In a Gladiator Championship shrouded in corruption and manipulation, the preordained champion, Lothar, swept through all contenders with overwhelming, unmatched might.
And he did it one against thirteen.
Hovering in mid-air with arms crossed over his chest, the golden-haired figure gazed coldly at the ruined arena beneath him. A defiant, scornful smirk curled at the corner of his lips; so provocative that the audience, who should have fallen into stunned silence, instead erupted in thunderous screams.
"Rejoice!"
"The birth of a king!"
"All hail His Highness Lothar, mighty Titan's son and sovereign of the revered Chitauri Star!"
"In this very moment, he has conquered the wild world of Sakaar!"
"No trickery, no subterfuge can stand before the absolute strength of Prince Lothar!"
"Now, let us roar for the King of the Sakaaran Arena!!!"
At the commentator's booth, the official referee was unceremoniously knocked unconscious by The Other, who wielded a staff and then booted the referee off the platform.
His voice, far more impassioned than any announcer's, roused every spectator out of their initial shock. Standing in the air, Lothar opened his arms to accept the deafening ovation; his smile smug, as if all of this were his birthright.
"This guy… never misses a chance to soak up praise, does he?"
Seated in the private box, Hela crossed her legs and stood up lazily, stretching with all the leisure of a queen who had seen too much.
Though her tone was filled with disdain, Jennifer and Zora, seated nearby, caught an uncharacteristic expression on her face; a genuine smile, unlike her usual professional facade.
"Um, Miss Hela, if I may… was The Other always like this?"
Despite all the brutal lessons the universe had taught her, Zora's curiosity remained intact, perhaps something woven into her very being.
Especially after Hela had spoken in that wistful, almost nostalgic tone.
Hela turned slightly and glanced at the timid Zora.
"That guy? He's always been Lothar's lapdog. Celebrating everything, whether it mattered or not."
"And every one of his 'celebrations' sounds nearly identical, only getting longer and more dramatic, like he's trying to narrate every single one of Lothar's exploits."
As memories of Svartalfheim surfaced, Hela's voice grew sharp, laced with animosity.
Zora shrank into herself, unsure what she'd said wrong, too nervous to explain, and too smart to ask further.
Still... "trickery," huh?
Hela stepped across a floor littered with shattered glass, eyes fixed on the golden-haired man in the sky. Arms crossed, she sneered.
He's the biggest trick of them all.
Who knows how many light-years away Thanos and Odin's fists were from landing, but the Grandmaster had already folded before a single blow.
The Collector and the Grandmaster, two ancient fools, had completely overturned Hela's previous expectations about immortals.
Weren't beings born alongside the cosmos supposed to have dignity and pride above all else?
Even when backed into a corner, they'd only bow their heads after being truly broken, like Ego, whose body had spasmed uncontrollably under Thanos's blade.
But these two? They surrendered even faster than a child caught stealing candy.
"Congratulations, to the champion of Sakaar's very first Gladiator Championship."
The Grandmaster, clad in a regal gold-trimmed robe, appeared before Lothar with a smile so wide Hela thought it pitiful.
"Your strength, Lothar... has truly surprised me."
The awards platform, long prepared, rose slowly. After his brief speech, the Grandmaster raised both hands and, with much internal deliberation, presented Lothar with his prize—a divine rib bone, meant to be taken home and used in a stew.
Meeting the Grandmaster for the first time in person, Lothar squinted slightly, but said nothing. Behind him, The Other, perfectly synchronized, stepped forward and took the rib bone platter from the Grandmaster's hands.
"Would you like to see your own majestic visage?"
The Grandmaster's smile grew even wider, perhaps out of fear of Thanos's wrath. He didn't seem to mind Lothar's rudeness, pointing cheerfully toward the stone wall directly opposite the arena.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Behold, Sakaar's first Grand Champion—Lothar!!!"
The announcer, face bulging with veins and spittle flying, had clearly poured his soul into the announcement. Finally, the shroud over the massive stone wall fell.
Etched into the rock was Lothar's unmistakable silhouette: sharp lines capturing his haughty smirk and undeniable pride. He loomed from the summit of the stone mural like a triumphant king, overseeing his domain.
"Well?"
The Grandmaster had expected shock, or at least some flicker of emotion. After all, when it came to entertainment across the galaxy, he prided himself as second to none.
But he was disappointed.
Lothar stared at the sculpture with not the slightest hint of interest. No surprise. No amusement. Nothing.
This guy… doesn't match what Hela said at all.
Lothar had already prepared for the Grandmaster to renege on the deal. Based on what Hela had told him, and what Woz had dug up, this man wasn't exactly known for keeping promises...
So rather than dwell on it, Lothar dropped the thought, and focused on making divine rib stew.
And then—
"This is your method?"
After Hela's "helpful" reminder, Lothar had agreed to test the stew right here on Sakaar. But watching Jennifer, flushed and exhausted after pouring every ounce of effort into boiling the divine rib… he was unimpressed.
Sure, the smell was mouthwatering. But was there any real technique here?
"Of course not. This is just step one."
Jennifer, looking a bit singed, sulked but said nothing. After all, that divine rib was something Lothar had earned.
She bit her finger. A drop of sapphire-blue blood welled up.
From it, four glowing pendants formed and hovered over the pot, their light weaving a radiant net that enveloped the stew in a protective dome.
"Not sure why the Grandmaster swapped out the godly phalanx bone for a rib, but this thing's divinity is way richer."
"So, I decided to change methods."
Her golden bangs swayed as she smiled and clapped her hands together. A glowing arcane array blazed into life. The divine rib melted into the stew under a flickering blue flame.
"Just as we agreed, half for each of us."
From the sacred marrow, two divine bones reformed and fell into the pot, their divinity sealed in place.
"Drink a bowl first, let your body adjust to the divinity. Then suck the marrow."
The rich, fragrant soup was ladled into a bowl. Lothar drank it in one go, satisfied. But just a few minutes later, Jennifer's expression contorted.
"Once your body adapts to the divine essence in the broth…"
Jennifer collapsed, sweating and gasping. Her skin flushed, her eyes squeezed shut.
Damn it...
She gritted her teeth, forcing her eyes open. Even with all her preparation, she'd clearly underestimated the divine energy's rejection.
"Lothar, you—!"
She meant to reassure him that this reaction was normal—but froze.
There he was.
Calmly sipping soup.
Almost... at the bottom of the pot.
"...??????"
"Buuurp~"
Lothar let out a rare belch.
Six bowls, and he was full? That had never happened before. Even he was surprised.
Clink.
A micro recording device slipped from Hela's fingers in shock.
"You're not... affected at all?!"
Her words hit Lothar like a switch. So she knew about the adaptation period, the side effects.
Which meant…
Lothar crushed the tiny recorder under his foot and glanced at the now-flailing Jennifer.
She! Was! Trying! To! Record! Him!
Record this!
"Are you sure your body's... normal?" Hela asked casually, hands behind her back, retreating a few small steps.
"Out!" Lothar's face darkened.
-------
Want to read ahead of schedule? Head over to my Patreon ——— patreon(.)com/PrimalDemon [remove the parentheses ( )]