The middle-aged man's expression was cold and stern, his light blue eyes that was identical to Soren's, seemed frozen—icy and unyielding.
He stared at the Angemon, lowering his forehead slightly, and spoke each word with chilling clarity: "—Give it to me. Don't make me repeat myself, Soren."
Soren's body grew more rigid by the second.
This was the fear that had been carved into his very bones, a terror he could never escape, no matter how hard he tried.
The shadow that loomed over his entire life.
...The nightmare that has been buried in the deepest part of his soul.
As the man that was created from Loki's illusion, drew closer, Professor X's mental defenses in Soren's mind were quickly breaking down.
Sensing the danger, Professor X shouted desperately, "Soren, no—!!"
But Soren could no longer resist Loki's mental control on him.
With trembling body, he handed the Mother Box to his "father."
The Mother Box that was writhing and pulsating in his hands, was offered up as the man reached out to take it.
—At that very moment.
A golden rope suddenly flew out, wrapping around the Mother Box in a flash, yanking it away before anyone could react!
"Boom!"
The gods hurled down lightning, and dark clouds swirled in the sky.
A tall and strong female war goddess descended from above, like an ancient hammer crashing into the ground.
"Boom!" With a loud explosion, dust flew everywhere, and cracks spread across the concrete runway.
Rising from the smoke, Wonder Woman stood tall, gripping the glowing Lasso of Truth and cradling the Mother Box in her arms.
Beneath her gleaming crown, her fierce and powerful gaze lifted slowly.
"I won't let you have it, false god of Asgard."
She drew the Godkiller Sword from her back, holding it in one hand, with the Mother Box securely under her arm.
The sword's sharp edge pointed directly at Loki who was standing before Soren.
Loki's illusion melted away like waves retreating from the shore, revealing his true appearance.
He growled in anger, "...Amazonian, you filthy half-blood demigod! How dare you disrespect me!"
His golden scepter slammed into the ground, kicking up dust as the enraged god of mischief charged at the Wonder Woman.
The two gods from different realms were now locked in battle, and in their mighty clash, Soren who is mentally broken, was completely lost.
He collapsed to the ground, barely holding himself up with his executioner's staff, trembling and unsteady.
Behind his helmet, his face was blank.
His mind was caught in the crashing waves of memories, pulling him deeper into a fog of forgotten pain.
The sound of shattering echoed as his memories fractured like a broken mirror.
Each fragment reflected the moments he wished to forget.
Inside the throne room of New Earth, a two-year-old prince who are barely able to speak, gathered the courage to climb the throne.
With unsteady steps, he reached out his tiny hand to touch his father's robe, only to have the golden-haired emperor grip his throat.
The man glared down at him with disgust, choking him until he almost lost consciousness, then released him, waiting patiently for the child to breathe again.
...It was as if he saw it all as a game that brought him joy.
As though the fragile child in his hands wasn't his own flesh and blood, but a lifeless toy.
When the young prince finally lost consciousness, unable to recover from the choking, his father simply tossed him aside and said coldly, "Useless."
Violence and coldness from his parents filled his entire childhood.
At three years old, he accidentally broke an antique vase in front of his father.
The emperor used it as an excuse to beat him with a scepter for the entire afternoon.
He stood crying in front of the palace servants, lifting his pant leg to show the bruises and cuts on his little legs.
His skin was torn, blood dripping down onto his white socks, staining them red.
Barely alive, he was carried by the servants to the medical chamber.
But when he emerged, the first words from his distant mother were filled with disappointment and hatred: "Why didn't he beat you to death?"
Even as a small child, he vaguely realized that his very existence was a mistake.
His parents despised him and hated his birth because it forced two people who couldn't stand each other to remain bound in misery for the rest of their lives.
He was a child born into hate.
He never thought he deserved to be loved.
By the time he was thirteen, it seemed he had forgotten how to cry.
They told him that his mother was gravely ill and that he should visit her one last time.
But even on her deathbed, the proud woman looked at him with eyes full of venom, forbidding him from coming near.
He stood there, confused, as he was led away from her chamber, not understanding what he had done wrong.
It all hurt too much—his whole life felt like a painful journey, walking on the edge of a knife.
When he died deep within the wormhole, he felt a strange sense of relief.
He heard his father's voice thundering across the sea of time: "You are too weak, too useless. You are a disgrace to the Galvus family... and a stain on my legacy..."
"I should have killed you with my own hands..."
"You're completely useless... I will never hand the Empire over to you..."
He heard many more voices.
"Look, isn't that the cursed prince?"
"Shh! Be quiet, don't let him hear you... I heard he inherited his mother's disease."
"What? No wonder people tell me to stay away from him..."
Soren walked through the shattered pieces of a silver mirror, the sharp shards cutting into his feet.
Blood poured from his wounds, but all he cared about was holding onto the still-burning heart in his hands.
How badly he wanted someone to take this heart from him.