Chapter 154: Chapter 154: The Annihilator

Carol took another sip of water before setting the bottle aside. The sharp, competitive energy from their sparring had faded, replaced by something heavier.

“So,” Arthur prompted again, conjuring two chairs with a flick of his hand. “What did you actually need to talk about?”

Carol eased into the chair, her expression shifting. “It’s about Fury. He contacted me through Talos—asked me to check in on you.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Check in on me? That’s an interesting way to put it.”

“He wants to know your intentions,” Carol said directly. “For Earth. He’s… concerned.”

“Concerned.” Arthur leaned back. “That’s rich, coming from a man who might be trying to weaponize the Tesseract as we speak. What exactly does he think I’m planning?”

“I don’t know. He just said you’ve been making waves and he wants to understand your motives.”

Arthur let out a short, humorless laugh. “I have no motives or grand plans for Earth. I don’t want to rule or conquer anything. I’m just living my life and handling problems as they come.”

“That’s what I told him.” Carol studied him. “But you know Fury—he likes to be prepared for everything.”

“I do,” Arthur said evenly. “Which is why I’m not surprised. Honestly, I think he’s still holding a grudge from when I chewed him out for using the Skrulls in his spy games under the promise of finding them a home.”

Carol sighed. “That explains the look on his face whenever your name comes up. Anyway, let him run his little spy empire. I’ll find the Skrulls a planet eventually—the universe is vast enough. In the meantime, Fury gives them purpose, and I’d rather he be influential enough to protect Earth than just another mid-level agent.”

“I wasn’t planning to interfere,” Arthur replied. “Just warned him. Nothing more. Oh—did you know he has a Skrull girlfriend now?”

Carol blinked. “What?”

“Maybe not official yet, but there were sparks. I teased him endlessly.”

“Thanks for telling me. Knowing Fury, he would’ve kept that secret forever.”

“No problem.”

Carol smirked faintly. “So, other than threatening Fury and leaking his secrets, what have you been up to?”

Arthur was silent for a moment, then began. “Where do I even start? You remember when that Tesseract overload nearly killed me?”

“Hard to forget. You looked like death warmed over.”

“Felt worse,” Arthur admitted. “The healers managed to patch up the physical damage, but the other injuries…” He flexed his hand, remembering. “I couldn’t use magic for months. My magic was still there, more powerful than ever, really, but my body couldn’t channel it. Like having a river of power with no way to direct it.”

Carol winced. “That must’ve been hell for you.”

“Humbling, more like. With enemies still wishing for my death, I had to find other ways to protect myself. That’s how I ended up at a sanctuary of sorcerers. Let’s keep the place a secret though. I’d rather Fury not get wind of it.”

“I can keep secrets,” Carol said.

“Like you kept my identity secret?”

“That wasn’t my fault. Fury already had your name narrowed down. He just wanted confirmation. I couldn’t fool him.”

“Mm. Anyway, the sorcerers use something called the Mystic Arts. Different from my wizarding magic. That’s where I learned to make portals, among other things.”

Carol tilted her head. “And you learned that quickly? It’s only been, what, three years? You’re already using it in combat.”

“It was slow at first,” Arthur admitted. “But once it clicked, I thrived. Eventually my own magic returned too. The combination made me stronger than before.” His expression darkened. “And once I could fight again, it was time for some revenge.”

Carol straightened. “Revenge?”

“I wasn’t born an orphan,” Arthur said flatly. “My parents were taken from me when I was ten. The men responsible were three lords of the criminal underworld who ordered the hit over a business dispute with my father. When I was strong enough, I killed them. And their lieutenants. Anyone directly involved.”

“Good,” Carol said without hesitation. “They deserved it.”

“Maybe. But their deaths created a power vacuum. Dozens of smaller gangs fought for control. The streets ran red. Innocents caught in the crossfire. I had to step in again, cut down the new leaders before they could consolidate power. The killing didn’t stop until I’d removed anyone ambitious enough to seize the throne.”

Carol stayed quiet, processing.

“That put me on every intelligence agency’s watchlist,” Arthur went on. “After that, I mostly stayed away from vigilante work in the muggle world. I only came out again when a Dark Lord returned in the wizarding world. He tried to conquer it. Killed many. I killed him a few days ago.”

“Busy few years,” Carol murmured.

“That’s not all. I started an investment firm—completely legal, but wildly successful. That’s ruffled some feathers among the financial elite. And people close to me have been systematically dismantling an organization called The Hand.” He shrugged. “Any of those could explain Fury’s paranoia.”

Carol gave a low whistle. “When you say you’ve just been living your life, you mean causing chaos across every corner of society.”

“I prefer to call it addressing problems as they arise.”

“Sure,” she said dryly, though her attempt at levity fell flat. Her gaze turned inward, shadowed.

Arthur noticed immediately. “What about you? Did you destroy the Supreme Intelligence?”

“I did,” she confirmed.

Arthur opened his mouth to congratulate her but froze at the look on her face. No triumph. No satisfaction. Only hollow sadness.

He’d often wondered why Carol never came back to Earth in the years he remembered from the MCU, why Fury had to call her during the Snap. He died before those movies came out. Now, maybe, he was about to hear the truth from her directly.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Arthur offered quickly. “Tell me about the planets you’ve visited instead. Any with purple skies? Talking plants?”

