"So what now?" she asked. "Is there any saving this planet?"
"They don’t need saving from so external force. They need to recognize their actual situation and work together to address it. If they stopped fighting long enough to form a unified governnt, pooled their remaining resources, and maybe invent new solutions, there might be hope."
"But that doesn’t solve any of the problems you ntioned."
"No, it doesn’t." Arthur’s tone turned colder, more pragmatic. "Those are problems they created themselves over centuries of exploitation. Neither you nor I caused that, and it’s not our responsibility to fix it."
"That’s cold, even for you."
"Is it? I feel for those suffering civilians, truly. But from what I’ve learned about the Kree—through eting Ronan, going through the surface thoughts of those faction leaders down there—they have no intention of abandoning their expansion plans. The mont they recover enough strength, they’ll return to conquering and enslaving other worlds. Saving them potentially ans dooming hundreds of other civilizations."
"So we just let them destroy themselves?" The frustration in Carol’s voice was palpable.
"You tell . Do we sacrifice one already-dying world so hundreds of others can remain free? Or do we save the Kree and accept the blood on our hands when they inevitably return to their old ways?"
Carol replied, "I don’t like making such choices. Can’t we have a third choice?"
"Unless you want to spend the next century playing galactic police officer, monitoring and stopping every Kree expansion attempt, I don’t see one."
Carol’s fists clenched, energy flickering around them. "I can’t just walk away. Despite everything, I have Kree blood in my veins. And despite what they beca, so of them showed genuine kindness."
"Sentintality will get planets destroyed."
"Then I’ll stop them if they try to expand again. I will pay the galactic police officer if I have to. But I can’t let them annihilate themselves without at least trying sothing."
Arthur studied her determined expression - the fire in her eyes, the stubborn set of her shoulders. Then he sighed.
"Fine. I will help you. But let’s plan this properly. Don’t want to cause more problems than we’re solving."
Hope crept into Carol’s voice. "You have ideas?"
"Several, actually. The simplest would be to forcibly gather all faction leaders in an enclosed space. Lock them in a room with basic necessities and don’t let them out until they reach a consensus."
Carol shook her head imdiately. "The Kree are a warrior culture with generational trauma and terrible emotional regulation. Lock their leaders in a room together and you’ll just get a bloodbath with no witnesses."
"Then we need more observation. Better understanding of the players involved, their motivations, their pressure points." Arthur stood, vanishing the chairs. "No rushed decisions."
"I just wish the fighting would pause while we figure this out."
Arthur tilted his head thoughtfully. "Actually, we might be able to arrange that. What if we gave them sothing else to focus on? A mystery that demands their attention more than killing each other?"
Carol perked up. "What kind of mystery?"
"What do you think would happen if every weapon of mass destruction on the planet simply... disappeared? Every nuclear warhead, every high tech bomb, every biological weapon—just gone without a trace?"
"They’d panic. Bla each other. Maybe bla ."
"Initially, yes. But they’d also have to investigate. And more importantly, without those weapons, the damage they can inflict on each other drops dramatically. Conventional warfare is bloody, but it doesn’t cause much destruction."
Carol began to pace again, but this ti with purpose rather than agitation. "It could work. But can you actually do that? Transport that much material?"
"Rember who you’re talking to." Arthur’s smile was sharp. "I just portaled across a galaxy. Moving so weapons to any remote planet? Child’s play."
"K-42," Carol supplied. "It’s quarantined anyway—no one goes there."
"Perfect." Arthur cracked his knuckles. "Though if that doesn’t work, I could always use more direct thods."
"What kind of direct thods?"
"ntal manipulation. Take control of the faction leaders, make them reach an agreent they think is their own idea."
"Mind control?" Carol’s voice dropped, wary. "Let’s keep that as a last resort. I don’t want us playing gods."
Arthur arched a brow. "As if we aren’t already."
"Controlling them... it feels wrong. Like how the Kree manipulated . They need to choose their own path, not have it chosen for them."
"Fair enough." Arthur nodded slowly. "Then we start with the weapons. Remove the tools of destruction. After that? We watch. We learn. If we find like-minded individuals, we help them rise to positions where they can make a difference."
"That’s our best option," Carol agreed. "When do we start?"
"Now, if you’re ready."
The next six hours tested even Arthur’s considerable magical stamina. Carol flew reconnaissance, using her knowledge of Kree military doctrine to locate weapon stockpiles, hidden silos, and classified research facilities. Once found, she would mark locations for Arthur to target.
Arthur, anwhile, pushed his portal creation to its absolute limits. He opened hundreds of gateways simultaneously, maintaining them while Kree weapons of apocalyptic destruction tumbled through onto K-42’s barren surface.
The confusion started almost imdiately. Military channels erupted with panicked reports of empty silos, missing arsenals, vanished stockpiles. Both factions went to high alert, each assuming the other had developed so new technology, so ultimate weapon that could steal their deterrents.
But without those weapons, neither side could risk a full assault. The standoff that had been maintained by mutual assured destruction shifted to sothing more tentative, more uncertain.
"It’s working," Carol said, monitoring military communications through a terminal she’d quietly borrowed. "They’re pulling back from the front lines, consolidating positions. They’re afraid."
"Good," Arthur replied. "Fear might keep them alive long enough to find wisdom."
They watched for another hour as the new reality settled across Hala. The fighting didn’t stop - skirmishes still erupted along contested borders - but the grand offensives both sides had been planning were suddenly off the table.
"What now?" Carol asked.
"Now we go ho," Arthur said, opening another portal. This one showed a familiar sight—blue sky, green grass, a pristine Louisiana morning.
Carol froze. "I can’t—"
"You can and you will." Arthur’s tone brooked no argunt. "You’ve punished yourself enough. Your best friend. Your niece. They deserve to see you. And you? You deserve to rember there’s still warmth in the universe. The galaxy will keep spinning without Captain Marvel for a few days."
"Arthur—"
"Carol." He t her eyes. "You’ve been carrying the weight of an entire planet’s death on your shoulders for three years. That kind of guilt is poison—it’ll eat you alive from the inside if you let it. Let the people who love you remind you that you’re more than ’the Annihilator.’ More than guilt. More than war."
She stood at the portal’s threshold, trembling. Through it, they could hear birds singing, a sound that hadn’t existed on Hala for years.
"What if... Monica hates ? For not coming back?"
"Then you’ll apologize and make it right. But I think you’ll find she’s been waiting for her Aunt Carol, not judging Captain Marvel."
Carol took a deep breath. Straightened her shoulders. And stepped through.
Arthur followed.
Behind them, the dying world faded into silence.
Ahead—blue sky. Green grass. The sll of flowers and fresh earth.
They erged in Maria Rambeau’s backyard, the Louisiana sun warm on their skin, the world alive around them.
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