Inside the ship, Jojani sat in the med-bay, watching over the raccoon who had been unconscious for a full week. Groot was completely exhausted, fast asleep in a flowerpot in the corner, his body dotted with tiny blossoms that bloomed and withered in turns, leaving the floor strewn with dry, dead petals.
Jojani stared at the raccoon. Most of the fur on his body had been shaved down to a short stubble, exposing brownish skin covered in surgical scars and mechanical ports. The Xandarian girl reached out with a mix of pity and curiosity, gently touching Rocket's small body, thin as a puppy's.
Her thoughts drifted to Kagaton. If she had taken the prize money from that mechanics tournament, added a loan on top of it, and paid for her father's internal circulatory reconstruction surgery, would Kagaton have come off the operating table covered in scars too?
Jojani realized her father's illness had vanished for no reason other than luck, because the two of them had happened to meet a group of astonishing aliens. To ordinary people, the abilities of an offworld mage were no different from the power of a god.
In this universe of countless trillions of living beings, there were always far more who suffered than those who were spared.
Rocket's creator was a cruel, compassionless madman.
"Mr. Rocket, please wake up soon," Jojani murmured softly. "Everyone wants to see you healthy again."
In downtown New York on Counter-Earth, Skyl casually swung the Infinity Scepter, beating his once-invincible opponent so badly that the man could not fight back at all.
The High Evolutionary possessed terrifying technology, and his modified body gave him telekinetic power strong enough to topple skyscrapers with ease. But years ago, he had been nothing more than flesh and blood. When 89P13 tried to escape, the High Evolutionary had stood in the way with a pistol in hand, blocking the little monster's road to freedom and threatening to send the raccoon back to his cage to face the fate of having his skull opened and his brain cut out.
Back then, he had shot 89Q12 dead, a cybernetically enhanced otter. He had assumed death would frighten 89P13 into submission, but instead it had only awakened the experiment's ferocity. His face had been shredded by the raccoon's claws.
The High Evolutionary had deliberately kept the severe damage to his face, like a mark of shame he would never allow himself to forget. From that day on, he had thrown himself into increasing his personal combat ability. He abandoned the frailty of a mere scientist, but kept every bit of his madness, then pushed it further and further. By now, his strength was enough to rival the mighty gods of Asgard. Even against the greatest fighters in the cosmos, he believed he could match them blow for blow.
But the greatest fighters in the cosmos clearly did not include the wizard standing before him. This wizard's combat ability was absurdly beyond reason.
His tsunami-like telekinesis could cause earthquakes, yet now it could barely do more than protect his body from being smashed apart by one impact after another. The skin-mask on his face had started peeling loose from the constant vibration and friction, exposing the bloody flesh beneath.
The High Evolutionary lay sprawled on the ground, half the mask hanging from his face like a boot with the sole coming off. His beast-man soldiers had already been torn to pieces, and a massive pig's head rolled down Eighth Avenue. The drones, attack craft, and modified lifeforms in the sky were pouring down saturation fire, but the wizard's companions had intercepted the whole assault.
The World-Devouring Serpent hunted fighter craft overhead like an arcade game of Snake gobbling pellets. Standing atop the serpent's head, the daughter of Galactus fired blue cosmic beams from her palm, effortlessly punching through the flying squid-like bioforms one after another. On the street below, the flood of beast-men soldiers was held back by a purple-skinned elven woman armed with a silver bow. Her arrows fell like a storm, and everyone they struck went down.
"Wait!" the High Evolutionary cried, raising a hand from the ground in surrender.
"Don't tell me you're about to say you'll buy me dinner," Skyl said with a laugh when he saw that posture. "Come on, man, I'm already done beating you. Do you know why I came here to wreck your day?"
"I don't know!" The High Evolutionary sounded close to tears. Even a paranoid lunatic bordering on insanity could still feel fear when faced with another unreasonable madman who beat people first and talked later. In his eyes, Skyl and the crew of the Planeswalker were basically a gang of raiders. They had barged into his home out of nowhere and beaten him half to death for reasons he did not understand.
Skyl conjured a folding stool for himself and sat beside the dying High Evolutionary. The first time they had met, the High Evolutionary had been standing while Skyl sat on a couch. Now the High Evolutionary was the one sprawled on the ground while Skyl sat on a stool. This arrangement felt much more comfortable.
"89P13. Does that number mean anything to you?"
The High Evolutionary's dangling flesh-mask trembled like a sheet of paper fluttering in the wind. "I remember. Of course I remember! What is he to you?"
