War of X

The green slimy goo seeped out of the broken container and slowly crawled across the floor. Eww. Xavin thought. No way they’re stepping onto that. The flames lifted them up to mid-air, but their Kree comrade stood still on the ground, staring blankly at the paste that used to be the Supreme Intelligence.

“Noh-Varr?” Xavin frowned. “Don’t tell me you froze, because I will tell Dorrek.”

“No,” the Kree Captain shrugged. The goo had reached beneath his feet and ruined his boots. Gross.

“I was just thinking, Captain Glah-Ree has more in common with my dad than your universe’s Supreme Intelligence with mine.”

“If this is the prelude to your talk about your dad who isn’t your dad AGAIN, I will ask Dorrek to pair you up with Kl'rt next time.”

“Unlike Captain Glory, I don’t really hate Kl'rt.”

“You can imagine how much he hates you when he’d rather be paired up with Kl'rt than you.”

“He’s just weirded out because my dad held the same title as him.”

“That’s it. I’m going to find Dorrek and tell him that this is the last time we’re on the same team.”

“Fine. Enough about my dad.” Noh-Varr finally moved his feet towards the door, but the room was covered in goo already. His stride left a long track of green greasy footprints in the hallway. Xavin decided that they preferred to stay in the air than to walk next to Noh-Varr.

“Captain Raz-El, the Supreme Intelligence is dead. Your team can come here and start cleaning now,” said Noh-Varr to his communicator. He walked past dozens of burnt corpses, most of which were Xavin’s work because he was busy hacking into the facility’s security system.

“You know, the Plex Intelligence, our Supreme Intelligence, has pupils,” Noh-Varr continued. “Yours doesn’t.”

“I’m not interested in that!”

“Don’t you think it’d look better if it had pupils?”

“It looks disgusting either way.”

“It doesn’t have to look disgusting. I have a thought.” Noh-Varr changed to his jet boots once they exited the facility. They’ve completed their mission here. Time to reunite with their king.

“What if we use Dorrek’s face instead? He’s the face of the empire anyway, and he looks pretty.”

“He’s going to KILL YOU if you ever say this to his face.”

“Well, what if Kree Imperium will like him better if he looks like a large head floating in a jar?”

“Then it’s good that Kree Imperium doesn’t exist anymore.”

They landed on an open field on which hundreds, if not thousands of dead bodies rested. The blood from the decapitated soldiers had painted the land red. Xavin glanced at Noh-Varr. This is not his home universe, but Hala is his home planet. In private, Xavin told Dorrek that involving the Kree in the Battle of Hala might not be a good idea. After all, the Kree soldiers in the Alliance had more in common with their blue-skinned enemies than their green-skinned comrades. You’re asking them to kill their own kind. How could you be sure that they won’t betray you?

“You didn’t question me when I recruited you to overthrow my grandmother,” said Dorrek at that time.

“I believed in you.”

“Then believe in me again. My grandmother has made many mistakes, but she’s right about one thing. Kree, Skrull, or hybrid, we’re all raised as warriors. The people don’t believe in titles but in power, and the empires stand strongest when we stand together. Once they see where true power lies, they will be loyal to our cause.”

Dorrek was right. Noh-Varr seemed unfazed by the massacre of his kind. They moved past the corpses of the Accuser Corps and found their king standing next to Ronan’s body. A sharp cut at the throat that detached the head from the trunk. Very much Dorrek’s style. The emperor has always preferred clean deaths. You may even call it mercy.

“Was hoping to see you fight,” said Xavin. Ronan was the factual leader and the champion of Kree Imperium. The Accuser did follow the instructions of Supreme Intelligence, but Intelligence could not fight, and thus wasn’t enough of a challenge to Dorrek. Neither was Ronan, as it turned out.

“You two are too slow,” said Dorrek. He frowned as he watched Noh-Varr picked up Ronan’s head. Xavin frowned too.

“You can stick his head onto your sword as decor.”

“No! It’s gross.”

“Isn’t this what you people usually do with trophies?”

“I’m not taking his head as my trophy!” Dorrek gave Noh-Varr a disgusted look. Xavin concurred. “Where did you hear that anyway?” they asked. “Skrulls don’t do that.”

“I don’t mean Skrulls, I mean your universe.”

“We don’t do that,” Xavin repeated. “At least our people don’t.”

“What about the Universal Weapon?” Noh-Varr threw away the head and snatched the hammer from Ronan’s corpse. He handed it to Dorrek, but the king asked him to keep it.

“Thoughts on the Accuser Corps, Dorrek?” asked Xavin.

“We don’t need it,” said the emperor.

