For 50 + advance chapter: patreon.com/Snowing_Melody
Xandar. Alpha-Level VIP Landing Plaza.
The ramp of the golden Asgardian skiff touched the polished permacrete with a soft hiss.
A high-ranking Nova Centurion stepped forward, his posture rigid and his uniform immaculate. He snapped his right fist over his chest, performing a flawless, standard Nova Corps salute.
"Honorable Asgardian messenger," he announced in a loud, deeply respectful voice that echoed across the plaza. "I am General Roman of the Nova Corps. By order of Nova Prime, I am here to formally welcome you. Welcome to Xandar."
Hermione descended the ramp, her dark robes billowing slightly in the gentle planetary breeze. She nodded gracefully, just about to deliver a polite, rehearsed diplomatic greeting.
Just then, General Roman's sharp gaze drifted past Hermione's shoulder. It landed squarely on the blue-skinned, mechanical-finned man slouching down the ramp behind her.
Roman paused mid-breath. He blinked, seemingly trying to make sense of the ragged, burgundy-coated figure intruding on a royal diplomatic delegation.
The next second, recognition hit him like a physical blow. His eyes widened to the size of saucers.
"Yondu Udonta?!"
General Roman's voice suddenly cracked, losing all its diplomatic polish. "You infamous Ravager scum! How dare you set foot on the capital of Xandar?!"
He didn't hesitate. Roman waved his hand aggressively, shouting sharply, "Guards! Arrest him!"
Upon hearing the command, the squad of Nova soldiers standing in rigid formation instantly broke rank. They raised their glowing, yellow-barreled energy rifles, aiming them directly at Yondu's chest.
As one of the most notorious pirate captains in the Andromeda galaxy, Yondu's scarred face and glowing red eyes were known in almost every civilized sector. He had a rap sheet longer than the Eclector itself. He was basically shoot-on-sight anywhere that possessed a legitimate legal system.
General Roman had never, in his wildest nightmares, dreamed that he would run into a Sector 4 wanted criminal while welcoming a distinguished foreign dignitary!
Just as two fully armored, overeager rookie soldiers charged forward with stun-batons raised to tackle the pirate, Yondu sneered.
He couldn't afford to mess with the terrifying Witch standing in front of him, but did a few ordinary beat cops really dare to gesticulate at him? Did they think Yondu the Ravager was made of clay?
Yondu parted his coat and let out a sharp, piercing whistle.
Call out—
The deadly Yaka arrow flew from his belt, hovering silently just above his shoulder. Its glowing red tip pointed menacingly toward the charging guards.
Almost simultaneously, the rest of the Nova soldiers reacted, their energy weapons whining as they powered up, locking onto Yondu with a dozen dark gun barrels.
The atmosphere instantly shattered. The diplomatic welcome had turned into a Mexican standoff.
However, before General Roman could bark the order to fire, and before Yondu's arrow could streak through a dozen ribcages...
Hermione, standing quietly to the side, simply sighed. She raised her left hand and waved it lightly at the two soldiers who were rushing up the ramp.
BANG! BANG!
With two heavy, muffled thuds, the two charging soldiers were violently thrown backward. It was as if they had collided with a speeding invisible truck. They flew dozens of meters across the plaza, skidding across the polished permacrete.
Though their armor absorbed the impact and they weren't severely injured, the sheer kinetic force left them groaning, temporarily paralyzed on the ground.
General Roman gasped. He suddenly "realized" what was happening. His gaze shifted from the hovering red arrow to Hermione, and he quickly raised his hand, signaling his remaining, restless subordinates to hold their fire.
"Your Excellency!" Roman stepped forward, looking at Hermione with profound, heroic concern. "Have you been taken hostage by this Ravager?! Please rest assured, remain calm! We will ensure your safety!"
Upon hearing this, Yondu, who was standing right behind Hermione, nearly ground his back teeth into fine powder.