"A stranger I happened to meet," Skyl said. "But I pity him."
The High Evolutionary tore the mask off. His face, covered in claw marks, was still bleeding nonstop, the wounds deep as a rotted tree trunk.
"Look what he did to me!" the mutilated creator screamed. "Shouldn't you pity me instead?"
"I do pity you," Skyl said. "Not because your experiment mutilated you, but because your obsession is so stupid."
He looked around. This New York on Counter-Earth was just as disaster-prone as the real thing. Beast-men were fleeing in all directions, and plenty of lowlifes had already started looting in the chaos.
"Why did you create a planet so similar to Earth? Why make all these intelligent beast-men?"
Even in unbearable pain, the High Evolutionary still straightened proudly. "Because I want to create a perfect world. This world was modeled on Earth. I studied that planet years ago. Its species achieved artistic greatness on a level nearly unmatched in the cosmos. Their only flaw is that these apes are cruel and far too warlike. So I will help them overcome that flaw and become peaceful and kind. Then I can create a beautiful society."
Skyl shook his head. "From what I've seen, your creations are not that beautiful. I still see thugs running wild, garbage piled in the streets, graffiti covering the walls."
"That is exactly why they still aren't perfect!" the High Evolutionary said dreamily. "And I am already very close. Once I obtain 89P13's brain and uncover the secret hidden inside it, I will be able to create a perfect species, gentle, intelligent, enduring, and full of creativity. A true utopia can only be built by citizens like that."
"And what will you do with the creations that aren't perfect enough?"
"Destroy them. Start over." The High Evolutionary answered without hesitation. He pushed himself up from the floor and sat upright, solemn as some skull-faced martyr. "For the sake of great evolution, it is worth it."
"You know, I actually understand your cruelty," Skyl said pleasantly, as if chatting with an old acquaintance. "My hands, too, have been stained more than once with the blood of experimental life. In my pursuit of the true meaning of magic, there have been times when I had to create living beings in order to study the mysteries of life and soul, then destroy them. Not long ago, I accidentally created an entire civilization. They ignored my warning and attacked me, so I personally wiped them out."
The High Evolutionary's eyes lit up. "Then you and I are the same!"
"No." Skyl crushed that fantasy at once. "I do not torment my experiments. I end their lives before they ever gain intelligence. And it is not that I cannot tolerate being attacked by my creations. The civilization I made was simply too powerful. Without my restraint, it would have destroyed the universe in half an hour and reduced all matter to light."
"So you're trying to prove you're kinder than I am?" the High Evolutionary sneered bitterly. "Hypocrite."
"I have never denied my own hypocrisy," Skyl said, taking the flesh-mask from the High Evolutionary's hand. With the lightest touch of a finger, he transformed it into a pure gold mask. "But that doesn't stop me from looking down on you."
The High Evolutionary ground his teeth. "How I deal with my experiments is my business! They are my property! Whatever I do to them is a blessing!"
"That," Skyl said, "is why I have never liked a coldhearted god."
Holding the golden mask, he placed it over his own face. The features of the High Evolutionary slowly twisted, reshaping themselves into Skyl's likeness.
"What are you doing?" The disfigured creator stared at the sight before him and felt a chill rise from the marrow of his bones.
"I am taking your face from you," Skyl said calmly, his voice warm and level behind the mask. "Taking your name. Taking your past."
In that moment, beneath the cold metal, he seemed like the leper king of Jerusalem, radiating an authority that allowed no defiance.
Both the Time Stone and the Reality Stone in the Infinity Scepter blazed with brilliant light.
The High Evolutionary's body gradually turned transparent. His life began flashing before his eyes, starting from the moment of his first cry at birth. Childhood, adolescence, youth, every memory played itself out with perfect clarity across his vision, and as each moment passed, it disappeared forever, like film stock being burned away. His body, too, faded closer and closer to the color of a ghost.
"What did you do to me?" the mutilated creator asked in the dull, sluggish tone of a man losing his mind, his eyes overflowing with terror.
"Across all time, I am the true High Evolutionary!" Skyl brought down the Infinity Scepter and seized that entire life without appeal.
The Book of Mora burst open with a thunderous roar. The Grand Symphony began to play, and another timeline started to unfold.
This time, the one who bore the name of the High Evolutionary would be Skyl, and he would personally rewrite the past.
//Check out my P@tre0n for 30 extra chapters on all my fanfics //[email protected]/Razeil0810