“I don’t need this either,” said Noh-Varr. He tried to give it to Xavin, and Xavin said, “Let Raz-El deal with it.”

“It’s going to end up in a warehouse.”

“So? Theemperor says we don’t need it.”

“You can find a user for it yourself, Noh-Varr. Xavin, you’re in charge of scavenging. Contact Kl'rt and Glah-Ree. Make sure we didn’t miss anyone.”

“What about you?”

“I’m heading back to the Throneworld. Noh-Varr, need your ship.”

“Wait, we’re leaving already?” asked Noh-Varr. He gave Xavin a “you okay with this?” look, Xavin ignored him. “No celebration, Dorrek? We just won the Kree-Skrull war.”

“We ended the Kree-Skrull civil war. The rest of the universe will soon learn that we have conquered Hala. They won’t be happy, and they’ll react. We need to be prepared.”

“He’s going to pester you on your trip home if you don’t promise him celebration,” Xavin warned.

“And music,” Noh-Varr added. “We need to hold the best concert in the universe on Hala.”

“You know what we need for the best concert in the universe?” Noh-Varr turned to Xavin. “It has to be a light show!”

“Dorrek, take him and go!” Xavin pleaded to their cousin, but Noh-Varr continued. “We need the Majesdanians, Xav.”

“No! My wife hates you.”

“The Majesdanians are part of the empire now, they must answer to our calls.”

“This is exactly why she hates you!”

“I’m not against music,” the emperor chimed in. “We’ll need to rebuild Hala anyway. The Majesdanians can help. Bring in the Light Brigade and the Sentries. We’ll celebrate once reconstruction is complete.”

“Best concert in the universe coming to Hala next month!” Noh-Varr gave Xavin a wink. Dorrek’s attention turned to Noh-Varr’s approaching ship. The king left his captain and general to argue on the ground, and Xavin said before Noh-Varr flew out of their earshot, “I hate you.”

“Come on, I’ll let Karolina pick the songs!” shouted the Kree Captain.

“We still hate you!”

Max opened his eyes to the sunlight slipping through the curtains. The wind brought in fresh scent of the ocean, and coolness fitting for an early morning. It would be a cliché to say that he was easily awake due to decades of war, not to mention that he found peace decades ago as well. No, it was a dream. He dreamed of what could have been.

She said, there would be an island. The three of us would make it happen. Max now lives on this island with his family. With her, and without him.

“Up early?”

Max’s eyes met with Moira MacTaggert’s when he walked down the stairs. He nodded. They don’t converse much. She’s not Charles, and neither is he.

“The King of Wakanda calls for a meeting today. He wouldn’t say why.”

“When?”

“Two hours from now.”

“I see. I will have S.W.O.R.D. and X-Force prepared.”

After a short wake-up call with Taki and Sage, Max entered the kitchen and made the first meal of the day for his family. They could easily get food from the island, but he enjoyed cooking for his children. Quiet and simple moments like this assured him of his choice more than the annual galas ever could.

“Morning, father.”

In walked Anya. Max smiled at her. Seeing her every day is what granted his mind peace. He doesn’t have a favorite child, but Anya holds a special place in his heart. He’s lost her once, and thanks to the miracle brought by his own children, Wanda and Pietro, she returned to him again.

Anya is also the only one of the four who would help him make breakfast. She cracked the eggs for him, and he whisked the yolks. With magnetism, of course, it’s how he could slice the tomatoes and scramble the eggs at the same time.

“I heard from Aunt Moira that you want a quick breakfast,” said Anya. Max sighed. “Yes, meeting with Wakanda. I can’t skip this one.”

“Oh,” Anya breathed out a giggle. “I hope it’s not about Pietro.”

“T'Challa is more professional than this.”

“Still. Does he not mind that Pietro remains as our ambassador for Atlantis?”

“Would you rather that he becomes our ambassador for Attilan?”

“Maybe he should become the ambassador for Wakanda. To ease T'Challa’s mind.”

“Your brother will only stress him out, you know that well.”

“Then perhaps when Tommy is older, he can be the ambassador for Wakanda instead. I know David couldn’t wait for the exchange program already.”

“Mmm. I will discuss with T'Challa about this.”

Breakfast is ready. Max and Anya brought the plates to the dining room, next to which was a TV broadcasting the news worldwide.

“Stark Industry has officially launched Extremis 3.0 onto the market. The U.S. Science Advisor, Doctor Reed Richards, raised concerns over the security of this update…”

“Wanda! Breakfast!” said Anya to her sister sitting on the couch. Anya is the eldest child, she took up the role of caretaker for her siblings once she returned, even though in practice she’s one year younger than Wanda and Pietro.

