Chapter 865: Divine Empress Order VS Black Order

Ashes, raging winds, the heavens like an inferno.

Boom... boom boom! As the battlefield chosen after careful deliberation by multiple parties, the once-azure sky was gone. In its place lay thick dust and smoke. The light of the star and the gas giant was obscured, and death’s so-called "salvation" began to shroud this otherwise unremarkable and peaceful world.

Inside a concealed fortress built within mountain caverns, the aftershocks of orbital bombardment shook loose dust from the bunker ceiling.

Star-Lord Peter Quill watched from afar the battle raging across the heavens, as well as the innocent catastrophe befalling the planet’s surface—native inhabitants screaming, crying, wailing, either fleeing their cities or scrambling to seize ships and escape their homeworld.

Chaotic. Piercing.

"This isn’t a personal grudge..."

Star-Lord muttered involuntarily.

It was too tragic. These rational alien beings—whose exact names he could not even pronounce—should have been living in peace here. But all of that had turned to smoke. As the blades of the Divine Empress Order and the Black Order clashed once more, disaster descended.

In the destructive aftershocks of interstellar war, ordinary life and weaker races were this fragile. A moment’s carelessness meant utter annihilation.

Once-vibrant green plains had dimmed into lifeless darkness, erased beneath the overlapping waves of macro-cannon shells, lance beams, plasma streams, electromagnetic rail strikes, space torpedoes, interstellar missiles... countless forces of destruction intertwining.

The planet’s uniquely integrated semi-interstellar cities—once harmonized with its natural environment—were now ravaged by the relentless crash of falling starship wreckage. The ruins buried countless corpses, their bones tangled together into a horrifying graveyard.

The grave of a civilization that perished before it could even rise.

The death of a civilization.

"Maybe I shouldn’t have asked the Master Chief to create an opportunity for us..."

Star-Lord was filled with guilt. The horrifying scenes before him even jolted him awake from his anxious urgency to rescue Gamora and punch his stubborn, love-sabotaging father-in-law a few times.

"If I hadn’t pushed them, maybe the Master Chief and the others would have fought Thanos somewhere else..."

Star-Lord had no knowledge of the war planning between the Master Chief and Selene. He naturally assumed that the Divine Empress Order fleet’s sudden assault—striking while the Black Order was stabilizing its foothold—was meant to cover them and create an opening for their operation.

The planet beneath his feet—if he had delayed even a single day, no, even a single Earth hour before sending that message about pursuing Thanos and boarding his flagship for a decapitation strike—perhaps the Divine Empress Order would not have acted so swiftly after establishing the rendezvous point. Perhaps this poor civilization might have escaped catastrophe.

After all, it was his message. When the Master Chief informed them that his forces were already engaged with the Black Order, it had been the Guardians of the Galaxy who requested permission to join the battle and be registered as friendly forces to avoid friendly fire.

Was he overthinking it?

Star-Lord didn’t think so.

In his emotionally vulnerable state, he felt he bore a large part of the responsibility.

They were the Guardians of the Galaxy, after all—the heroes who saved Xandar, who thwarted Thanos’ evil schemes, who had once traveled alongside Thanos’ daughter and knew countless secrets of his legions.

"Quill, this isn’t the time for self-pity!"

With bared teeth, Rocket the raccoon leapt up and smacked Star-Lord across the back of the head. Ever since leaving Earth, this idiot had been shouting "Gamora, Gamora..." all the way from the Milky Way to here, spending nearly all their savings on weapons like he was possessed. And now that the opportunity had arrived, he was getting sentimental?

Give me a break!

"Stop sniveling like some washed-up bar girl who lost her sugar daddy."

Rocket pointed at the burning sky. In low orbit, another thousand-meter-class Leviathan bio-ship of the Black Order was shot down, trailing blazing fire as it plummeted toward a city, detonating in a massive chain explosion. "It’s time. Thanos is there. Gamora is there!"

"Move. Get your head straight!"

With that, Rocket called out to Groot and began gearing up without further comment—strapping on reinforced half-body armor with electronic muscle fibers, an auto-reactive energy shield, a vacuum-survival airtight barrier, a meltagun pistol, a plasma pistol, a multi-barrel blaster rifle, black hole bombs, barrier grenades...

Many of them had been generously provided by the Divine Empress Order.

Mantis and Drax the Destroyer merely patted Star-Lord’s shoulder before silently stacking as much offensive and defensive equipment onto themselves as possible.

