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The primary reason Coulson chose to join Chaldea was Shen He. In her, he saw the future of what it truly meant to protect the world—not just because of Chaldea's formidable strength, but because of Shen He's character. She was ordinary, and she cherished life. While at S.H.I.E.L.D., Coulson had witnessed countless actions committed in the name of protecting the world—actions that could never be forgiven, including his own. But with Shen He, protecting the world felt like a simple, everyday task, something done without grand speeches or hidden agendas. That was what truly struck Coulson's heart. With her, and with Chaldea, it was possible to walk in the light, to act in ways accepted by the people, and to embrace a future that was good for everyone—including themselves. But all of this depended on one thing: Shen He remaining unchanged—or rather, the Chaldeans remaining true to their ideals. If they ever began to prioritize power and personal interest above their principles, everything would fall apart.
Semiramis, of course, couldn't immediately see these thoughts in Coulson. She still didn't know enough about this world—let alone about Coulson himself—but looking at his expression, she could tell that a firm, almost foolish conviction was buried in his heart, the kind of conviction she'd seen in the heroes of her era, men who, even if they were not kings, were dangerous in their own right. A faint, almost imperceptible sneer touched her lips as she began to understand Coulson's place in this power structure: should he lose his master's trust, he would lose everything. Emperors—especially empresses—were known to be vengeful.
As Coulson and Semiramis prepared to head to Los Angeles, Shen He had already finished a conversation with Black Bolt and the others. The King of Attilan had expressed shame over his subordinate's reckless actions, but he had also explained their reasoning. Among those who attacked Chaldea, one figure emitted a strange aura. It was similar to their kind, yet not the same, and that anomaly had driven Gore to pursue without hesitation. "That might've been one of the alien races left behind on Earth," Shen He replied without much concern before sighing. "In short, people still have a deep-rooted fear of alien races. I don't need to tell you how important it is to seek unity while preserving differences. For now, it's best not to highlight your distinctions—emphasize your similarities instead."
In truth, Shen He felt somewhat embarrassed when speaking with Black Bolt, as he had once promised to help the Inhumans reintegrate into Earth society but had not been able to offer any substantial support—not because he didn't want to, but because Chaldea's own standing was in a delicate balance. Still, with the Sky Garden's upcoming launch, new opportunities would arise. "We've issued a public apology," Black Bolt gestured via their video call, "but the presence of that mysterious raider has worried several elders. If they are truly an outsider, Earth's police will have trouble catching them." Among the Inhumans, the Genetic Council elders often held more influence than the King himself, and though Black Bolt's personal standing had risen after crushing the previous rebellion, the structure of Attilan's government hadn't changed.
"I've dispatched Coulson and one of Chaldea's followers to Los Angeles," Shen He informed them. "Leave the matter to us. Do not interfere again. Learn from this. This is Earth, and on Earth, there are rules. Don't let people believe that aliens can do whatever they like just because they have power." That last sentence carried a sharp edge, but it was necessary, for projecting the failings of a few onto the whole is a human trait—found in every nation. "I'll keep them in line," Black Bolt gestured again. This mess had indeed caused trouble for Chaldea. "Your Majesty," Gore spoke from the side, his anger evident, "we were the ones attacked first. As Royal Guard Captain, I had the responsibility to pursue."
"But you failed to catch them," Karnak scolded with narrowed eyes. "This is Earth. When will you learn restraint?" "Then why don't we just go back to Attilan?" Gore snapped, and the moment those words left his mouth, many Inhumans around the room visibly perked up, revealing that this wasn't just Gore's opinion. Back in Attilan's structured system, where strength often determined status, many had lived in comfort on the moon and never truly longed to return to Earth. "That's not an option right now," Karnak responded calmly. As Attilan's Royal Strategist, he possessed a high-energy quantum computer in his mind. "Statistically speaking, if we fail to integrate into Earth's society, there's an 82% chance we'll face conflict within the next ten years… with a 64% chance of defeat…" "Alright, alright!" Gore growled, cutting him off; he hated numbers almost as much as he hated lectures.
