Ronan's Universal Weapon tore through the air, aimed directly at Gene.
Yet Gene did not dodge.
Instead, his golden short sword shot forward—as swift as a viper striking from its den.
It was aimed at Ronan's throat.
If Ronan refused to pull back his attack, the Sacred Sword of Vishanti would pierce straight through his neck.
The moment stretched into eternity.
Ronan felt the blade's razor-sharp aura pressing against his skin, its presence radiating a terrifying power.
In that instant, he made his decision.
For all his arrogance, Ronan was a seasoned warrior. He had survived countless battles, standing atop the corpses of powerful foes.
And he had no intention of testing this sword's edge with his own flesh.
His instincts kicked in. Before his mind even had time to process the situation, his body moved on its own.
With a swift step, he dodged sideways—just in time to evade the fatal thrust.
But he wasn't retreating.
He twisted his warhammer in midair, shifting his attack trajectory from an upward swing to a sweeping horizontal strike.
Gene had already predicted this.
His neural network had processed 3,652 possible counterattacks before Ronan even made his move.
From those, it had identified the 342 most probable options.
Then—analyzing the smallest shifts in Ronan's muscles—it locked onto the final result.
Ronan's next move was already calculated.
The warhammer whooshed overhead.
At the same time, his short sword lashed out.
A thin, precise slash ran across Ronan's wrist.
The moment the blade broke skin, golden energy poured into Ronan's body.
The divine power of the Vishanti surged through his veins, disrupting his strength.
Ronan gritted his teeth, his muscles stiffening from the invading energy.
His movements slowed.
This was the perfect fusion of precise calculation and mystic instinct.
After leaving Kamar-Taj, Gene had sought out countless martial arts masters.
Their techniques were now his own.
Within Kamar-Taj, aside from the Ancient One, no one could last more than three moves against him in a duel.
Even Ronan was faltering.
The Kree warlord's arrogance faded.
His once-overwhelming attacks became defensive.
His massive warhammer—once a weapon of pure dominance—was now a shield.
Gene's short sword found openings regardless.
From angles Ronan never expected, it struck.
With each exchange, Ronan staggered backward.
The golden blade tore through Ronan's black armor, carving a deep wound across his chest.
His flesh was exposed, riddled with scars from countless battles.
Desperate, he raised his warhammer to guard himself.
A new danger emerged.
The Kree soldiers had arrived.
They had rushed in only to freeze in place.
Their expressions were blank with shock.
For as long as they had served under Ronan, they had never seen him struggle.
Even against powerful enemies, he had always crushed them in mere moments.
They had never even considered that Ronan could be pushed back.
Yet here he was—bleeding, struggling.
And then—he became even more desperate.
"Earth warrior—your strength is undeniable," Ronan growled.
His voice boomed across the battlefield.
"But you underestimate me!"
His body began to change.
His muscles expanded.
His figure grew larger.
Kree blood magic coursed through his veins, enhancing his already monstrous strength.
"NOW—DIE AT MY HANDS!"
His warhammer swung downward.
A strike that transcended time and space itself.
It was already upon Gene.
Gene stood his ground.
This time, he didn't dodge.
The Sacred Sword of Vishanti burned with golden fire.
The battle armor surged to full power.
The mecha frame overheated, generating a monstrous amount of energy.
The very air around the sword ignited, warping space with its sheer heat.
The blade and Universal Weapon collided.
A shockwave tore through the room.
Red-hot energy clashed against Ronan's deep purple aura.
The force was unimaginable.
Even the Kree soldiers felt the power press against their chests, nearly knocking them off their feet.
As if a black hole had swallowed everything.
Two figures remained.
Ronan's expression was frozen in horrified disbelief.
His Universal Weapon —
Cracks ran along its surface, spreading like veins of death.
The Sacred Sword of Vishanti dimmed briefly—
But then—it shone anew.
Gene took one step forward.
Then—three flashes of golden light.
"SHINK! SHINK! SHINK!"
Three slashes—each aimed at Ronan's vitals.
Ronan, blood boiling with rage, let out a feral roar.
With his weapon broken, he lunged forward with his bare hands.
He no longer cared about his wounds.
He no longer feared the pain.
All that mattered was killing Gene.
His fingers dug into Gene's arm, trying to subdue him.
The Sacred Sword of Vishanti pierced Ronan's chest.
Straight through his heart.
Ronan's eyes widened.
He tried to speak—but no words came.
Golden energy surged into his body, like molten steel pouring through his veins.
He felt himself deflating, his energy draining away like air from a punctured balloon.
His once-unbreakable bones cracked.
His mighty organs crumbled.
Even in his final moments, the Accuser of the Kree Empire refused to show weakness.
His cold, ruthless eyes remained fixed on Gene—
With pure, undying hatred.
Access Advance Chapters on my
P@treon: [email protected]/MPHFics