None of them were ordinary beings. With their physical strength, carrying this human-sized loadout was no issue.

"..."

His nose tinged red, his eyes faintly moist, Star-Lord knew he had been impulsive and selfish. Yet everyone was still willing to help him. He took a deep breath. A thousand words condensed into one sentence.

"Thank you."

"I promise. This is the last time."

Equipping his element guns, jet boots, and signature helmet, Star-Lord slid into the pilot’s seat without hesitation and shoved the engine throttle forward.

What had happened could not be undone. It was all Thanos’ fault. All he could do was rescue Gamora and then take Thanos down!

"Benatar, launch."

Vrrr—

The massive steel bird shot upward instantly. Amid roaring engines and howling winds that kicked up clouds of dust, the Benatar became an arrow climbing against the descending "fire meteors" toward the stratosphere.

Rumble—

A thunderous growl rolled across the sky. Only then did Star-Lord clearly see its source—monstrous behemoths forged from endless steel and lethal killing machinery.

Though the Divine Empress Order fleet was small, every vessel was a colossal star-destroyer, standing in regal poise like immovable reefs before the endless tide of the Black Order’s patchwork grand fleet—an amalgamation of plunder races and pirate conglomerates.

Their sky-blocking majesty halted the Black Order’s rabble in their tracks.

The battle was ferocious. Light flooded the heavens like a void caught within a storm of blazing suns.

Countless killing machines poured unceasing fire into the sky. Thick macro-cannon shells and massive orange-red lance beams carved burning lines through the Black Order formations stretching to the horizon, weaving streaks of light like a blazing tapestry.

"Whoa! Now that’s a spectacle!"

Rocket shouted excitedly just as another boom— erupted. Amid violent tremors, Star-Lord yanked the controls, swerving to avoid a burning Chitauri bio-ship writhing like a flaming serpent.

Amid violent explosions and the wails of the Chitauri, the Benatar streaked past at high speed. Not long after it plunged straight toward Thanos’ iconic flagship—shaped like two massive crossbows fused together—a woman burst forth, piercing out from a half-biological, half-metal warship.

A strikingly beautiful woman with purple hair. Her vivid, captivating crimson eyes locked onto the Guardians of the Galaxy’s shuttle as it flashed away across tens of thousands of miles in an instant.

"They’ve set off... But can they truly breach the Mad Titan’s flagship?"

Wielding twin scarlet spears, Scáthach darted and weaved through the Black Order’s web of interstellar fighters, gunships, and warship fire, opening a channel to her Master—Master Chief John.

"We’ll let them try. It was their choice."

Crimson lance beams flared in the dark vacuum. Warship cannons roared like thunder.

Seated within the command nexus on the bridge of the flagship, Master Chief John compiled and analyzed data gathered from augur arrays, communication channels, and servitor observation towers. With Cortana’s assistance, he was directing and refining the defensive battle line of the 117th Strike Cruiser Fleet.

From time to time, his gaze shifted from the scope to the figures on the lower level of the bridge—Esdeath, the ’Gorgon,’ and Karna, who stood as a personal ceremonial guard. His fingers tapped lightly against the tabletop.

"No."

Moving her eyes away from the screen displaying the Benatar’s trajectory, Selene instantly understood what John was considering and stopped him without hesitation.

"A commander does not charge into the fray personally."

It was obvious that John still carried the habit of descending to the front lines, fighting shoulder to shoulder with his troops. But Selene would never allow him to rush into battle at the outset, trading volleys against enemy main batteries.

If he were truly wounded—or worse—reassembling the Heroic Spirit Servants would be no simple matter. As one of the deepest anchors embedded into the Marvel universe, his loss would severely weaken powerful Servants such as Esdeath, Scáthach, King Hassan, Gilgamesh, and others. Some might even be unable to maintain materialization and fade from the world.

Selene would have to restructure everything from scratch. Although Saitama and Merlin’s circle on Earth could serve as alternate anchors, it would be far too troublesome.

That was also why she had gathered Esdeath and other Servants possessing defensive Noble Phantasms and protective abilities around John—to form a layered shield at his side.

John did not insist. Through the scope, he cast Cortana a helpless glance as she clapped approvingly.

"Without deploying higher-tier forbidden sealed weapons from reserve, this level of destructive output is already our limit."

Selene frowned. Although they currently held the advantage, Thanos’ numerical superiority was grotesquely overwhelming.

It could not be helped. From its inception, the 117th Strike Cruiser Fleet had never been designed by the Sacred Selene Empire as a decisive main battle fleet. It was meant for patrol, suppression, expansion—guerilla operations.

