Venom might not have had much backbone, but when it came to getting things done, it delivered.
Under its guidance, Krypton's forces reached the Sagittarius system without delay. What they found there was exactly as Venom had promised—a planet already overrun.
The symbiotes had devoured it.
Nearly all life on the surface had been consumed. Entire ecosystems reduced to silence. Only a handful of native survivors remained, scattered and desperate, clinging to whatever scraps of existence they could salvage.
It wasn't hard to understand why Riot had abandoned the place.
There was nothing left to eat.
But Venom had a different mindset.
Instead of discarding the planet, it treated it like a resource field. A breeding ground. With ruthless efficiency, it hunted down its own kind, capturing them one by one.
By the time the operation ended, two hundred symbiotes had been secured and transported back to Neptune.
The moment they arrived, Ethan acted.
Except for Venom, every captured symbiote was subjected to complete mental cleansing. Under the crushing force of his psychic power, their consciousness was erased without resistance, leaving behind only instinctual biological shells.
After multiple rounds of testing and verification, the scientists finalized their selection.
One hundred symbiotes were chosen.
One hundred Kryptonian soldiers were assigned.
Compatibility was perfect.
There was no rejection, no instability. The pairing process proceeded smoothly, the symbiotes bonding seamlessly with their hosts. Once integrated, they responded instantly to commands, functioning exactly as intended.
Thus, the Symbiote Legion was born.
Ethan observed the results with a slight lift of his brow.
"It's time to test them."
The first target—
Xandar.
A planet known for its neutrality and its strict enforcement of peace. Crime was rare, conflict even rarer. It was a place where order was absolute.
Which made it perfect.
No one expected violence there.
Least of all the Kree.
A diplomatic delegation had arrived, intending to repair relations and sign a peace agreement. It was supposed to be a step toward reconciliation after previous conflicts.
Instead—
It became a massacre.
A sharp, black blade erupted from a soldier's arm, slicing cleanly through the Kree ambassador. The strike was instantaneous, precise, and lethal.
Blood sprayed across the ground.
Organs followed.
"Enemy attack!"
The alarm came too late.
Kree guards reacted immediately, weapons raised as laser fire tore through the air. Energy blasts struck their targets—but the result was impossible.
Nothing happened.
The attackers didn't flinch.
The Kree stared in disbelief.
"Impossible…"
The firepower wasn't weak. It should have been more than enough to kill any standard target. Yet these figures stood untouched, their bodies absorbing the attacks as though they were nothing.
Were they all Superman?
That couldn't be true.
They knew what Superman looked like. They had studied him, feared him, memorized every detail. These weren't him. These were different faces, different bodies—
But the same invulnerability.
And there were too many of them.
Before they could process it, the second wave hit.
"Die!"
A soldier's arm liquefied into black tendrils, twisting and reshaping in an instant. The mass expanded, hardened, and formed a grotesque, oversized blade.
It swung.
A single arc.
Nearly ten Kree soldiers were cut apart in one motion, their bodies split cleanly as though they were nothing more than paper.
Screams filled the air.
The attackers didn't use guns.
They didn't need them.
Their bodies became weapons.
Blades. Spears. Tendrils. Wings.
Some launched themselves into the sky, black wings forming from their backs as they dove like predators. Others extended razor-sharp appendages, tearing through defenses with brutal efficiency.
It wasn't a fight.
It was slaughter.
The Kree collapsed under the assault, unable to respond, unable to adapt. Their weapons were useless. Their tactics irrelevant.
"What are these things?!"
Panic spread.
They couldn't kill them.
They couldn't stop them.
And worst of all—
They didn't understand them.
In less than thirty seconds, the embassy was wiped out.
Every Kree present was dead.
"The assassination is complete."
The voice came calmly from one of the symbiote soldiers.
"Disperse. Infiltrate the city. Retreat individually."
Without hesitation, they moved.
The chaos they created provided perfect cover. Within moments, they had vanished into the urban sprawl of Xandar, blending into the population as though they had never been there.
The mission had two objectives.
The first was obvious—test the combat effectiveness of the Symbiote Legion.
The second was more subtle.
Sabotage.
Relations between the Kree Empire and Xandar were already fragile. The incident at the prison had left scars that hadn't fully healed. Now, with a Kree delegation slaughtered on Xandarian soil, those tensions would explode.
Peace was no longer possible.
This was exactly what Ethan wanted.
When Lilith first heard the plan, she could only smile bitterly.
"Your Majesty… you're forcing this outcome."
Faora, on the other hand, approved without hesitation.
"It's necessary."
Ethan didn't deny it.
A faint smile rested on his lips, but there was something colder beneath it now. Something sharper.
His thinking had changed.
To him, the Symbiote Legion wasn't a group of soldiers.
It was a tool.
A blade.
Their numbers didn't need to be large. What mattered was effectiveness. Precision. The ability to strike where it hurt most and disappear before retaliation could begin.
If they failed—
They could be replaced.
Kryptonian soldiers.
Symbiotes.
Both were resources.
Consumable.
The empire had no use for inefficiency.
The next day, the survivors returned.
Inside the palace, the Venom-enhanced soldier collapsed to his knees, his voice trembling with exaggerated emotion.
"Your Majesty… you're ruthless—no, wise! Brilliant! I completed the mission!"
Ethan sat on his throne, looking down calmly.
He didn't respond immediately.
He simply observed.
"Pressure reveals potential," he said at last. "You've always called yourself worthless. A failure among your kind."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"But you survived Xandar."
That wasn't a small feat.
Escaping from a planet under the watch of the Nova Corps was no easy task. Many would have died trying.
Venom hadn't.
The soldier hesitated.
Complaints lingered in his mind, unspoken but present. The mission had been dangerous—suicidal, even. Survival had been nothing short of luck.
But now, looking back—
He realized something.
He had made it.
"Work harder," Ethan continued.
"Earn your place."
Then he delivered the reward.
"You've earned your freedom. You won't be recycled like the others. Continue working with your host."
For a moment, there was silence.
Then—
"Thank you, Your Majesty!"
The figure looked up, his face splitting.
One half revealed Venom's monstrous grin.
The other—
A Kryptonian soldier.
Casper.
Once, he had been crippled, reduced to a broken body after the war. Now, through the symbiote bond, his limbs had been fully restored. Strength returned. Purpose restored.
Two beings.
One existence.
And it worked.
Perfectly.
At least—for now.
Venom, however, remained… Venom.
"Next time, I'll take you somewhere fun," it muttered to Casper, its tone suddenly casual. "Xandar's got some incredible entertainment. We could enjoy it together—double the experience, right?"
Casper didn't respond.
"Hey. Don't ignore me."
....
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