The Majestor

It was clear from the moment they entered the Citadel that they would not be able to escape here alive. The being who had come to their aid and decimated the Olympians was powerful, his presence was felt from the moment he arrived, but he did not exude mystical power. In fact, Perrikus struggled to feel any measure of mystical power from the draconian figure.

His power clearly did not lay in the mystic arts, but in brute strength and power. A fighter that rushed in, trusting their immense durability to deal with any magical attack until he got up close and then he would just beat them down. A being with strength so great that barriers and shields broke apart as if they weren't even there in the first place.

A being of overwhelming power.

The pinnacle of physical strength.

Yet the moment they entered the Citadel, Perrikus could sense the presence of many powerful beings. Each of them possessing cosmic and mystical energy on a level rivalling and surpassing Majeston Zelia and perhaps even the Union itself.

That alone, made Perrikus tense up, heart pounding in his chest as he looked around warily.

It was a bustling station, they had already passed hangers filled with thousands of species of all shapes and sizes. Each of them training in preparation for war, utilising every form of technology available. Not just guns, but also swords, spears and axes, they displaying great skill and discipline in all of them. Moving in unison to the call of their commanders, not a breath or movement out of synch with their fellow soldiers.

It was almost like watching the Asgardians or the Amazonians at work.

'Another faction with soldiers far greater than our own.' Not for the first time did Perrikus curse his mother's pride and unwillingness to train their worshippers. If they had, perhaps they could have defeated Asgard and avoided this whole mess to begin with.

"This way." The draconian figure ordered gruffly, his earlier platitudes and articulate language seemingly nothing more than more theatrics to mock the Olympians and even them. "Best you don't get lost, it'd be…unfortunate if something happened to our new ally so soon."

Nodding his head, Perrikus spared a glance at the Dark Gods he had brought with him to meet the Majestor. They are the strongest of the Dark Gods, Tokkots, Slototh and Adva. At least the former two could buy some time and he hoped that he could use Adva to make a speedy escape. But he knew there were many ways to block teleportation and portals, the mystical energy he felt growing stronger as they approached the centre making him wonder if her abilities would even work. He wondered if he had brought them all here to die, or if he would have to give into strict and harsh conditions to gain their aid.

Ultimately though, Perrikus did not know what he would do.

Would he give in to the demands all in order to save the Dark Gods from their inevitable destruction? Or would he refuse, battle them Olympians, the Kree, the Skrulls and possibly a new enemy in the Citadel all for his pride?

One ensured immediate destruction.

Another promised a strong chance of survival.

As they approached the door, the Dark Gods keeping a close formation as to be able to defend one another should the situation arise, though it would be a fruitless act, they watched it swing open, two guards, huge and bulking in figures pushing against the hard metal frame. They struggled, pushing themselves to the limit in order to open the door, revealing just how thick the metal was, the mystical aura surrounding it giving testament to other protections upon it.

Whoever the Majestor was, he had an understanding of how to showcase power in ornate ways. He was certainly not a man willing to hide his power behind a weak facade, he wanted everyone to know he was powerful.

That did make Perrikus feel a little more at ease. Beings like that were simple and did not deal in subterfuge or backstabbing, preferring instead to kill you face-to-face. At least Perrikus knew that if he was going to be killed, it wasn't going to be from behind.

A small comfort at the very least, though it did little to ease his nerves.

In fact, his nerves grew even stronger as the power rushed out from the room like a wind that had been trapped. The combination of mystical and cosmic energy almost suffocated him like poison gas, it was a palpable and tangible wave of white, purple, black and dark blue wind. Such a thing was a rare occurrence, a revelation of just how powerful the beings inside truly were, their auras manifesting even to those weaker than them, such as himself.

The figures around the room responsible for it were different in appearance, size and shape, none sharing much in the way of similarity besides the odd colour here or there. A unique ensemble of figures that would have probably never been gathered together had it not been for the man seated upon the throne at the base of the towering spire of metal that took the form of a tree. Brilliant red jewels emitting a deep well of mystical energy sprouted from it like flowers or fruits, glittering in the light in a truly magnificent display.

If it wasn't for the way his throne seemed to be carved out of the tree at its middle, a few low-hanging branches and fruits dangling down in front of him, the great mass of stairs that led up to him, he would almost be unnoticeable. He would have been eclipsed by the beauty and majesty of the room, the powerful energies swirling within like a cauldron.

But there was no overlooking him once he was seen, nor when he looked upon you. The man, the Majestor exuded no energy or aura of power, if it was not for the fact he was seated before him, Perrikus would question if he even existed. But he did, and the moment he looked upon him, their eyes locking, suddenly everything around Perrikus vanished.

He was surrounded by a mass of dark shadows, the figures and powers they exuded all disappearing as if they were never there to begin with. The brilliant metal tree and red jewels were gone just like everything else. Perrikus was alone, forced to his knees by a crushing force as the Majestor looked upon him with amusement.

"So," a simple word, that's all it was.

