Nikkor's death marked the complete annihilation of the Centaurian seed squad. With their new king — the strongest combatant — now dead, the remaining warriors were no match for Lothar, not even if three of them combined forces. The atmosphere of despair mingled with the stench of blood, composing a tragic symphony in the heart of the prival jungle.
Silver combat boots, glinting coldly under the sunlight, stepped across the bodies of fifty Centaurians, halting before the escape ship's hatch.
"Woz, rewrite the program."
"Understood, Prince Lothar."
A beam of light projected from Lothar's wrist communicator, weaving the image of the robotic cat, Woz. With the aid of a small device Lothar inserted into the escape ship's control panel, Woz began rewriting the ship's backend protocols. The artificial intelligence Deaver, which had previously conversed with Nikkor, stood no chance against Woz's invasive techniques. In re minutes, the system was completely purged.
"Program rewrite complete, Prince Lothar."
"Inventory the supplies."
Perched on the control panel, Lothar tilted his chin upward, watching the data flicker across the holographic screen. The escape ship, designed to carry fifty people, stored an unexpected cache of supplies and data. The abundance of Centaurian civilization records was of little interest to Lothar. What mattered were the scarce survival provisions — barely enough to feed Thanos' Black Order.
"Standard procedure. Notify Ebony Maw and have our n handle the aftermath."
Without hesitation, Lothar departed after claiming the spoils.
"Prince Lothar, aren't you curious about the Centaurians' secret history?" Woz's hologram flickered into view aboard the Vegeta, Lothar's personal warship. The AI helpfully reminded him that the Centaurians' ancient records might contain ntions of Planet Vegeta or the cosmic tyrant Frieza.
"Not necessary. Set course for ho."
"Understood, Prince Lothar."
The Vegeta, guided by Woz's navigation systems, began its return journey. Clad in a black combat suit, Lothar entered the training room to begin his daily regin.
With age, strength, and experience, the concept of the multiverse had finally settled in Lothar's mind. Neither Frieza nor Planet Vegeta belonged to this universe — a conclusion drawn from years of research. Thanos himself had confird the existence of other universes.
Lothar speculated that his arrival in this universe stemd from the simultaneous destruction of Planet Vegeta and Titan, creating a temporary rift between two realities. His mother had placed him in an escape pod, which had inadvertently crossed the rift — delivering him from one apocalypse to another.
If he wished to avenge his mother, he would first need to open a passage between universes.
Lothar was painfully self-aware. His arrival had been a cosmic accident, born from the imnse energies of two planets' annihilation. Even at full power, Thanos' strength couldn't rival the core detonation of a single planet — let alone two.
Augnting his power through external ans wouldn't suffice. Besides, Lothar had no idea what kind of enhancent device could grant him such a colossal leap in strength.
He had even considered destroying two planets to replicate the phenonon — but after careful calculations, he abandoned the idea. He was still too weak. His body couldn't withstand the cataclysmic forces unscathed.
Training was his only path forward.
Every spare mont — whether in transit or during missions — was dedicated to honing his power. Though the road to vengeance was long, each small improvent brought Lothar satisfaction.
This was a war only he could fight.
Without knowing the coordinates of his original universe, all he could do was strengthen himself.
Sweat poured from Lothar's body as he strained against the crushing gravity of the training chamber. This thod, once popular on Titan, had shaped Thanos' youth. Modified by Thanos himself, the gravity chamber now accommodated Lothar's Saiyan physiology.
"Prince Lothar, news from Lord Thanos."
Woz's voice echoed through the chamber. Lothar opened the hatch, his steps shifting from sluggish to nimble in the span of a doorway.
"Father."
Still glistening with sweat, Lothar approached the control console. A golden-armored projection of Thanos awaited him.
"Training again, Lothar?" Thanos turned, his gaze softening at the sight of his sweat-soaked son.
"Yes."
"Rest and recover. You're going to Chitauri Pri."
Though Lothar's unique physiology granted him remarkable endurance, Thanos' concern for his adopted son had beco second nature.
"Chitauri Pri? Have you finally decided to act against the Chitauri, Father?"
The swift defeat of the Centaurians had already clued Lothar in. His father had reached the limits of his patience with the current Chitauri ruler.
"The Chitauri are a primitive race, but they still have value." Thanos shook his head. "I need them as soldiers — they simply require... better minds."
"Your target is the Chitauri King. Proxima Midnight and Corvus Glaive are already there. Seek them out upon arrival — they'll brief you on the Chitauri King's situation."
"Understood, Father."
With Lothar's affirmation, Thanos' projection faded.
"Proxima Midnight and Corvus Glaive..." Lothar murmured, letting the water cascade over him as he showered. Images of the two Black Order generals flickered through his mind.
To dispatch two of his most trusted lieutenants alongside Lothar — Thanos' simring fury toward the Chitauri was unmistakable.
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