When Anya was eight, Max lost her to a fire, and he spent the next ten years burning every human he encountered. He’s told her stories to Wanda and Pietro many, many times, so many that they became determined to save the big sister they’ve never met. When the twins were nine, when he was consumed by rage and didn’t notice how powerful they’d become, they altered reality and traveled back in time to rescue their sister from the raging fire. Anya was confused, so the twins brought her to him, hoping he’d explain, only to find him beating a group of men to death. He was shocked to see her, and she was terrified. The same look Magda gave him when she saw his rampage. Magda left him, and he couldn’t lose Anya again, couldn’t become a monster in his daughter’s eyes. Her return softened him and changed his way, a miracle not even Charles could achieve. Max never regretted the choice. Anya turned out to be human. Had he spent his life antagonizing them, he would have lost her forever.

“Coming!” said Wanda, but her interest in the news did not wane.

“The King of Atlantis has landed on Latveria for his meeting with its monarch, Victor von Doom. Speculations over a potential Wakanda-Atlantis-Latveria alliance has resurfaced…”

“Hey!” Wanda frowned at her twin brother, who just turned off the TV without her approval. “I was watching!”

“He’s jealous,” laughed Lorna, Max’s youngest child who just entered the dining room. Pietro rolled his eyes. “Who’s jealous? It was loud and boring.”

“Then wake your nephews so we can start breakfast,” said Max. Within seconds, an annoyed Pietro returned with a more annoyed Tommy, while Billy shouted from his room, “Ten minutes!”

“So Billy gets ten more minutes while I have to sit here,” Tommy grumbled after Pietro pressed him down on an empty chair.

“You get to chat with your family for ten more minutes,” Wanda smiled. “Isn’t that nice?”

“Mom-”

“Maybe if we invite David over for breakfast, he won’t complain anymore,” Lorna added. Tommy turned to her immediately, “For real?”

“You’re NOT considering kidnapping him right now,” said Anya.

“It’s not kidnapping if he agrees.”

“Dorothy and Christopher Alleyne have told me many times that if their son disappeared right in front of their eyes again, they would move out of Krakoa immediately,” said Max. His warning was met with a series of ambiguous noise from Tommy, until a sleepy Billy finally came downstairs.

“So early,” Billy complained and sat down opposite Tommy.

“Your grandpa and great-aunt Moira have a meeting this morning, so we’re having breakfast a bit earlier than usual,” Anya explained.

“What does that have to do with us?” said Tommy.

“It doesn’t. I want to see my family before I have to meet with leaders of other nations.”

“Umm, okay,” said an unexcited Billy. “Like who, Namor?” added a vengeful Tommy.

“Let’s focus on breakfast for now, shall we?” Anya said and gave Pietro a reassuring smile, but Pietro looked more exasperated. Max found his lips curving as he served himself some scrambled eggs. He meant it. He wants to see his family. This is what he has always wanted.

The world once knew him as Magneto, the mutant terrorist and warlord, but he’s only fighting so that his children won’t have to fight anymore.

He’s only ever wanted a peaceful life for the mutantkind.

With or without Charles.

The cruiser landed onto the sacred soil of Skrullos, a few miles away from the Great Lake of Ny'ni-Ahn. The monastery is a holy realm that must not be disturbed by such crude technologies, or it will anger the Pantheon who reside beneath the waters. Dorrek-Vell exited the vehicle with two of his most trusted followers. Xavin, the cousin who grew up with him, and Kl'rt, the mentor who once trained him.

A king needs no mentor and has no family. Xavin and Kl'rt are his generals. They fought for him in the Skrull civil war, and in return he entrusted them with his armies. Trust does not last forever. R'klll, the late empress, Dorrek’s grandmother, knew it well. She taught him everything, for he was her grandson, but she never trusted him, for he was powerful. The greatest mistake R'klll has ever made? She underestimated him. She used him, planned to kill him once she gained absolute control over the Kree, only for him to slay her first.

The Falls of Ny'ni-Ahn could be seen from afar. It is a splendid sight, a pyramid high as sky, on the top of which flow the first springs, the water that gave life to all children of Sl'gur't. The splashes of waves were endearing sounds to anyone who knows the legends. It calms you, reminding you of your origins and your destiny. We come from the sea, we return to the oceans. With the blessings from the gods, we stand on the land once more.

Behind the falls were the Temple of Tarnala, the sanctum that housed the secret fire. It is a place rich in magic, M'ryn the Magus said Lake Ny'ni-Ahn alone was the source of mystical energy for every sorcerer in the Andromeda Galaxy. Dorrek allowed him to live here, watching every move their enemies made through fire and smokes, and preserving orders within the empire through the water that binds them all. Should any anomalies arise, M'ryn would inform the king, just as he did today.

