"Fack!"
"Did we just kick a hornet's nest?!"
"The Matrix Family must think highly of us. There are so many of them here—it looks like the entire race showed up!"
"We're screwed!"
"This isn't something we can resist!"
"This would take the combined power of every civilization in the galaxy to stand a chance!"
"Even if the entire Predator organization joined forces, they'd just end up as toothpicks in their jaws—no return at all!"
Despair began to spread like wildfire.
Star-Lord and the others couldn't see a single glimmer of hope.
They already regretted ever coming to the Kree Empire.
What kind of mission was this?! A straight-up suicide run!
They weren't just some little Guardians of the Galaxy anymore—Xandar itself would kneel if it showed up, and even Thanos would have to call them "Dad" to get out alive!
"Albert! How the hell did you let them grow to this point?!"
"Is your brain filled with Shet?!"
Albert could only laugh bitterly, unsure of how to respond.
The so-called Matrix Family never played by the rules.
No one could've predicted this.
At first, they'd thought it was a minor issue. Even if it proved troublesome, it should've only been a Xandar-level threat.
Something easily handled within their territory.
But the Matrix Family's growth had been beyond logic—fierce, fast, and brutally efficient.
Barbaric, even.
The Supreme Intelligence ran analysis after analysis.
It determined that the Matrix Family's core likely originated from a highly advanced civilization—one whose technology vastly surpassed that of the Kree Empire.
They might as well be called a god-level civilization.
While they didn't possess the personal might of gods, their racial ability was practically engineered to dominate the tech-based evolutionary path.
The group that appeared in the Kree Empire today?
Just a minor offshoot.
A forgotten, underdeveloped fragment.
If this was what a neglected branch could do, the true Matrix Family would have crushed them all in days.
Still, few in the Kree Empire ever believed this theory.
They preferred the label monsters.
The Kree Empire had ruled the Milky Way for millennia.
When had any other race ever dared to surpass them in tech?
And the Matrix Family's behavior was monstrous—morality-free, efficiency-obsessed, utterly alien.
Even with the tempting offer of mechanical ascension—immortality, infinite upgrades, perfect bodies—most Kree citizens remained unmoved.
That was the pride of the Kree!
…But not everyone had that resolve.
Plenty of other civilizations gave in, seduced by the offer.
And that's exactly why the Kree Empire had fallen so swiftly—reduced to defending only its core regions, praying for a miracle.
At that moment, a thought struck Albert like lightning.
If nearly all of the Matrix forces had gathered here…
Wouldn't that leave their other territories vulnerable?
He contacted the homeworld immediately.
When the Supreme Intelligence heard the news, it ordered the emperor to mobilize the entire army.
Break through the Matrix's defensive line.
Find an opening.
Buy the Empire a future.
As for the direction of the breakout?
Absolutely not toward this battlefield.
There was no plan to ally with the God of Magic to strike at the Matrix Family.
Even if they believed his power could match theirs, they knew:
This was only a fragment of the Matrix's might.
Meanwhile, nearly all of the Matrix had mobilized here.
The outcome was already decided.
Even if the God of Magic came in person, there was no winning this battle.
The smart play?
Escape.
Preserve the imperial spark.
Live to fight another day—when the God of Magic's armies and the united galaxy could strike back.
Zola saw through their strategy instantly.
Although he was mildly disappointed they didn't go all-in for a decisive battle, he didn't dwell on it.
He issued orders: the remaining Matrix forces were to delay the Kree military for as long as possible.
Keep them pinned down.
The most important objective was securing transport ships.
As long as they could harvest the population and claim the untakeable planets, their growth would skyrocket.
He didn't care about the Kree royal family.
Let them rot.
The priority was one thing only—cripple the subordinates of the God of Magic.
It would be the perfect warning shot.
A message carved in blood:
Don't mess with the Matrix.
What's more, there was real potential in this battle.
If they could infect the God of Magic's followers with the cross-modal virus, it would amplify their power.
The stronger the host, the stronger the infected.
The thought thrilled Zola.
He was dying to see the expression on the God of Magic's face.
Would he finally act?
Zola hoped so.
Because the God of Magic was the biggest threat to the Matrix Family's ambition of galactic and universal conquest.
The magical net he wove hung over the Matrix like a crushing mountain.
It was the reason so many civilizations rallied together.
It was the reason the gods had returned.
As long as the God of Magic lived, the Matrix Family—and HYDRA—would forever be limited.
He had to die.
And now that he'd arrived lightly armed, it was the best shot they'd ever get.
Even if they couldn't kill him, they could hurt him.
Badly.
Zola poured his will into the battlefield, entering the body of the most heavily integrated Matrix soldier present.
Their strength varied wildly—depending on assimilation, modifications, and former power levels.
But the more integrated they were, the more monstrous they became.
Their tech, paired with absurd durability, made them overwhelming.
