the hearts of those who heard it—low, hoarse, and carrying a peculiar gravity.
"You are in a period of growth. Control it. Conduct yourself with restraint and discipline."
The cold skull mask regarded Frank Castle.
Perhaps it was appreciation for talent. In his eyes, this fine young man possessed the potential to become something better, to go further. If given the opportunity—if the Assassin order still existed—perhaps he might even have become a candidate for Hassan.
"As for the 'God' you speak of... in my world, at least, He exists." He gestured toward a distant direction.
Frank followed his gaze to the massive stained-glass wall across the training deck.
Within the image, he saw a silver-haired goddess, her proportions exaggerated, bathed in radiant light. She stood holding a halberd, sun, moon, and stars revolving at Her side. Countless beings knelt in reverence and devotion before Her.
"If I die... will I see Her?" Frank murmured.
There was no answer. King Hassan spoke in his indifferent tone: "Do not die." After that, he said nothing more. He was always like this.
The Punisher paused.
Veteran instinct allowed him to grasp the meaning behind those words.
Another war—an even grander war—was approaching.
"A new war is coming."
Returning from deployment under Diarmuid Ua Duibhne's formation, Jean Grey crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. Her crimson hair cascaded down to her waist. Around her, mutants led by Wolverine and Cyclops also leaned casually, quietly listening to the news she had brought back.
"Since we got here, haven't we been fighting every day?" Wolverine—Logan—looked even more weathered than before. Management was exhausting. He shrugged, attempting to lighten the mood.
"This is different. Commander Diarmuid and the other commanders have all been summoned," Jean replied. It was Diarmuid's knightly conduct that had made him popular among his Earth conscripts.
"When fleets converge and forces unite, a great battle follows."
...
"Looks like the Mad Titan is making a big move, huh?"
Stepping out of her private quarters, Selene stood before the star map on the bridge. Not far from her stood Master Chief John, likewise facing the projected constellations, appearing deep in thought.
Information brokers across known space, intelligence support from the Kree Empire, open-channel alerts from interstellar vigilantes like the Guardians of the Galaxy...
Everything indicated that the Black Order was preparing a major operation. They had no intention of concealing it. Movements of this scale could never be fully hidden.
John inclined his head toward the Beast Goddess. Then he lightly knocked his fist against the table—a silent command. All eyes turned to him.
"We don't have much time left... I'll get straight to the point."
"Through multi-channel verification, we have confirmed that multiple main fleets of the Black Order have arrived in the Andromeda Galaxy via jump transit. Reinforcements continue to gather."
"Our single 117th Strike Cruiser Fleet is insufficient to confront them alone. According to our alliance with the Kree, I have decided to position the battlefield within a system near the Kree Andromeda front."
"The Nova Empire has responded. They will dispatch a delegation. Once they confirm the location of the Black Order's main force and the Mad Titan Thanos himself, they will initiate retaliatory action."
"The Shi'ar Empire has yet to issue an official statement. However, members of the Shi'ar Imperial Guard will arrive in a private capacity. After verifying certain matters, their military will declare its stance."
"Additionally, Star-Lord Quill of the Guardians of the Galaxy has contacted us voluntarily. They seem to... intend to attempt a decapitation strike against Thanos."
—
—
40 Advanced Chapters Available on Patreon:
Patreon.com/DaoOfHeaven