Marvel: What If Thanos Adopted A Saiyan?
Chapter 167 - 168: The Outer God

Chapter 167: Chapter 168: The Outer God

"P-Prince Lothar... Are you sure it’s okay for us to just walk out like this?"

Centauri Galaxy, Black Quadrant.

The Other’s heart pounded with anxiety as he followed Lothar into the base. His face was twisted in unease.

What they were doing now was nothing short of defying Thanos’ direct orders.

In the entire Black Quadrant—no, across the whole Centauri Galaxy—Thanos was the ultimate authority. His word was absolute.

Anyone who openly defied him, like they were doing now, would, without exception, be reduced to ashes... or, more likely, a side dish for the Mad Titan’s grim table.

No one escaped that fate.

That’s why The Other was in a state of panic.

Lothar might be Thanos’ adopted son, if caught, maybe he’d just get thrown into solitary again.

But The Other? He was an outsider, entirely expendable. Thanos wouldn’t even blink slicing him in two.

There were always more Others.

"What’s the problem?"

"If you’re scared, you can always crawl back to Chitauri Prime," Lothar said coldly.

The Other fell silent, trailing obediently behind the still-grounded Lothar as they sneaked into the base’s primary databank.

We’ve arrived.

At the door, Lothar scanned the area. No one in sight.

He placed his hand on the panel, fingerprint scan complete, and slipped inside.

If his memory served him correctly, the core technology for constructing warships in the Black Quadrant should be stored right here in Databank One.

"Woz."

"Yes, Prince Lothar. Woz is initiating the link with the databank now." The artificial intelligence began downloading the targeted files.

"Lothar? What are you doing here?"

Lothar’s pupils shrank sharply. He looked toward the voice, and froze.

One of Thanos’ infamous Black Order generals... Proxima Midnight.

"Shouldn’t I be asking you that? What are you doing here?" Lothar narrowed his eyes, his voice composed, no panic, no hesitation. He went on the offensive.

To his recollection, Proxima had already been assigned away from the Black Quadrant.

"Lord Thanos is off on campaign," she said with a smirk. "I’m holding the line until he returns. Got a problem with that?"

She studied the boy’s impassive face, lips curving into amusement.

"But you," she added with a glint in her eye, "if I remember correctly... shouldn’t you be rotting in Dark Nebula Penitentiary Q-91 right about now?"

"Why are you here?"

She cast a sideways glance at the one trying to disappear into the corner—the cowering, circle-drawing The Other.

Her smile widened in playful malice.

A second later—CRASH!

Her body slammed into the icy wall.

"Since Father isn’t around... you should know which words are best left unspoken."

Lothar’s black hair rippled with latent force as he pressed his palm firmly against Proxima Midnight’s throat.

"Are you insane?!"

The sudden assault and Lothar’s haughty tone ignited a flash of fury in the warrior who’d initially just been toying with him.

"Answer me," Lothar said flatly, tightening his grip.

Their eyes locked, intensity crackled between them.

Feeling her breath start to fail, Proxima gritted her teeth and gave a slight nod.

"Haa..."

Released from his iron hold, Proxima Midnight staggered back, bracing against the wall, gasping for breath.

"Prince Lothar, the download is complete."

Woz’s voice sliced through the tension. Lothar flexed his fingers, then turned, motioning for The Other to follow.

"Lothar! What the hell are you planning?!"

"Exactly what I want to."

Without turning back, Lothar gave his reply, low and final.

"To retrieve the Reality Stone... for my father."

The Reality Stone?

Proxima frowned, rubbing her bruised throat. She considered informing Thanos, who had already left the quadrant.

But in the end, she held her tongue.

That cold, unwavering look in Lothar’s eyes... it lingered in her mind.

He’s nothing like the boy I remember.

Lothar... you’ve changed.

She quietly retracted her previous evaluation of him from thirty days ago.

...

Midgard, Realm C53, per Ebony Maw’s charts.

From above, the radiant hues of the Bifrost tore through the snow-laden skies, delivering three figures into the freezing wasteland below.

"Ssst..."

The instant her boots touched the frost, steam rose from Hela’s enchanted bodysuit, its intricate arcane patterns self-regulating her temperature.

Droplets formed on her cheeks as the warmth met the bitter cold.

"The Flerken appeared here?" Lothar frowned.

Clad in his trademark loose black battlesuit, he gazed into the endless white. Not even a whisker of a Flerken in sight.

Not a trace. No footprints. No fur.

"That’s what Heimdall reported. Said he saw it here on Midgard," Hela replied.

"To be precise, it had been here."

Lothar remained skeptical. He felt like he was being played.

"Heimdall sees across all Nine Realms. You doubt him?" Hela scoffed, sensing his disdain. She spoke with a certain pride, eager to educate him on Asgard’s all-seeing sentinel.

Lothar wasn’t buying it.

He’d met Heimdall. The guy wasn’t all Hela made him out to be.

What did she take him for, a three-year-old?

"You—" Hela fumed, but just as she was about to retort, an earsplitting, chaotic melody crashed through the snowfield.

The music was rhythmic, almost ritualistic, punctuated by voices chanting in a garbled, otherworldly tongue that even Lothar couldn’t decipher.

"What is this...?"

Woz stepped forward, flipping through the digital pages of his data matrix. "It appears to be... a summoning ritual from an alternate dimension."

"A summoning chant from the outer realms?" Hela’s sharp senses were nearly overwhelmed. Her soul almost got dragged in.

"An Outer God, Prince Lothar."

Now transformed into a robotic feline form, Woz sat at Lothar’s feet. In his metal paws was a sleek, page-less codex, its glowing text displayed in mid-air.

"Beyond the Nine Realms lie countless dimensional planes..."

"Within those planes dwell eldritch gods of varying power—watching, waiting for the right moment to descend upon our universe."

"Midgard... is one such focal point."

"And those who arrive through forbidden rites, beings from those nameless spaces—"

"They are known... as Outer Gods."

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