A few seconds later, a tall, powerfully built figure walked in wearing a red-and-blue bodysuit. A long red cape floated behind him as he strode forward with purpose, and the muscles beneath his uniform bulged as though they might tear it apart.
When Su Ming read comics in his previous life, he had always suspected that Gladiator was not a pureblooded Shi'ar. Ordinary Shi'ar had white skin, but his was purplish-blue. His mohawk was not as glossy as those of the other birdmen, either; it looked more like the bristles on a wild boar's back, all prickly and rough.
His origins were not good, either. No one knew who his parents were, and he had been trafficked. From childhood, he had fought for his life in the gladiatorial arenas on Featherfall. After fighting his way to the Champion position, he was selected as captain of the Imperial Guard. He was truly an inspirational example.
Wasn't it perfectly normal for the birdmen to have cockfighting arenas on their capital planet?
But unlike most arena champions, Kallark did not rely too heavily on brute force. He was a highly cultivated man, capable of handling diplomacy and etiquette at the level of an interstellar ambassador.
Of course, those were merely outward qualities. At first sight, Su Ming could also sense the overflowing confidence within him.
When someone was confident, they walked as if the wind followed them, held their head high, and had bright eyes. They carried the air of a winner in life. This alien was no different.
"Master Deathstroke, Sorcerer Supreme, who has come from afar, I bring you greetings on behalf of Lilandra, regent princess of the Shi'ar Empire. Please stay your weapons. I fear there has been some misunderstanding between our two civilizations."
The purple-skinned brute at the hatch