Damn it, Yondu screamed internally. Do you even have eyes, you idiot?! Look at who just threw two of your men fifty feet without touching them! Who the hell is holding whom hostage?!
Hermione lowered her hand. She glanced back at Yondu, a dark, amused half-smile playing on her lips. "Looks like you're quite famous in these parts."
Yondu instantly dropped his tough-guy facade. He forced a sickeningly fawning smile, bowing so deeply he almost folded in half. "Not at all, not at all, Boss! Compared to you, what is my little bit of petty infamy?"
General Roman was completely dumbfounded. He stood with his hand raised, watching the wanted criminal and the "hostage" chatting as if they were discussing the weather.
What's going on?
"It's alright, General," Hermione said, turning her attention back to Roman. She dusted off her sleeves. "Moore is not holding me hostage. He is currently my prisoner."
"Mohr?" Roman was taken aback. He looked at the datapad on his wrist. "Our scanners identify him as Yondu Udonta."
Hermione pointed a thumb at Yondu. "That's him. I changed his name. It's easier to remember."
"..."
General Roman's expression became even more confused and wildly concerned.
He looked at Hermione, his tone resolute and filled with protective duty. "Your Excellency, he must have coerced you into saying this! Did he plant a thermal detonator on your ship? Don't be afraid! This is Xandar! The Nova Corps will never let an Asgardian dignitary get hurt! We will definitely rescue you from this villain!"
In Roman's rigid military view, the infamous, bloodthirsty Yondu Udonta must have used some insidious pirate trick to control the young, delicate envoy, forcing her to cooperate in this bizarre act.
Hermione rolled her eyes in profound exasperation. Why is everyone in space so melodramatic?
Yondu, however, was an incredibly perceptive man with a fierce desire to continue living. Before Hermione could lose her temper, he took matters into his own hands.
With a loud thud, Yondu dropped entirely to one knee on the tarmac. He clasped his hands together in a deep, subservient salute, and shouted loudly enough for the entire Nova plaza to hear:
"Thank you for bestowing this name upon me, Your Excellency! I am your humble servant, Moore!"
Hermione nodded in satisfaction. "Put your little toy arrow away, Moore. It's rude."
"Yes, Sir!" Yondu replied without a microsecond of hesitation. With a slight change in pitch to his whistle, the suspended, deadly Yaka arrow obediently zipped back into its holster at his waist.
Now, not only General Roman, but the entire squad of Nova soldiers were completely dumbfounded. Their weapons wavered.
Roman's jaw actually dropped. He stared in absolute disbelief at the scene before him.
Could it be... that what the messenger said is actually true?
Yondu Udonta, the ruthless Ravager captain who roamed the stars looting and pillaging, was truly her captive? Playing the role of an obedient lapdog?
Even if the Asgardians were known to be incredibly skilled warriors, this envoy was just a petite girl! She looked like a stiff wind could blow her over. How could she possibly subdue a monster like Yondu?
Hermione sighed heavily as she looked at the deeply skeptical, horrified expressions on the soldiers' faces. It was time for a demonstration.
She gently raised her right hand, her fingers curling slightly.
Call—!
The air above the plaza ignited. Dozens of ferocious, writhing fire dragons—pure, concentrated Fiendfyre—appeared completely out of nowhere. They hovered in the sky above the landing pad, radiating a terrifying, unnatural temperature.
The air distorted with heat haze. A scorching, suffocating wave of heat rushed outward, causing General Roman and his entire squad to instinctively stumble several steps backward, throwing their arms up to shield their faces.
"Magic!"
General Roman's eyes widened, and he gasped in sheer, primal surprise.
He finally believed it.
The Asgardians were indeed known throughout the cosmos for their mastery of magic and divine power... though, as a man of science and blasters, Roman had never actually seen it with his own two eyes.
General Roman quickly composed himself, wiping the sudden sweat from his brow. He bowed again, his attitude now ten times more respectful and laced with a healthy dose of fear.