Mur-G'nn, daughter of the Magus, court magician of the empire, greeted them at the Falls. M'ryn claimed it was a matter of utmost importance, which is why Dorrek brought his generals. Glah-Ree and Noh-Varr did not come, not because Skrullos reject the Kree, but the captains were simply uninterested. Glah-Ree said he could not bear with the way M'ryn talked. Noh-Varr was busy with his concert on Hala. Xavin said this is for the best. “Not that I don’t trust them, Dorrek, but Kl'rt and I know you for your entire life. They don’t know you like we do.”

Is that so? Dorrek smiled. He did not deny, did not concur.

“Majesty,” said Mur-G'nn. Xavin and Noh-Varr were the only ones who called the king by his name. Formality was redundant when he and Xavin were kids. Now that they’re adults, Dorrek did not deem it necessary either. As for Noh-Varr? Once Dorrek learned the stories of Noh-Varr’s home universe, he hasn’t treated this extradimensional Kree warrior seriously.

“General, have you learned the purpose of this meeting?”

“Yes, my liege, but you would want to hear it from my father. Please, he’s waiting for us inside.”

They traversed through the falls, Kl'rt’s force field shielded them from the water. The king took the lead, as usual, and his generals followed closely. “You know I have to travel half a day from Majesdane to here,” Xavin said once Mur-G'nn came to their side. The court wizard replied at a low voice, “I know, but you would want to see this yourself.”

“Emperor. You’re missed,” said M'ryn. The great Magus stood next to a statue of Dorrek Supreme, the king’s previous incarnation. The Knights of the Infinite moved it here once Dorrek assumed the throne. Dorrek thought it was too glamorous, but his people meant well.

“Thank you, but my generals and I are missed by the court too. The Siege of Tryl'sart has just started. I would’ve been coordinating attacks with Raksor and Bel-Dann if I didn’t have to come here.”

“I understand the significance of our battles in Shi'ar space, but rest assured, my king. I have seen the future. Victory is ours to claim.”

“So what is it that you want to discuss with me? You said it’s urgent, that I must come here in person.”

“Yes, sire. You see, there is a prophecy.”

“We already know about this,” Dorrek sighed. M'ryn the Magus is also a prophet. It is his prophecy that made Dorrek the King of Space. If it weren’t for the Magus, Dorrek would have waited for his turn on the throne, but R'klll would not let him live to that day. The Knights of the Infinite might have vowed to serve the empire, but their loyalty lies only with their own kind. The hybrids. On his ninth birthday, the young crown prince learned from the Magus of his grandmother’s devious plans. M'ryn saw the details of R'klll’s schemes, and he saw how they were thwarted. The change of regime was a call of destiny, R'klll never stood a chance. Dorrek was grateful for M'ryn’s help, but a prophecy could only provide so much information. It is worthless to discuss it at great length. History is made on the battlefield, not in a temple with daydreaming.

“You saw me become the future king of space. I thought we’ve all studied your prophecy to the particulars.”

“No, you misunderstood, Majesty. You are the king of space now. I speak of a different prophecy. A new one.”

“What did you see this time?” Dorrek asked, intrigued, but M'ryn looked distressed. The Magus’s daughter seemed disturbed too, he must have shared his visions with her before they arrived. Xavin gave Dorrek a worried look. This can’t be good news.

“Why don’t you just show him, father? The majesty is wise, he will make sense of this.”

“With your permission, my king.” M'ryn bowed to Dorrek. The king nodded. The Magus raised his staff, and the flames behind him rose and consumed the temple. Dorrek knew, it’s the secret fire, made of mystical energy, but never burnt. It melts the statues and pillars, devours the cracks and carvings, only to transform them into something else. Shapeshifting. Soon, the sanctum was reforged, they stood on what appeared to be a wasteland. No, a battleground, on top of which lay millions of corpses. Kree, Skrulls, Shi'ar, and some strange species.

“Behold, my liege. The war that spans all cosmos and eradicates half the universe. This is the war to come, and we are at its finale.”

“This is the day every planet in existence allies under our reign, be it by choice or by force.”

“And…” M'ryn’s eyes fell on a young warrior sitting against a rock. He’s wounded, bleeding, too tired to raise his sword. A far too familiar star sword.

Dorrek walked to the young, broken man. His future self. Who could’ve maimed him like this? He knelt down next to this image of his, a vivid figure from a time yet to come. Strange times, but not distant. He didn’t look much older from now. Yet Dorrek could tell, this was a different man. Still his body, still his soul, but something has changed on the inside.

