The atmosphere grew tense.
Throughout his life, Lothar had encountered his fair share of counterfeits and fakes. But impostors so convincing that even Woz couldn't tell the difference—like the two standing before him—were a first.
As bio-mechanical beings, the physical traits of the Chitauri were notoriously difficult to replicate. But, as it turned out, that rule didn't apply to the Skrulls.
Still—
"Bring Astra down here."
Lothar's gaze swept past the two bickering figures before turning to The Other at his side. His voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable command.
He didn't care which of the two was real or fake. But Astra was a different matter entirely.
Thanos had personally ordered him to retrieve Astra—alive.
"Lothar, Your Highness, you have to believe me! They're really Skrulls! If we bring him down now—"
"I said, bring Astra down."
Lothar cut off The Other's rambling without a hint of patience. His icy gaze made the subordinate freeze in place.
"…Fine. Though, truth be told, I was under the impression that your men should already be dead by now."
The Other—who had been standing beside Lothar moments ago—gripped his azure scepter and let out a sigh of disappointment. Then, his form began to shift.
Green skin. A grotesque, contorted face. The unmistakable features of a Skrull warrior.
"So, your name is Lothar, huh? Mine is Magar, of the Skrull Empire's Third Legion."
Magar's slitted eyes locked onto Lothar, studying his expression, hoping to find anger, grief, or even a flicker of fear. But Lothar only met his gaze with chilling indifference.
His face remained impassive, his cold stare carrying the weight of a silent executioner.
It irritated Magar.
No one liked being looked at as if they were already a corpse.
"First of all, I appreciate you delivering Astra to me."
Magar's tone remained measured—perhaps out of consideration for the fact that Lothar was backed by Thanos himself. At the very least, he wasn't rushing to kill anyone just yet.
"And second… goodbye."
With the Casket of Ancient Winters in one hand and the scepter in the other, Magar turned and strode toward the entrance of his warship, flanked by Skrull soldiers who had now also reverted to their true forms.
Not only had he successfully captured Astra, but he'd also obtained two invaluable artifacts. Magar was feeling quite satisfied.
But just as he set foot on the warship's ramp—
A sharp, piercing pain exploded in his mind.
"Arghhh!"
A howl of agony burst from Magar's throat as he clutched his head.
"Wh-what's happening?!"
"Who?! Who is doing this?!"
It felt as if a thousand needles were being driven into his skull at once. His breathing hitched, and for a brief moment, his body refused to respond.
If even Magar—an experienced commander—was suffering this much, his soldiers were faring far worse.
One by one, they collapsed to their knees, clutching their heads in unbearable pain. Veins bulged grotesquely across their foreheads and hands, and their howls of agony filled the air.
"You think you can just walk away?"
A voice as frigid as death itself reached Magar's ears. With great effort, he lifted his gaze—only to see Lothar standing above him, staring down with the cold detachment of an executioner.
"Impossible… What did you do?!"
The scepter and the Casket of Ancient Winters slipped from Magar's trembling hands as he let out a hoarse, disbelieving roar.
Astra, having emerged from the warship with a firearm in hand, looked at the groaning Skrull warriors writhing in pain. He turned his gaze toward Lothar, a glint of intrigue in his eyes.
"How the hell did you do this?" Astra muttered, raising an eyebrow.
If he had to choose between being in Skrull hands or Lothar's, the choice was clear.
"For me, nothing is impossible."
Lothar pressed his index finger against Magar's forehead.
A silvery-white energy coalesced at his fingertip, forming a concentrated beam—
—and in the next instant, it pierced straight through Magar's skull.
The remaining Skrull warriors barely had time to react before Astra methodically gunned them down, one after another.
Green blood pooled and trickled across the frozen battlefield.
"Rejoice! Behold the glory of Lothar, mighty son of Titan! With his keen and unwavering gaze, he has purged the treacherous Skrulls!"
A voice rang out, startling Astra. He turned toward the source—
The Other stood there, clad in tattered armor, missing an eye, his body a wreck of injuries. Yet, he ignored his own condition, his voice reverent as he sang Lothar's praises.
"Your subordinates… Are they always like this?" Astra asked, tossing his weapon aside in amusement.
"Woz. Disengage the electromagnetic field."
"As you command, Prince Lothar."
Lothar ignored Astra completely.
From inside the small warship, Woz's voice sounded, and Astra's helmet emitted a faint clicking noise—then silence.
Lothar glanced at Astra and, without a word, yanked him into the ship.
With that, the group returned to the small warship.
That helmet… was the contingency Lothar had Woz prepare earlier.
Astra's earlier words about the Skrulls had sparked an idea in Lothar's mind. Just in case something unexpected happened, he'd instructed Woz to embed a failsafe within the electromagnetic field.
"Lothar, Your Highness, I've detected thirty interstellar missiles inbound toward us."
Before he could even sit down, Woz's warning echoed in Lothar's ears.
On the holographic screen before him, a Kree fleet was closing in fast on Planet Torfa.
With Woz's interference lifted, the Kree had locked onto their location—and this missile barrage was their 'greeting.'
"Seems like your people don't care whether you live or die," Lothar remarked, glancing at the still-bound Astra.
Astra merely shrugged, his rugged face—scarred and framed by an unkempt beard—showing no concern.
"I was never on good terms with the Accuser Corps. If anything, this is exactly the kind of move I'd expect from them."
The Accusers were warmongers—more fanatical than Astra himself.
While Astra developed weapons to one day annihilate the Skrull Empire and avenge his family, the Accusers sought conquest for conquest's sake.
If the choice was between letting Astra's knowledge fall into enemy hands or obliterating him, the Accusers would choose the latter without hesitation.
He never doubted their resolve.
"Lothar, Your Highness, I'm unable to override Torfa's planetary defense system. The Kree have changed the internal encryption keys."
"Woz is attempting to decrypt…"
As the massive Kree fleet loomed ever closer, the first wave of interstellar missiles came screaming down from the heavens.
"Signal our fleet. Disengage stealth mode and prepare for retrieval."
Lothar issued the command calmly—before stepping out of the warship.
The silver armor adorning his body gleamed under the sunlight.
A surge of immense energy erupted from within him, an invisible force rippling through the air, howling and roaring like an unchained beast.
Standing tall upon the battlefield, his tail swayed behind him as he raised his right hand toward the sky.
A blinding energy beam coalesced in his palm—
—and in the blink of an eye, it lanced upward, piercing the skies.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Explosions rocked the sky, shaking the very fabric of reality.
The real battle had only just begun.
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