The sight of cats, winged horses, phoenixes, and a bunch of bear cubs playing together was undeniably adorable, but such comments shouldn't be coming from the mouth of the monarch of the Eternal City. At least that's what Stephanie believed. Even though Solomon hadn't yet donned the crown, she didn't want to hear about how the bear cubs sharpened their claws on trees or how Pegasus and the phoenix competed in flight. She thought Solomon should best exhibit the authority of a dictator. Even Gideon Malick agreed—joking with subordinates or telling stories was ill-suited to the identity of a feudal monarch and ruthless ruler.
"If he won't fight for HYDRA or the Malick family's interests, then at least make sure he isn't controlled by any interest group." That's what Gideon Malick told his daughter. Even though the blood of his bodyguards hadn't yet dried, Gideon Malick still sat in his study imparting wisdom to her. "I tried to persuade him to accept, but he refused. That proves he's not someone we can control. He's a monarch, not a greedy politician or businessman. A monarch cannot be manipulated. So you must follow his every step, make his interests align with the Malick family's, and eliminate any force that might try to influence him. My daughter, you must make us one with him."
Stephanie remembered her father's teachings well, and in retrospect, he had shown remarkable foresight. The Malick family's influence had indeed grown significantly, to the point that they could now manipulate congressional investigations into HYDRA to suppress disobedient factions. Stephanie wanted Solomon to maintain his feudal monarch persona; getting too close would only erode people's fear of him and destabilize the Malick family's position at his side.
Solomon's overwhelming strength made the mission feel like a post-dinner stroll. Stephanie even had the chance to personally kill a few Skrull sentries. Still, this wasn't a time for leisure—topics fit for a warm afternoon bathed in golden sunlight and breezy riverside winds simply didn't belong in an environment filled with gunpowder, excrement, blood, wailing, and the stench of scorched flesh. Any ordinary person seeing her now would feel chills all over. She wanted to hire a professional to clean her black bear-fur cloak; the beautiful garment now looked absolutely terrible.
"Sorry, I didn't know you wanted to hear that."
Even the blood-soaked surroundings couldn't mask the friendliness and gentleness Solomon displayed.
"No, it's just… a little out of place," Stephanie replied, frowning. Though the Skrull blood had been vaporized by electric currents running through her claw-blades, the acrid stench still seemed to linger. Honestly, she was starting to hate killing. Not because she had suddenly changed her attitude toward aliens or wanted to appear benevolent, but because she didn't want to do it herself anymore. Her father was always preaching the importance of strength, but killing personally was tiring and disgusting—no matter how advanced her powered armor or sealed helmet were.
The stench of death, regardless of the species, was never pleasant. If someone else could do it for her, all the better. She truly detested the way enemies died in their own filth, even if it was inevitable. So far, everything she'd learned was more than enough for self-defense, and she didn't think anyone could hurt her while she was with Solomon. Even Solomon hadn't realized he could make others feel so safe, and as he scanned Stephanie's surface emotions, he was a little surprised by it.
Since the day he finalized his plan and broke from the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D., his actions had been no different from those of a comic book supervillain—only he didn't deliver idiotic villain speeches or go easy on enemies for monthly sales. He didn't have underlings who could be persuaded by so-called superheroes. Even someone like Natasha Romanoff had to continue working for him despite knowing she was being used, even proactively feeding him intel. Moreover, he had leveraged his relationship with the Ancient One to contact a former Kamar-Taj sorcerer hiding in Eastern Europe—one of the few defectors who hadn't been killed—and was planning to recruit that Romani sorcerer to work for him.
After this cleansing operation was complete, he would visit Eastern Europe personally to meet the defector the Ancient One had chosen not to eliminate. He was confident in his ability to persuade the sorcerer, as their ideals were almost identical—only Solomon looked further ahead and thought more deeply. To be blunt, Solomon was smarter and more stable, less swayed by emotional factors. If the next Sorcerer Supreme hadn't already been chosen, he would have wanted that person to take over the title.
"In my view, killing a few Skrulls is as simple as eating dessert," Solomon said. The Skrulls he and Stephanie had eliminated were recon troops integrated into the Eternal City's surveillance network. His arrival had been like a dinosaur crashing through the underbrush, effortlessly shattering the delicate balance between squirrels fighting over acorns in the branches.
"I'm tired."
Although she had been hit a few times by the Skrulls' Gauss weapons, the protective enchantments placed on her had burst into dazzling blue and orange sparks when struck, and the electromagnetic shield on her back had always managed to block high-speed projectiles at just the right moment. Thanks to all the layers of protection, not even the paint on her powered armor had been scratched. Dangerless killing didn't trigger any adrenaline rush, and the grim thrill was beginning to fade. By the end, Stephanie didn't even feel like lifting a hand.
"Then let's rest for a bit. Tita sent a message. The Sisterhood has completed their mission—they've destroyed the radar station, hangars, and runways, effectively delaying U.S. air support within a thousand kilometers. All we need to do now is wait for the transport ships to enter the atmosphere. The assault transports will engage any American aircraft that try to approach." Solomon shrugged and looked up, as if he could see fighter jets roaring across the sky.
Stephanie retracted her claws. "Aren't you worried about the Skrulls inside the Eternal City?"
"Why should I be? I always win. Always." Solomon walked ahead, unfazed by the putrid stench of Skrull blood soaking into the mulch beneath his boots. He didn't care what kind of filth clung to his elegant high boots. When he said this, he didn't even display the kind of overwhelming confidence that might affect others—it was as casual as drinking a glass of water, not the brutal cleansing and counterintelligence operation he was actually conducting.
"Our mission is complete, Stephanie. We can sit on that cliff over there and watch the entire battle. It'll be quite a show."
As the transport ship's ablative armor roared and burned against the friction of reentry, like a massive meteor descending from the heavens, Solomon pulled out his hip flask and clinked it against the hydration port on Stephanie's powered armor, prompting her to roll her eyes at the sorcerer. Yet he kept smiling.
"I've always liked the roar of these war machines. As long as humanity stops pointing guns at its own kind—killing each other for the wealth of politicians and businessmen—it fills me with confidence about humanity's future."
The battle had begun. Solomon awaited victory.
______
(≧◡≦) ♡ Support me and read 20 chapters ahead – patreon.com/Mutter
For every 50 Power Stones, one extra chapter will be released on Saturday.