But once that word was spoken, like a spell had been broken, the darkness disappeared as did the crushing force. Perrikus, awakened back in the room, upon his knees and breathing heavily, eyes wide and that same feeling of fear he felt when watching the draconian figure destroy the Olympians engulfed him once more. No, it was far worse this time, he, unable to stop the shaking of his body nor the cold sweat that had formed upon his brow.

The Dark Gods behind him had faired no better, each rendered helpless at a simple look.

The power that took, Perrikus could not describe it in words. It was beyond anything he had encountered before, greater than even the All-Father and the Skyfather.

Perhaps stronger than them both combined.

Perrikus did not know, his thoughts a jumbled mess of emotions and words that made little sense to him. The only thing that was clear was that Perrikus dare not cross this man, dare not incur his wrath, dare not even look upon him.

"You may stand, Perrikus, son of Zelia, Majeston of the Dark Gods." The Majestor spoke. "You are surrounded by friends, not foes here. The Citadel has heard of your plight and we have come to offer our aid in defending your great Empire. The Olympians, the Kree, the Skrulls, they are not worthy of this territory."

Slowly, Perrikus' eyes rose to once again look upon the figure known as the Majestor.

He was the smallest of those gathered, no larger than an Asgardian or Olympian in size. But his frame was bulky and muscular like that of Hercules, yet his skin was smooth and unblemished, free of scars and marks. Short blonde hair, that seemed to spike up naturally, revealing the bright blue eyes that looked out upon the world, shining with untold power.

He wore armour that looked Asgardian in design, a short, red robe cast over one shoulder, and covering only one side of his body. Golden bands adorned his wrists, hands resting idly upon the arms of his throne.

"I-I, thank you for your aid, Majestor." Perrikus replied, but he did not get to his feet, afraid that if he did, he would be unable to hide the shaking of his body, the weakness of his knees. "And for the man who came upon your orders, he did not share his name, but he defeated the Olympians and dealt a humiliating blow to their campaign."

The Majestor gave a booming laugh. "A humiliating defeat, one that shall follow them for the remainder of their existence." He then frowned, looking to the draconian figure who lounged against the wall without a care in the world, yawning loudly. "Though, Makor did move without my permission as he often does. I suppose in the end though, it worked out for the best."

Perrikus said nothing in response, just pocketing that little tidbit for future reference. The figure, Makor seemed to be an untamed beast, a wild animal that the Majestor simply directed at his enemies and let off the leash.

"But, enough of that, let us get to business." The Majestor clapped his hands together, a deafening sound. But from it came a surge of energy, and Perrikus saw that the stars outside had changed.

Yet most importantly was the fleet of ships approaching them. There was a pause, the Majestor allowing them a chance to realise what he had done before the space outside erupted with energy rounds and lasers that smashed into the shields of the Citadel.

"Across from us, stands a majority of the Kree fleet. With their destruction, the Kree Empires' efforts to take your territory as their own will end in failure." The Majestor explained simply. "Stardust, Star-Stalker, Terminus, while Makor has taken the initiative in showcasing the power of the Citadel, finish the job."

As the three departed, Perrikus and the Dark Gods turned to watch. The three headed out into the cold, harsh expanse of space and then the Kree fleet was gone. It erupted into flames and explosions, blinding balls of brilliant white light engulfing many ships. Debris from destroyed ships being launched at others.

It was nothing short of a massacre.

Complete and utter annihilation of one of the universe's most powerful fleets.

Even at full strength, the Dark Gods would have struggled to defeat a fleet of that size. The breadth of technology, the number of ships and the weapons equipped to them. All of it was designed for war and destruction, a Kree speciality.

Yet three beings had, in a matter of seconds, destroyed that fleet. The bodies and debris of the ships floating in the vacuum of space, dead and lifeless.

"Thanks to our help, the Kree will be forced to retreat." The Majestor said. "The Skrulls' will move forwards more cautiously and potentially withdraw without a fight. As for the Olympians, they will come at you in full force, throwing everything they have at you in an attempt to finish you in one final blow. But I can ensure that does not happen."

"And…what do you want in return?" Perrikus asked, knowing full well such aid would not come without a price.

The Majestor smirked. "Fealty." He stated, Perrikus frowning though not daring to voice his thoughts or protests. "The Darks Gods will become part of the Citadel, all of its territory and resource becoming extensions of its will, my will."

"…and if we refuse?" Perrikus already knew the answer, but he needed to hear it all the same, just to be sure.

"We both know the answer to that." The Majestor replied. "You have no option. Either you accept my offer and live. Or you die. There is no escape for you nor the Dark Gods should you refuse. Whether that be at my hands or the Olympians, your fate is sealed and only I can guide you on the path to a different one."

In the end, just like he thought, it came down to a matter of the Dark Gods' survival or his pride? Ultimately though, Perrikus desired survival above all else. At least by surviving for a bit longer, he could wait for an opportunity to break free.

He hoped.