“No, I can talk about it.” Carol drew in a deep breath. “After leaving Earth, I went straight to Hala. The Supreme Intelligence tried to pit the Kree against me, but I defeated them. Then I destroyed it.”

“That’s good news. One less genocidal AI in the galaxy.”

“That’s when everything went wrong.” Her voice dropped. “Without the Supreme Intelligence controlling them, war broke out immediately. Factions fighting for power. A civil war to determine Hala’s next ruler.”

Arthur nodded slowly. “Expected. History’s full of examples—when an emperor falls without a clear successor, chaos follows.”

“This is different,” Carol said, hands clenching. “Hala has weapons of planetary destruction. It wasn’t soldiers with swords or even guns. It was nuclear-level civil war, with both sides using weapons of mass destruction without hesitation.”

Arthur’s expression grew grim. “What’s Hala’s condition now?”

“Dying slowly.” The words came out raw, bleeding. “Resources depleted by constant warfare, atmosphere poisoned by exotic weapons, millions dead and millions more dying every day. My actions started this. I’m destroying an entire world.”

“Carol, that’s not—”

“It is my fault.” She cut him off sharply. “Millions of lives, Arthur. My choice, my actions, my consequences. Do you know what they call me now? What name echoes through the galaxy?”

Arthur remained silent, letting her speak.

“The Annihilator.” She spat the word like poison. “That name has become my legacy. The woman who destroyed Hala. After seeing what I’d caused, experiencing the magnitude of suffering, I decided I didn’t deserve to return to Earth. Didn’t deserve to see the people I care about, to pretend everything was fine.”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous,” Arthur said sharply. “You destroyed a tyrant. The civil war was fueled by their own greed, not you.”

“Easy for you to say. You haven’t seen the destruction, the innocent deaths—”

“My actions also led to innocent deaths, remember? But I’m not living in self-imposed exile, drowning in guilt.”

Carol shook her head. “Not on the same scale. A planet versus some gang violence—”

“Death is death. Scale doesn’t matter to the dead.” Arthur continued before she could argue. “Tell me, how many planets were under Kree control at their height?”

“At their peak? Roughly twenty-five percent of known galactic civilizations.”

“So you freed hundreds of worlds from oppression. The Kree Empire was built on conquest and slavery. What’s happening to Hala is karma, not your fault.”

“Children are dying, Arthur. Civilians who never chose war, who just wanted to live their lives—”

“Would have grown up to continue the cycle of oppression. Look, I’m not saying their deaths aren’t tragic. But you didn’t cause this. The Kree’s own warlike nature and refusal to accept anything but dominance caused this.”

Carol stood abruptly, pacing. “I could have done something different. Reprogrammed the Intelligence, or—”

“Could you? Really? And what if it turned rogue too? Destruction was the only viable option. And unless you were willing to become Hala’s eternal dictator, ruling through fear and force, civil war was always inevitable.”

“Maybe I should have,” Carol muttered.

Arthur actually laughed at that. “You? Ruler of Hala? Sitting on a throne, signing legislation, attending ceremonies? You’d last a week before flying through a wall to escape.”

“I could have delegated—”

“To whom? Kree who’d been indoctrinated their entire lives? They’d either worship you as a goddess or plot your assassination. Probably both.” Arthur stood, meeting her eyes. “You’re not a ruler, Carol. You’re a warrior. A protector. A free spirit. Shackling yourself to a throne would’ve destroyed you.”

“As if you’d be any better at ruling,” she shot back.

“I wouldn’t. Difference is I’ve got magic to keep subordinates in line. You’d have brute strength. That only lasts until someone finds a way around it.”

They stood in silence, the weight of entire worlds pressing between them.

Arthur finally broke it. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Earth. Maria and Monica must miss you.”

Carol shook her head violently, stepping away. “I can’t. Not as the Annihilator. Monica doesn’t need to see what I’ve become—this person who destroys worlds.”

“She doesn’t care about Captain Marvel’s reputation or what the galaxy calls you. She just wants her Aunt Carol back. The woman who made her laugh, who promised to come back.”

“I don’t deserve—”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

Arthur studied her for a moment, reading the stubborn set of her jaw, then changed tactics entirely. “Fine. Then let’s go to Hala.”

Carol blinked, thrown by the sudden shift. “What? Why?”

“To see if there’s anything we can do about the civil war. To actually help rather than just lamenting from afar.”

“I’ve tried everything. There’s no solution that doesn’t involve more death.”

“Maybe fresh eyes will catch something you missed. I can be persuasive when properly motivated.”

Carol hesitated, then stood. “Let me get my ship—”

“No need.” Arthur raised his hand. “Just picture the planet clearly in your mind. Somewhere specific, recent. A location away from the fighting where we won’t immediately be attacked.”

“Why?”

“Trust me. Focus on a place you remember vividly.”

Carol obeyed, and Arthur skimmed her surface thoughts, pulling the image. An abandoned outpost on Hala’s northern continent where she’d stood watching the first bombs fall.

Golden sparks swirled into being, widening into a portal. Beyond it stretched a burning sky and the twisted spires of a dark city.

“After you,” Arthur gestured.

Carol stared at the portal in stunned silence. “This actually leads to Hala? You can portal across galaxies like it’s nothing?”

“You’ll find out soon. Shall we?”

Still processing the impossible feat she’d just witnessed, Carol stepped through the portal to the dying world she’d inadvertently doomed, Arthur following close behind.

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