If not for the absurdly powerful women in Aaron's circle—each one comparable to Ancient One or Odin—last time would've been a complete wipe.
This time?
Even with magic net support, if they only used their borrowed powers and original spells, they'd inevitably lose.
When quantity hits a certain point…
Even gods can fall.
And the Matrix Family had numbers.
Insane numbers.
Aaron didn't know the exact figure.
But by estimating from how much of the Kree Empire they'd consumed…
It was terrifying.
The Kree had ruled for 10,000 years.
They'd conquered the Skrull Empire and expanded across thousands of galaxies and countless worlds.
Now, the Matrix had devoured almost all of that.
Including many Kree themselves.
Their numbers likely exceeded hundreds of billions.
And if they had more time to digest everything they conquered?
They'd be ten times stronger.
As their numbers grew, so did their tech and strength.
Yet despite this, they still couldn't surpass a true civilization empire—yet.
But given more time, they would.
Even Heavenly Father-level gods could die under the swarm.
They weren't immortal.
They weren't invulnerable.
Add in the Matrix's mechanical virus?
Even a god's body wouldn't be safe.
If Aaron didn't personally join the fight, Wanda and the others would have to retreat.
But that was exactly what Aaron had predicted.
The Matrix Family was being very cooperative.
Time to give them their "reward."
"Is it time?"
Jean, long prepared, asked softly as she noticed Aaron's slight change in expression.
Aaron nodded.
"Let's go. It's time."
With that, she embraced the power of the Dark Phoenix, and the two stepped through the golden portal.
As soon as they left—
The Dimensional Lords hiding in the shadows lost their minds with excitement.
"The plan worked!"
"He finally left Earth! Off to fight the Matrix!"
"Nastir, this win's yours. The Purple Dimension is all yours!"
In the depths of Hell—
Mephisto shot a smug look at Nastir, both glowing with excitement.
This was it.
They had waited far too long.
First, the cross-modal virus was released, sowing chaos on Earth.
Then, Zola took over the Matrix Family.
Mephisto had deliberately stayed on the sidelines, allowing Zola to grow.
Why?
Because Zola would clash with the same enemies they needed to defeat.
Better to let Zola lead the charge, creating the perfect opening.
Now, the fruit was ripe.
The fortress of the real universe—Earth—had lost its most critical defender.
With Aaron gone, only Kamar-Taj and the scattered superheroes remained.
The five Dimensional Lords alliances could handle them easily.
They even had a few cards left to play.
"Contact Dormammu, Satanish, and Mystery. It's our turn now."
Mephisto grinned.
This was a guaranteed win.
Outer Space.
The battle had begun.
The endless ocean of omnics launched wave after wave at Wanda's group.
Even without close combat, their energy beams filled the cosmos.
The barrage from tens of thousands of warships demanded immense magical defenses.
This wasn't a battle of attrition—it was an outright flood.
No matter how powerful you were, there was a limit to how much energy you could absorb.
Even gods would fall if caught off guard.
And this?
This was beyond overwhelming.
Only the Magic Net allowed Wanda and the others to hold out—absorbing some of the energy and converting it to power.
But even that wasn't Aaron himself.
Without his unique abilities, the absorption efficiency was much lower.
They had to burn massive reserves just to hold their position.
Meanwhile, the Matrix Family didn't let up.
One wave after another.
An ocean with no end.
The very stars seemed swallowed by their numbers.
Many of the defenders had already accepted death.
There was no hope.
No mercy.
This was the greatest human wave tactic the universe had ever seen.
Even gods would waver in the face of such raw force.
But not Wanda's group.
Hela, though grim-faced, remained composed.
They had faith.
If all else failed—they could still escape.
More importantly, they believed in Aaron.
Aaron never lost.
Everything was under his control.
Zola watched their calm with growing confusion.
Why weren't they afraid?
Why weren't they panicking?
Did he not go far enough?
He frowned, just as that familiar golden portal appeared.
Aaron stepped onto the battlefield, Dark Phoenix by his side.
The duel had entered its final, most chaotic phase.
Zola's eyes locked on that familiar figure.
And he muttered, "I've been waiting for you for a long time, Aaron—the God of Magic."
Aaron saw him and smiled.
A mocking, effortless smile.
If Zola had a human face, it would be filled with humiliation and fury.
Even now…
Aaron still looked down on him.
Even after creating the largest civilization, after toppling the strongest empire—he still wasn't acknowledged.
That was true contempt.
A scorn that cut through body, mind, and soul.
In the God of Magic's eyes…
Zola was nothing but a clown.
A joke.
An annoyance.
Never an equal.
"DAMN IT!"
"Today—I will kill a god!"
"HYDRA WILL RISE FROM THE GRAVE OF THE GODS!"
"KILL HIM FOR ME!!"
[Please support me at my patreon if you want more: patreon/OGCrafter for 20+ chapters]