If a creature consumed all biomass on a planet with gravity similar to Earth's, and this creature lacked a conventional metabolic system—meaning all that biomass became part of its own body—how massive would that creature be? This was the question the archmage had pondered endlessly. Given that the Hive had devoured every animal and plant on this planet (some perishing from ecological collapse), to the point that the biosphere crumbled and the climate spiraled into chaos, the number of nanoscopic parasites it propagated must be staggering—enough for their sheer mass to influence the very course of sandstorms.
Solomon understood that if his artificial humanoid task forces encountered such a creature alone, there would be only one outcome: death. No other possibility existed. The powered armor's air filters would be clogged by the endless tide of nano-parasites, and its servos and microchips would short-circuit as the parasites burrowed inside. It was precisely by exploiting their minuscule size that the Hive had triumphed over the alien technology of this planet, consuming every sentient being. Solomon didn't believe the Immortal City's tech would be an exception. Even Wakanda's vibranium-based technology could be compromised by parasites that infiltrated through any gap.
He didn't understand why the Kree had abandoned such a terrifying bioweapon—maybe the cultivation costs were too high, maybe there was political infighting, or maybe it was just bureaucratic madness. Regardless, the Kree had left this mess behind—on Earth—and left it to Solomon to clean up. Fortunately, the situation wasn't hopeless. Because Hive parasites were incredibly small, a strong breath could disperse a non-dense swarm. And more importantly—fire could destroy the parasites, which were, after all, organic matter.
To save the artificial beings he had created, Solomon needed to draw the Hive's attention.
They should not die here. That creature's opponent was him.
He raised his black longsword, its crossguard gleaming gold.
At first, the blade crackled with arcs of electricity, crackling and spitting crimson sparks. Even though everyone wore helmets as instructed, the stench of scorched protein lingered in the air—Hive scouts, tiny parasites, were dying in droves. Solomon chanted a short incantation, and a burst of fire erupted from the blade. His eyes blazed with golden light, and the golden eagle wings on his pauldrons spread like living appendages. Together with the five flame cyclones that still surged toward the horizon, they proclaimed the beginning of war.
Whatever this planet was once called, its eternal night had ended. Fire replaced the absent sun, lighting half the horizon—and illuminating the black sandstorm rolling toward them from the distance.
His voice, carried by arcane transmission, echoed in the minds of all sentient beings.
At the same time, the heavy weapons squad activated their plasma cannons. The coils hummed as they charged, ready to ignite and compress atmospheric gases. The assault squad powered up chainswords and power blades, braced to destroy any hostile entity that came near.
"Today, you die here, you disgusting tentacled savage!"
"I heard that!" Simmons shouted, waving a white embroidered scarf as she looked back at Will. "I recognize that voice!"
"Stop! Stop!" Will gasped, sprinting forward.
"I'm sure they're here for us!" she said excitedly, pointing ahead. "Coulson must have sent our friends to help. We're going back to Earth! You probably don't believe in magic, but it's real! I think we'll go through an Einstein-Rosen bridge to get home!" Simmons slowed her pace, letting Will catch up. When she saw his expression, she frowned in confusion. "What is it?"
"The sandstorm! Look!" Will grabbed Simmons and pointed toward the horizon, shouting, "It's coming! The sandstorm means it's coming! It smelled the blood—we need to hide, Simmons!"
Jemma Simmons followed his gaze. She took off her sand goggles and squinted hard.
The planet's natural light was dim, but it was quickly overwhelmed by a new brightness. She could finally see—on the horizon, faint orange-red flashes flickered like distant thunder behind thick clouds. Another flash followed. The bursts came faster, brighter, louder. Orange-red light gathered, blazing like a newborn sun, piercing the horizon. It was as if a giant flaming hand had reached up and torn away the sky's long-standing shroud.
A gust of hot wind rolled toward her, carrying sand and ash.
It was the first time Jemma Simmons had clearly seen this planet's cloud layer and starry sky. Like tumors clinging to the dying world, the thick storm clouds parted just enough to let ionized radiation from space streak across the atmosphere in brilliant blue-green auroras. The border between the sunlike flames and the auroras was not distinct—they melded together, casting blue and orange into the dark indigo sky like boiling paint.
"Holy hell, what is that? Whatever it is—we need to hide!" Will panted, repeating himself. His pale face, bleached by lack of sunlight, and pupils adapted to dimness, couldn't quite adjust to the brilliance blooming in the distance.
"I don't know who your friend is," he added, "but it looks like he and that thing have some unfinished business. Either way, this is not something we should be part of. We need to hide, wait it out. OK?" He tried not to upset Simmons, who clearly didn't want to believe what she was seeing. "Like I said, the creature really exists. That's not so shocking, right? I mean, we were transported here by a rock!"
"I see them," Simmons whispered. "They're coming."
The sandstorm surged again, enveloping the command squad.
Catherine fired a round, shattering a parasite-formed tentacle that lashed out from the black storm. She spun around and swung her sword, its searing blade cleaving through another dripping, fleshy limb that had reached for the communications officer. The heavy weapons squad followed up, obliterating incoming parasites with plasma guns and flamethrowers. Solomon created a hemispherical transparent force-field wall to filter out the minute parasites and force Hive to take on larger, physical forms—only then could the Sisterhood's weapons be effective.
These parasitic limbs barely pierced the invisible barrier before being met with a vicious counterattack. But such losses meant little to a creature that had devoured every living thing on an entire planet. This sandstorm was a swirling fusion of grit and parasites. Beyond the force-field, the air was thick with squirming horrors.
Catherine watched as Solomon stepped deeper into the pitch-black storm.
He commanded the five firestorms to converge on the command squad's location, cleansing the air near the force-field wall. Then, with his flaming sword in hand, he walked straight into the storm. He had sensed the presence of the Hive's core consciousness at its heart. Perhaps out of curiosity, the Hive had parted the sandstorm for him, revealing a shadowy black figure standing at its center. It was inviting Solomon inward. It wanted to communicate.
To the Hive, Solomon appeared to be an Inhuman. And it had a grand plan it was eager to propose.
It wanted to convince the archmage.
(End of Chapter)
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