Ronan sat atop his throne, gazing down with a mixture of amusent and contempt at the dark battle armor standing before him.
"Impressive," he mused, his voice laced with derision. "You actually managed to bypass all my surveillance systems and make it here. Quite the achievent."
He leaned forward slightly, but his tone remained dismissive.
"But tell … now that you stand before , what can you possibly do?"
A slow, cruel smile spread across his face.
"You went through so much trouble, only to walk straight into your own destruction. It should be an honor for you—dying by the hands of the great Accuser Ronan. A fitting end for a lowly warrior from Earth."
BOOM!
A brilliant flash of blue light surged forward, roaring toward Ronan's throne.
CRASH!
The impact tore a massive hole into the seat behind him, sending fragnts of tal and debris scattering across the room.
Ronan's amused expression vanished. He frowned, slowly rising to his feet.
Then—in the blink of an eye—his massive fra lunged forward, covering the distance between them with unnatural speed.
His long arm lashed out, gripping Gene by the throat.
But before Ronan could tighten his hold, the underarm thrusters on Gene's suit activated at full power, propelling him out of Ronan's grasp in an instant.
Gene landed smoothly, his systems recalibrating.
Ronan sneered. "Hmph. Insignificant insect."
He didn't even bother reaching for his warhamr. In his eyes, crushing a re Earthling with his bare hands was already more effort than was necessary.
With a sudden burst of power, Ronan threw a brutal punch aid directly at Gene's torso.
CLANG!
Gene countered, raising his leg to block. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the floor, leaving a deep tallic imprint where Gene's vibranium-reinforced boots had braced against the ground.
Without missing a beat, Ronan shifted gears, pressing the attack. Blow after blow rained down, his movents precise and terrifyingly fast for soone of his imnse size.
The Kree Accuser was no re brute.
His raw power exceeded that of ten Hulks. But beyond that, his mastery of close-quarters combat was flawless—honed through centuries of warfare.
His arms beca phantoms, each strike blurring into the next as he relentlessly pressed forward.
But Gene's neural network was calculating at lightspeed. Every movent, every shift in Ronan's form was analyzed and predicted in real-ti.
Gene twisted his body at an angle, redirecting one of Ronan's strikes mid-air. The precise, synchronized chanics within his armor surged with power, counteracting Ronan's brute force.
The Kree warlord's arm bent slightly under the impact.
But in the sa instant, Ronan's iron fist slamd into Gene's chest.
BANG!
Gene staggered backward. Sparks erupted from the floor as his armored boots scraped against the tal surface, absorbing the force of the hit.
Ronan rolled his shoulder, watching Gene with narrowed eyes. He hadn't felt actual pain in years.
And now, an Earthling had made him feel it.
His irritation flared into sothing darker.
Ronan charged again.
His strikes beca even more relentless, aiming to crush Gene completely.
But this ti, Gene was ready.
Twin golden discs shimred into existence in his hands.
Kamar-Taj combat magic.
Gene had studied under the greatest mystics on Earth—and while he hadn't reached the level of the Ancient One, his neural network allowed him to perfectly integrate their martial techniques with his own combat style.
The sorcerers of Kamar-Taj weren't just spellcasters. They had developed their own unique lee combat techniques—a blend of physical strikes and magical enhancent, turning their bodies into living weapons.
Now, Gene wielded that knowledge.
Ronan swung, but Gene's body twisted in an unnatural, fluid motion, evading the strike by re inches.
In return, his golden magic discs slamd into Ronan's ribs—delivering an explosive impact that sent the Kree warrior flying backward.
Ronan crashed into the walls of his own warship.
CRACK!
tal groaned under the impact as Ronan's massive fra was montarily embedded in the shattered steel.
A second later, he ripped himself free.
He was furious.
Gene remained motionless, watching him with an impassive gaze.
Ronan's breathing was heavier, his muscles tensing with barely contained rage. Though his body remained uninjured, Gene had done sothing far worse—
He had wounded his pride.
The energy radiating from Ronan's body spiked. His killing intent turned suffocating.
Then—he moved.
Faster. Stronger. Every ounce of his fury was poured into this next attack.
Gene's systems detected the shift instantly.
And instead of dodging—he stood his ground.
Ronan's fist collided with his armor—
And yet… it felt like he had punched through air.
Gene had subtly redirected the force, dispersing the impact before it could reach him.
Ronan's footing faltered.
Gene took full advantage.
Six missiles launched from his shoulder compartnts.
Ronan's eyes flickered in shock. He twisted his body to dodge, but the missiles were too close—they grazed past his face.
BOOM!
A chain of explosions erupted behind him, the heatwave engulfing the chamber.
When the smoke cleared, a streak of blue blood dripped from a fresh wound on Ronan's face.
Gene didn't stop.
His next attack slamd into Ronan's legs.
The sudden strike caused Ronan to stumble, his towering fra collapsing back onto his own throne.
For a brief mont, silence hung in the air.
Ronan—the mighty Accuser of the Kree Empire—sat upon his throne, but now, it looked less like a seat of power…
And more like a symbol of humiliation.
Gene tilted his head slightly.
"Funny. You look comfortable there."
Ronan's face darkened.
A deep, guttural growl rumbled from his throat.
"Enough!"
He extended his arm.
The massive warhamr beside the throne flew into his grasp.
He spun it once, letting its weight settle in his grip before pointing it at Gene.
His voice dropped into a lethal whisper.
"I will make you regret ever being born."
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