Boston, inside a secret private base.
Five strong men were strapped to experimental beds. Around them, several people in white lab coats held syringes, injecting an unknown serum into their bodies.
"Quick, evacuate the lab immediately, start analyzing their vital signs!" one researcher ordered after the injection was done.
As the serum spread, screams tore through the lab. The men's skin began to glow a fiery red, light flaring first from their chests, then spreading across their entire bodies. The process was excruciating. Their cries grew louder, like they were being roasted alive.
Suddenly, four of the five men began to swell unnaturally, their bodies looking as though they might burst.
A fraction of a second later, a deafening boom filled the lab. Four of the men exploded into bloody fragments, leaving only one survivor.
The glow on the last man slowly faded away, and he appeared no different from a normal person.
"Experiment results are in. Five test subjects, one success, four failed," a researcher noted quickly in his logbook.
"Our Extremis virus still needs improvement. This success rate is far too low," said a middle-aged man in a nearby office, his tone filled with dissatisfaction.
The researcher grimaced. "Dr. Killian, we've been working on this project for years. Reaching this stage has already been extremely difficult. To push the success rate higher, with our current capacity, I fear it may be…"
"I've spent a fortune funding you. Don't tell me it can't be done. That man managed to create an armor that flies into the sky and dives into the sea. Don't tell me we can't perfect a mere virus!" Killian snapped, cutting him off.
"A mere virus? Killian, are you looking down on my invention?"
A woman stormed into the room, her face twisted with anger. It was none other than Maya Hansen, the primary researcher behind the Extremis project.
"Oh, Maya, that's not what I meant. The Extremis virus is, in my eyes, one of the greatest inventions of this world. Imagine what it could do for humanity. The crippled regrowing lost limbs, the blind regaining sight. Wouldn't that be a miracle?" Killian spread his hands, putting on the mask of a gentleman.
But Maya knew her partner too well. The man before her was no saint.
"You don't want to perfect Extremis for humanity. You want it for yourself," Maya said sharply.
Killian chuckled. "I won't pretend otherwise. You're right. Part of this is for me. But that doesn't mean it can't also benefit mankind, does it?"
Years ago, he had tested Extremis on himself, ignoring objections. Now, like every subject, he risked spontaneous detonation at any time. Perfecting the virus wasn't just for profit, it was his survival. With Extremis perfected, he would not only gain power, but also the means to take revenge on Tony Stark.
Thirteen years ago, Killian had gone to Stark with a heart full of hope, seeking collaboration. Instead, Stark, drunk and careless, left him freezing alone on a rooftop the entire night while he spent the evening with a woman.
That humiliation, that disregard, he had never forgotten. He had sworn then and there, he would never let it go.
"You're right, it could help people. But after thirteen years of research, if it could be perfected, it already would have been. Unless, of course, that man decides to help us," Maya muttered bitterly.
She remembered vividly that drunken night thirteen years ago, when Stark, barely sober, had nearly written the formula to perfect Extremis on a napkin. He was a womanizer, yes, but also a genius beyond comparison.
Killian's face darkened, fiery red lines spreading across his skin. "Maya, do you know what you're saying?"
"Ok, ok, forget I said it!" Maya quickly raised her hands in surrender. The last thing she wanted was to provoke his fury. He was unstable enough to kill her on the spot.
"I'll find my own way to perfect Extremis," she said hurriedly before leaving the room, not wanting to stay near him a moment longer.
Killian's eyes followed her with cold killing intent. "If you weren't still useful, you'd already be dead," he muttered.
A mechanical, synthesized voice suddenly echoed in the room. "Heh, do you want to perfect Extremis? I can help you."
Killian froze, startled. He was alone in the room. Where was that voice coming from?
"Who's there?!" His body ignited in a burst of fiery energy, ready for battle.
…
Meanwhile, in the divine realm, Roland Phils sat calmly, gazing at the Reality Stone in his hand.
[Log]: Your follower Bismarck has held a devout sacrificial ritual.
[Log]: Your follower Bismarck sacrificed a cosmic-grade Reality Stone.
[Log]: You have gained 1500 divine power.
[System]: The system triggered a critical reward. The quality of the offering has increased by 1.5 times.
[System]: You have obtained a cosmic-grade Reality Stone and 2250 divine power.
As Roland expected, the sacrifice granted him immense energy. Divine power was the key to his path forward. To ignite more divine flames and advance to the rank of God-King, he needed an unfathomable amount.
One divine flame required 10,000 divine power. One hundred flames meant a million. In terms of faith, it was an astronomical number. Even the 2250 from the Reality Stone was a drop in the ocean.
Still, it was faster than slowly gathering faith alone.
That was why he agreed to help Carol Danvers. The planet she wished to protect held countless lives, and while primitive, it was ripe for faith to take root. Compared to advanced civilizations, spreading worship among the ignorant was far easier.
Faith thrived where fear and mystery lived.
After absorbing the Reality Stone, Roland's godhoods reached the perfect number of ten. The stone was unlike the others, its true power only unlocked in combination, shaped by imagination and intellect. Like a Green Lantern's ring, but far greater.
Then came the revelation from the system. Fuse all six Infinity Stones, and their powers would merge into something new. What that new force would be was left for him to discover.
This time, he could not ignore it. His hunger for the Soul Stone burned strong.
"It seems time to send someone to Vormir," Roland mused, already devising a plan.
At that moment, Atago approached with a bow. "My Lord, Atago has a few things to offer you."
Roland chuckled. "Let me guess. You're not planning to offer yourself, are you?"
Atago's face flushed crimson. "I… I would, but the others might not approve!"
"You're not wrong. Many of us have thought the same," Sirius teased with a grin.
"I want to as well!" another chimed in, followed by a chorus of voices.
Roland sighed inwardly. This was a door best left unopened. He decided it was wiser to keep the old system of taking turns.
"Enough jokes. What do you have for me?" he asked.
Atago smiled, tilting her head. "It's nothing extraordinary. Just a few starships I recovered recently."
"Starships?"
"Yes, from Thanos's Black Order. Their firepower is impressive. I thought perhaps you could use them to create more sisters to serve you."
Roland's eyes lit up. It had indeed been some time since he last created new ship maidens, and his growing influence across the cosmos required more followers to spread his faith.
"You've done well, Atago. Later, I shall reward you generously," Roland said with satisfaction.
"Thank you, my Lord!" Atago dropped to her knees, her face glowing with excitement.
The others looked on in regret. Back on Xandar, there had been countless ships ripe for the taking, yet none of them had thought to bring them back as offerings.
Now, watching Atago bask in promised rewards, they realized just how much they had missed out on.
----------------------------------------------------------
• If you liked this chapter. Please consider supporting me by leaving Review, Comments, Power Stones, or Join in my Patreon for advance chapters ahead of the webnovel.
>> Patreon.com/NegativeTranslations <<