Throne

When the battered Symak entered the Main Control Room under his subordinates' protection, the first thing he saw was a figure seated atop a pile of corpses.

Black-and-yellow heavy armor covered the figure from head to toe, while a single scarlet eye swept over everyone present.

His throne had been built from bones and bodies. Nearly a hundred Inhumans, some familiar and some strangers, had died in all manner of gruesome ways before being piled together.

And Deathstroke sat at the very top of the heap, looking quite comfortable.

"Elder Symak? I've been waiting for you. Have a seat."

His deep voice rang out, echoing through the deathly silent hall. Though the room was brightly lit, it carried a startling chill, and a terrifying pressure emanated from above the mound of corpses.

Symak looked at the others in the hall. These elders who had once been so familiar to him no longer possessed their former vigor during council debates. Every one of them looked ashen-faced and vacant.

In one corner of the hall, Symak spotted his wife and child. A woman in a black-and-green dress was stroking his wife's hair and whispering something to her.

He wanted to speak to his wife, but the woman merely raised her head and glanced at him. A bone-deep chill froze him in place. So she was the source of that psychic cold.

Attilan had not experienced war in a million years. The dreadful atmosphere, like that of a battlefield, seemed to awaken the fear lurking within his genes.

Su Ming gave Hela a slight nod, then bent forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked down from above.

"Now then, I hereby announce that the first Attilan Representative Assembly is officially in session."

"..."

The hall fell into deathly silence as