"With sufficient numbers, even ants can devour an elephant."

Under Thanos’ command were vast numbers of hyper-aggressive, war-hungry species like the Chitauri—half-biological, half-metal organisms capable of rapid mass production through cloning gestation. Their bio-ships filled the sky.

There were also the Outriders—fearless organic weapons able to integrate with interstellar vehicles. Their tactics and assault patterns reminded Selene of a swarm race.

Rumble—

Explosive firelight reflected across Selene’s face. Beyond the enormous hollowed stained-glass dome of the bridge, the layered energy shields and void shields rippled densely under sustained bombardment.

At present, both sides were engaged in main battery exchanges. No boarding actions had begun. Including Selene, none of the fleet commanders were inclined to deploy the Demon Inquisitor Chapter or Imperial troops for boarding. It was meaningless. The ships were too small. In the Empire’s eyes, thousand-meter-class vessels held no value for boarding. If the enemy self-destructed, it would be a waste.

By contrast, the Heroic Spirit Servants dispatched externally had each transformed into interstellar assault craft in their own right—each a one-person army.

Casualties were inevitable. Several Servants had already been focused down by concentrated fire, struck by main batteries and forced to withdraw—regretfully ending their experience of transformative awakening under the "Limiter."

Among them were Roland, one of Charlemagne’s Twelve Paladins; Renaud de Montauban; Suzuka Gozen; Okita Souji; Jason; Robin Hood; Hector; and even one generation of Hassan...

Carrying with them the brief insights and evolved strength they had gained, they dissipated—scattering and flowing away along some higher-dimensional current, winding toward a resplendent eternal radiance beyond the boundless multiversal expanse.

The power of technological weaponry was no joke. None of this surprised Master Chief John.

Blessed by Selene, Servants manifested in overwhelming strength—often surpassing their might in life. Bearing the "Limiter," they possessed infinite potential. But unrealized potential remained only possibility. If the achieved results could not withstand annihilation, then all ended there.

Since the birth of the current universe, why had three great cosmic empires risen to dominance instead of Asgard or the various divine pantheons?

Because gods truly had been slain.

Not abstract conceptual deities—but beings of flesh and force. Even if you could shatter planets with a gesture and pluck stars with a snap of your fingers, when tens of thousands of radiant cruisers, planet-class warships, and "World Destroyer" stellar-system vessels of a cosmic empire trained annihilation waves and negative bombs upon you...

You would still die.

Selene saw it clearly from the bridge. Hector—the great Trojan hero who once stood against Achilles in the Trojan War—had been struck by a Black Order capital ship’s "Stellar Terminator" ion cannon. Even his unleashed Noble Phantasm was swallowed whole.

He truly could not endure it.

Even had Hector evolved his Noble Phantasm through enlightenment to the point of annihilating nations—capable of sinking the Greek peninsula itself—the Black Order’s main guns could shatter stars and catalyze them into supernovae.

Without the Infinity Stones, even Selene’s current incarnation would not dare to withstand a warship’s main battery head-on. She had seized much of the power’s origin, yes—but it remained in the process of integration and development. Whether she could endure was uncertain. And even if she could survive one blast, what of a coordinated volley?

"Report. Port-side Cruiser Thirty-Nine’s shield field is critical. Imminent overload."

"Rotate. Second formation detach and reinforce. Integrate into the multi-layer shield array. Maintain frequency."

John responded instantly, coordinating with Cortana in seamless harmony, maneuvering the entire 117th Fleet as though it were his own limb.

"I believe our ’first impression’ has been sufficiently profound. Our actions have proven our strength. Consider it striking the opening blow on behalf of the Xandarians, the Kree, and the Shi’ar." John turned toward the Servant representatives on the bridge—Esdeath and the ’Gorgon.’

"That will suffice. Master Chief, take this."

Selene cupped her hands lightly. A dim yellow Gemstone separated from the back of her hand and drifted toward John.

"A Gemstone. Even if you cannot wield the cosmic authority contained within its universe, as a source of universal energy, it is more than adequate." Like Hydra or S.H.I.E.L.D. once used the Tesseract.

"The Servants’ energy expenditure may intensify shortly. You will need it."

After a moment of contemplation, Selene rose and looked toward the center of the Black Order’s vast formation on the screen—Thanos’ flagship.

"The father-in-law meeting the ugly son-in-law... He really has chosen to see Star-Lord."

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