Black Bolt remained silent. When his father was alive, he had taught him that a true king must understand his people's hearts. Back then, consumed by guilt after accidentally killing his parents, Black Bolt failed to listen—and it led to his brother's betrayal. Now, he observed, noting that these noble Inhumans and Gene Council elders still clung to their arrogance, resisting Earth integration and steeped in pride. Perhaps it was time for a different future, but for that, they might need Chaldea's help. "Your Majesty," Medusa gently squeezed Black Bolt's hand. "Mr. Shen mentioned sending a follower?" "Yes," he gestured. "Do you know who?" "…No," he shook his head. Despite their cooperation, only Shen He truly interacted with Chaldea, and even Crystal, who had joined their Guardian force, rarely engaged with the followers. To the world, Chaldean followers remained shrouded in mystery, and their appearance during the recent war—donning armor like mythic monsters—had left a lasting impression. Chaldean followers were the core of the organization's power.
"If it's not Lady Shen, then there's a 73% probability the follower will take overt action," Karnak added. "That would be beneficial for diverting public scrutiny." Interest in Chaldea's followers was at an all-time high, with every video or image of them from the war going viral. Mysterious, powerful, and breathtaking, these figures captivated the world. "I hope it's her," Black Bolt gestured solemnly, recalling how, if it was Jeanne d'Arc who had come, then the enemy would have no hope of escape. When he first saw her, his blood had stirred in discomfort, as if responding to something ancient and deep.
So—who had Chaldea sent? The answer was soon revealed when Chaldea, under its front as a virtual reality company, announced that they were accepting a formal commission from the Kingdom of Attilan to investigate the incident. Although it was framed as a civilian inquiry, Chaldea's current reputation carried more weight than most governments. Still, that was nothing compared to what came next. When the cameras showed a gorgeously adorned woman with pointed ears like an elven queen, public interest exploded. While followers are meant to be legendary figures, Semiramis represented something deeper—an ideal of beauty, power, and seduction. In legend, she was a demigod—thus, she bore traits beyond the human. Her beauty was said to entrance any man—thus, her face was utterly stunning. She adored decadence, luxury, and the arts—thus, her attire was regal and exquisitely detailed.
Unlike Jeanne, who was not famed for beauty, Semiramis radiated impossible allure. Just by introducing herself, she instantly enraptured millions of young people online—many of whom didn't even know who she was. It was the charm befitting an Empress of legend. Even Shen He hadn't expected this result; ignoring style and comparing beauty alone, Jeanne and Violet were already at the pinnacle, and Shen He had long since developed resistance to such things. But Semiramis's debut ignited a global frenzy, her three-minute appearance shared endlessly and accompanied by hormone-charged comments: So beautiful! "Is she even real?!" "She's a goddess!" "I can't breathe!" "Every other actress looks dull now!" Across languages and cultures, the consensus emerged: Semiramis was the most beautiful woman in the world.
Her fame surged like wildfire. In Los Angeles, thousands gathered at the airport just for a glimpse; banners were raised, giant portraits waved in the air, and in two hours she became a global superstar. Coulson, watching the news on the plane, could only sigh. "Your Majesty, should we request a blocked terminal?" he asked. "No need," Semiramis replied with irritation. "Why should I bend for the ignorant?" She was used to admiration, and by now such shallow awe barely interested her, but even she was stunned by the scale of the crowd. They screamed the moment she stepped out—some driven by awe, others by conformity, or simply raw, directionless energy. "In this era… does beauty grant everything?" she asked. "Not everything," Coulson replied with a wry smile, "but it does grant a lot." "Interesting," she mused.
She quickly adjusted, realizing this was not her ancient age of famine and war; in this world, she held overwhelming advantage. To manipulate the masses with beauty was natural for her, and with just a hint of favor, she could make them hers. Decision made, the Empress strode forward. She didn't do anything special, but the crowd roared, people pushed forward, and even some police forgot their duties, mesmerized by her regal presence. A soft lavender glow lit up the ground beneath her as a complex magic circle expanded at her feet, gently pushing back those surging forward, bodyguards included. Without pause, she walked as if through a dream, leaving behind a faint, intoxicating fragrance. People strained toward her, but no matter how desperately they tried, they could not breach the barrier. The moment, broadcast on TV, looked like a goddess descending from the heavens, and even those unmoved by her looks found themselves awestruck by her presence. Semiramis crossed the crowd like a sovereign from another realm—silent, untouchable, magnificent.
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