Not possession or mind control. It would take a force far more unpredictable and unstoppable than that. The king was shocked to see himself incapacitated, but he could deal with defeat. He would become stronger, he could come up with a plan to evade this fate, but he could not understand.

In those eyes, a few years from now, he saw emotions he couldn’t recognize. Regret, exhaustion, pain. Everything, but no will to fight.

You didn’t sit here because you lost. Dorrek thought. If this was indeed his future, then his future self would remember this moment and hear it. You sit here because you gave up.

Why, King of Space, inches away from your dream. All the kingdoms in creation fell beneath your sword. An aspiration not even R'klll would dare to think.

What could erase the fires in your heart?

Dorrek-Vell of the future turned his head. Briefly, his gaze rested on the past, as if he could see the anguish in his younger self. A smile grew on the future’s lips, it was hardly noticeable, faint and gone too soon, but Dorrek of the present caught it. He hadn’t much time to ponder, for he realized that the gaze was not at him, but at another soul behind him.

“Dorrek.”

Said a new voice. The King of Space, present and future, set their eyes on its owner. A boy — a young man near his age. Dark hair, eyes with colors of deep space. Shining stars, as if he alone trapped the universe. Ah. Dorrek-Vell of the present rose to his feet, he stared at this young man of strange species. At long last, he thought. Someone who could challenge him as the King of Space.

“My king, this is…” said M'ryn. The Magus thought he should warn him, spare him the terror of the inevitable end.

“This is the last day of your life.”

Like all architecture on Krakoa, the House of M is a manor supported by delicate and convoluted vines. Max walked down the stairs, the branches paved him a pathway to the roots of the mansion. Leaves concealed the doorway, through which he entered, and reached the basement under the sea. This is Moira’s office, she prefers to work in seclusion. Max used to consider himself isolated, but she scorned. “Talk to me about lonely after you’ve lived ten lives, with no one to share your memories.”

When Krakoa was first built, they sat here, days after days, planning the future for the nation, for the people, for all mutantkind. Sometimes, Anya would come by, she’s a human living with her mutant family. Her voice is important, she reminded Max that mutants must not live in exclusion, that loved ones should not be separated, that despite mutants are called homo superior, no genes could indicate inferiority or superiority. Anya soothed his rage and grounded him. Moira, when they first met, said she was surprised to see a Magneto this weak. She was wrong, it was not weakness. Anya reminded Max of the love he’s lost, and even though Moira never admitted it, he could tell that she changed her too.

Decades since Krakoa was founded, this was a place Max rarely visited. Moira said she could not move on from the past. A life in solitude, away from the peace and dreams, is the only way to keep her mind sharp. To ensure that the tragedies of previous iterations would never occur again. Occasionally, Max would find her here, to discuss the matters he did not wish to share with the council. T'Challa asked to meet with the leaders only, or this would’ve been held at the Grove.

Max sat down on a chair and watched Moira work on her computer. Minutes later, two holograms were projected into the room. T'Challa, of the Intergalactic Empire of Wakanda, and Medusa, of Attilan. Next to the inhuman Queen was her silent husband. Moira moved her chair towards Max, a holographic name card appeared in front of them: Krakoa.

To the outside world, they are the leaders of this mutant nation. Max is the representative of the council, but not its head, even though some loved to call him royalty. Moira is the orchestrator who stood behind the curtains. In name, she’s his advisor. In practice, he followed her every decision. She’s seen the beauty and cruelty of the world, she must be trusted, must know everything, must sit here with him. Even when Charles isn’t around.

Especially when Charles isn’t around.

They’re not partners. They’re substitutes. She’s his Xavier, and he’s hers.

“I thought this was between us and Wakanda,” said Max. His stare fell on Medusa and Black Bolt. The Queen curved her lips. Contempt. They might be allies, at one point even in-laws, but never friends.

“This was between Wakanda and Attilan. We’re the only nations with influence outside Sol, but T'Challa thought we should include you.”

“So that’s why Adam asked me to join this,” said the last participant. Colonel Carol Danvers is the head of Alpha Flight, the U.S. space program. “We’re here to talk about space stuff.”

“I told President Brashear that I wanted you,” said T'Challa. “He’s a busy man, and you have more experience. We could use help from S.W.O.R.D. and Alpha Flight.”

“We aren’t the only nations with space programs,” said Moira. “Why no Russia? Or China?”

“I know all of you personally,” said T'Challa. Max heard that Danvers and the King of Wakanda are friends, but he won’t call himself or Moira the king’s personal friends. Only civil acquaintances, but that should be enough for leaders of two nations.