"I... I see! I was terribly rude, Your Excellency! Since Yong—I mean, Moore—is your prisoner, he is naturally yours to deal with under diplomatic immunity. Please, come with me. Nova Prime is already waiting for you."
It was no wonder he was so surprised. In the wider universe, most major powers relied either on advanced technology (like the Kree and Nova) or on genetic, superhuman physical abilities. Beings who truly mastered raw, reality-bending magical power were exceptionally rare. Each one was a walking weapon of mass destruction that forced major empires to rewrite their defense protocols.
The group hastily reformed and headed toward the glittering, geometric glass towers of the VIP reception sector.
On the way through the immaculate, sunlit corridors, General Roman could no longer contain his burning curiosity. He lagged behind by half a step, sidled up to Yondu, and asked in a very low, tense whisper, "Uh... Udonta. Who exactly is she?"
Yondu leaned in, keeping his voice equally low. He quickly uttered a few hushed sentences about Sector 52, a dead Chitauri armada, and the annihilation of an invasion force.
General Roman stopped abruptly in the middle of the hallway, his boots squeaking on the polished floor. He gasped, his face draining of color. "Gan..."
It was THAT legendary evil god?!
No wonder she possessed such terrifying, casual magic. No wonder a ruthless, hardened bandit like Yondu had completely submitted.
Soon, the group arrived at an elegantly decorated, high-altitude VIP room overlooking the utopian city of Xandar.
General Roman personally led the way, pulling out a plush chair for Hermione. His attitude bordered on worshipful terror.
"Please have a seat, Your Excellency," Roman said, bowing low. "Please rest for a moment, Your Excellency Cabbage Witch. Nova Prime will be here shortly."
Puff—!
Hermione, who had just taken a sip of a sweet, effervescent, neon-blue alien drink brought by a robotic waiter, instantly spat it out.
The blue liquid sprayed across the pristine glass table.
She jerked her head up, her dark eyes flashing with sudden, murderous intent. She glared at General Roman like he was a bug waiting to be squashed.
"What the hell did you just call me?!"
General Roman flinched violently, startled by Hermione's explosive reaction. He looked incredibly confused, stammering over his words. "My... my lord? Aren't you the... the 'Cabbage Witch'? The legendary being who single-handedly defeated the Chitauri armada with the giant green vegetables?"
Hermione slammed her glass down. "The Chitauri are indeed my victims! But what the hell is a Cabbage Witch?!"
Yondu, sensing impending doom, quickly leaned over and explained in a frantic, low voice how the cosmic rumor mill had misinterpreted her Venomous Tentacula summons as highly aggressive, man-eating terrestrial cabbages.
Hermione's lips twitched. A vein pulsed visibly in her temple.
If they had given her a powerful, fearsome name like The Flame Witch, The Dark Witch, or even The Void Walker, that would have been fine. Hell, even The Library Witch would be acceptable branding!
But what exactly is the Cabbage Witch? Or the Kale Witch?
Who was the absolute, uneducated idiot who gave me that nickname?! Hermione raged internally. They were Class-A Magical Flora! Not a side dish at a Muggle Sunday roast!
Hermione sat back in her chair, her expression dark as a thundercloud. A tense, oppressive magical aura radiated from her, making the air in the room feel heavy and suffocating.
Yondu and General Roman exchanged a terrified glance. They stood perfectly still against the wall, utterly unsure of what to say. It seemed the intergalactic hero was quite dissatisfied with her title.
Time passed in agonizing silence.
Suddenly, the hydraulic doors of the VIP room slid open with a soft chime.
A middle-aged woman dressed in luxurious, structured gold-and-maroon robes walked in. She possessed an incredibly elegant demeanor, a sharp gaze, and meticulously combed silver hair. The air of absolute authority surrounded her.
Her gaze swept the room, noting the terrified General and the sweating pirate, before finally settling on the brooding teenager at the table.
She offered a warm, diplomatic smile and took the initiative to greet her:
"Greetings, Your Excellency. I am Irani Rael. Nova Prime."