“What we’re to discuss, it needs to stay confidential between trusted allies,” the King of Wakanda continued. “If I can’t trust you, we can’t work together, and none of us will survive this.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” said Danvers. “Especially when it comes from you.”

“I’m not here to bring you good news,” T'Challa sighed. “Let’s not waste time. How much do you know about Dorrek-Vell?”

Another hologram appeared above the participants. It was a young man — a child, almost, similar age to Thomas and William. His green skin made Max wonder if he was a mutant, but if this Dorrek-Vell were one of them, Max would know. So would Moira. Max glanced at Dr. MacTaggert, she’s frowning, clueless. Whoever this young man is, he was not important to mutant history.

At least, not until this life.

“I’m not here to listen to you mock us, T'Challa,” said Max. Not mutants. Aliens, then. A topic Max was not familiar with. It was by choice, partly. Anything extraterrestrial would remind Max of Charles. That’s why he left the work to Taki, bright youth with curiosity and courage. The future of Krakoa. Max himself is too old to deal with whatever monsters that reside in deep space. Least of all, should he come across some familiar faces.

“It’s not an insult, Magnus,” said Medusa. Max is known as Max Eisenhardt to his family. To the rest of the world, he’s Magneto, and then Magnus of Krakoa. To Charles…he’s Erik, and he has not heard anyone call him that for decades.

“It’s a warning. Dorrek-Vell is the name you should remember, if you ever wish to venture outside Sol,” the Queen of Attilan added.

“Sol is far from the center of the Milky Way, and far from the edge, but that does not mean we’re safe,” said T'Challa. The hologram transformed into a video, some sort of documentary, as T'Challa explained who this mysterious figure was.

“Dorrek-Vell is a Kree/Skrull hybrid, the dominant species of Magellanic and Andromeda Galaxies. If you’re unfamiliar with Kree/Skrull history, they’ve been at war for millions of years, until around twenty years ago.”

“Dorrek-Vell was born to Princess Anelle of the Skrulls, but fathered by Captain Mar-Vell of the Kree. He was considered an illegitimate child and sentenced to death by Dorrek VII, his maternal grandfather and the emperor at that time. Except…Empress R'klll started a revolution in her grandson’s name and killed her husband. The princess died in the process, and the newborn child was named the crown prince. Many Skrulls opposed this decision, they could not accept a hybrid king, so they left with Princess Veranke of the Dard'van sect and resettled on Planet Satriani. R'klll then proposed a ceasefire and even an alliance with the Kree Empire. A fraction of Kree agreed and joined the newly formed Alliance, taking Mar-Vell’s home world Kree-Lar with them. The rest stayed on Hala and was known as the Kree Imperium.”

“Kree Imperium was led by Ronan,” Medusa added. Finally, a name Max recognized. “So this is about your brother-in-law,” he said.

Ronan was Crystal’s husband after she divorced Pietro. Max had never met the man, but Luna, his granddaughter, once drew a picture of Ronan and showed it to him. Ronan appeared to be a strong and enormous man. Pietro said he was unbearable, but then Pietro could hardly bear with anyone.

“He’s dead,” said Medusa. Max could sense vehement hatred in her voice. “Dorrek-Vell killed him.”

“After the two empires broke into three, they’ve been at constant war with one another,” T'Challa continued. “Their strength was not as before, no one was strong enough to conquer the others. Victories and defeats were short-lived. The Galactic Council once believed that this would be the new status quo.”

“Until four years ago. Dorrek-Vell staged a coup and overthrew his grandmother. He was sixteen at that time. Kree soldiers who rejected the Alliance because of the Skrull Empress soon pledged allegiance to the hybrid king. Within six months, Dorrek-Vell killed everyone who stayed loyal to R'klll, and after another year, the Dard'van Skrulls were pruned. The three empires became two.”

“Ronan knew his next target would be the Kree Imperium,” Medusa cut in again. “He sent Crystal and Luna away, but he didn’t tell them why. He didn’t want them to worry, so he told my sister that he doesn’t love her anymore, that she’s a liability. He wanted to protect her.”

“As you know, after Wakanda settled in the Benhazin System, we earned a place on the Galactic Council,” said T'Challa. Three years ago, T'Challa made his sister the regent of Wakanda and left Earth to build an intergalactic empire. The empire expanded rapidly. Over a short span of time, they’ve claimed a star system and become one of the leading empires in the Milky Way. Space exploration was a frequent topic of discussion at the council. Krakoa has mutants, many thought we could do better than Wakanda. Max himself was not fond of space, so he left the Spring and Summer seats to it.

“Dorrek-Vell’s empire refused to join the Galactic Council, but the Kree Imperium was a member. They were in fact the first to trade with Wakanda, because they wanted Vibranium to defend their homeland,” T'Challa paused. He turned to Medusa, whose silence signaled him to go on.

“A month ago, we received a distress call from Hala. When our ships reached the Pama System, we were immediately cornered by Dorrek-Vell’s fleet.”

The hologram showed thousands, if not millions of warships. Ships of all shapes and sizes, surrounding the few dozens of vehicles from Wakanda. Max heard a quiet gasp from Danvers. She should be alarmed, this Kree/Skrull Alliance held military power far beyond the U.S.A., and every nation in Sol combined.

“Vessels of Wakanda!” said a strange voice in T'Challa’s holographic recording. “This is the territory of the Kree/Skrull Empire! Transit is prohibited unless with approval from Emperor Dorrek-Vell! Leave this space at once or we will fire! Repeat: Leave at once or we will fire!”

“You left?” said Danvers. T'Challa nodded. “I won’t let my people die for nothing.”

“We reported this to the Galactic Council. Xander sent the Nova Corps to learn what happened. They brought back Ronan’s head and whatever remains of the Supreme Intelligence.”

“Tens of millions were killed,” said Medusa. She’s in pain. Black Bolt reached for her hand to support her. “Only those who vowed to serve Dorrek-Vell were spared.”

“Dorrek-Vell’s armies aren’t his most powerful weapons. He has three task forces that answer directly to him and him only.” T'Challa’s holograms changed as he introduced each unit. “The Super Skrulls, led by Dorrek-Vell’s cousin, Xavin, and the champion of the old Skrull Empire, Kl'rt. The Marvel Corps, led by Captain Marvel, Noh-Varr, and Captain Glory, Glah-Ree. The Knights of the Infinite, led by the court wizards, M'ryn and his daughter Mur-G'nn.”

“Each one of them could destroy a fleet on their own. As for Dorrek-Vell himself, they said he had never been defeated. If he wished, he could kill an entire planet.”

“How exactly will he do that?” asked Max. Medusa gave him a wry smile. “The Kree have Nega Bombs. They’re made of anti-matter. Planet-scale nuclear weapons. The Skrulls have the Pyre. It’s a sun detonator. But Dorrek-Vell…he has a sword. He’s never used it that way, but there were rumors that his sword could shatter the core of a star. Absorb its energy. Strip it of its life force. Force it into oblivion, where nothing could ever exist.”

The room fell into grave silence. Whether Medusa’s words were true or not, Dorrek-Vell and his empire were not an enemy any of them could handle. Max could tell that Moira was in distress. She gave her everything so that the mutantkind would still have a future. It must not be taken away this easily.

“Dorrek-Vell didn’t kill your men, or the Nova Corps,” said Max. Ironic. He’s the one trying to stay hopeful now. Perhaps a peaceful life did make him soft. Or perhaps he’s played the role of Charles for too long. “Why do you assume that he will be your enemy?”

“After everything we’ve told you, you still question?” said Medusa. Her tone has turned from disillusioned to furious again. “Dorrek-Vell is a mad tyrant! Anyone who follows him will live, and anyone who doesn’t will be slain on site. I thought you built your own nation because you’re sick of kneeling before others.”

“King T'Challa, you said this happened a month ago,” said Moira before Max could answer. “Why are you only telling us now?”

“There was another incident two days ago,” T'Challa sighed. “I should not show you this, but…this is taken in our throne room.”

Another recording started. “A delegation from the Kree/Skrull Alliance visited Planet Bast. They asked to see me and gave a reason I could not dismiss.”

“King T'Challa,” said a green-skinned man. T'Challa introduced him as Ambassador Kreddick. “My emperor sends his regards. We’ve also brought you gifts. Our soldiers found them when we reclaimed Hala. It seems that you had a few sleeper agents living among the rebels.”

“You have sleeper agents in Kree Imperium?” Max raised his eyebrow. He should expect this from T'Challa, the King of Wakanda is a distrustful man.

“I have sleeper agents everywhere.”

“Everywhere? Krakoa too?”

“Magnus, please focus. This isn’t about you or me, but collective fate of Sol.”

“My emperor did not kill them, he thought you’d like your people back.” Kreddick’s entourage brought two cuffed Wakandans forward. “The Majesty has no interest in starting war with Wakanda. For now.” The face of the ambassador became twisted with his smile. “If you wish to visit, you’re welcome. If you want to do business, we may consider. But be warned, your Highness. If you interfere with our affairs again, or if we find any Wakandan spy on our land, then there will be war. And trust me, King T'Challa of the Milky Way. You won’t survive.”

The ambassador’s distorted face disappeared, and was replaced by a smiling Namor.

“What?” Colonel Danvers was startled. Judging by the expression on T'Challa’s face, he did not expect this either.

“I was wondering what my husband is doing not answering my calls. Turns out he’s consorting with you,” said the King of Atlantis.

Well, this should be fun. Max thought. He noticed T'Challa’s annoyed look, and the aversion written all over the inhuman royal couple’s face.

Three years ago, the King of Wakanda married the King of Atlantis a few weeks before he left Earth. The rest of the world believed that the alliance between Wakanda and Atlantis, through this marriage, was to protect Wakanda in its king’s absence. Shuri was still young, many held reservations towards her reign. A change of regime entails instability, and a strong ally could stop potential enemies from seizing this opportunity to attack. What complicates the matter is that Namor, at a younger age, dated Pietro. It was brief, long before Pietro married Crystal, though speedsters might perceive time in a different way.

“How did you get in here?” said T'Challa. The King of Wakanda had never sounded more impatient.

“Your sister complained to me yesterday that you ignored her calls. Who should I complain to that you’ve been ignoring my calls for over a month?” said Namor. His attention turned to Medusa and Black Bolt. “Marriage counseling?”

“Shuri will never betray me. How did you get in here, Namor?” T'Challa used the “don’t make me repeat this for the third time” tone. Max doubted it’d work on Namor. He did wonder if the King of Wakanda ever regretted his choice.

“Doom has his ways,” said Victor von Doom, yet another trespasser. This time Max rolled his eyes too. He heard a chuckle from Colonel Danvers, “Did I walk into some family gathering?”

She’s not wrong, even though Max did not like to admit it. Doom was once Wanda’s fiancé. Max was never fond of Doom or Namor, but he wanted to give his children freedom to choose whoever they want and date whoever they love. Be it mutants, humans, or assholes. He comforted Lorna when Alex left her at the altar, and listened to her when she told him that Bobby might be gay. He tried not to comment when Pietro was going out with Namor, and asked no question when the Prince of Atlantis was suddenly out of the picture. He gave blessings on Pietro and Crystal’s wedding, and only lamented over seeing Luna less when they divorced. He didn’t say anything when Wanda accepted Doom’s proposal, and supported her when she told him she regretted it. He kept silent when Wanda started dating Simon Williams, and reassured her when she found out she’s pregnant but didn’t want to be with him anymore. Max told Wanda that everyone in the family would raise her kids together, if she wished to keep them. She said yes, and they did. Thomas and William grew up to be excellent young men, especially Thomas. Tommy is dating David Alleyne, a brilliant boy with bright future ahead. It was the first and only time his family chose a partner Max wholeheartedly approved of. He could only hope that when Billy falls in love in the future, he’d be more like his twin brother and less like his Mom or Uncle or Aunt.

“So it’s true? Latveria is allying with Atlantis now?” said Danvers. T'Challa shook his head.

“It’s the only way to see my husband. I’m heartbroken, T'Challa, that you’d rather share intel with these land-dwellers than your own husband!” said Namor. Max gave T'Challa a sympathetic look. Sometimes you just have to regret every decision you’ve ever made in your life.

“This is a waste of time,” said Medusa. Her words appeared to have enraged Doom further.

“Yes, a waste of time, because you fools dare to keep secrets from Doom!” The ruler of Latveria glared at everyone present. Max is considering if he should just leave the meeting. Apparently, so is T'Challa.

“We’ll find another time.” The King of Wakanda had made his mind and exited the room. Colonel Danvers was next. “I’ll have a lot to discuss with Adam and Monica. See you guys around.”

Just before Max turned off the holographic feed, he heard Medusa speaking again. “Magnus, wait! We have matters to discuss with you. Meet you at Attilan. Bring a prophet you trust and your grandson William.”

Medusa and Black Bolt left right after she delivered her message. Max had no interest in staring at the face of a displeased Namor, so once again, he reached for the exit, only for Doom to call him too.

“Magnus, you’d be a halfwit to rely on them. If Dorrek-Vell is as powerful as they claimed, you’ll need Doom’s help.”

So they not only hijacked the feed but also listened in. Max smiled, his hand rested on the control panel and prepared to press.

“I think not,” he said, and left Doom to vent his frustration to Namor in the lonely meeting room.

“I’ll get William. You’ll find the prophet?” Max turned to Moira. She sighed but nodded. “The prophet, yes. They would so love to see me.”