Most of the day passed with Angela sitting rigidly in place, like a statue… unresponsive.
Had the shock finally broken her?
Amenadiel stepped closer and studied her face.
"Angela."
No response.
"Angela."
Still nothing.
"Angela."
Only on the third call did her eyes finally move. She looked up at him, her voice uncertain.
"…The thing about me being Odin's daughter was that a joke? Something you said to amuse me?"
"I was telling the truth." Amenadiel shook his head without hesitation, shattering her last fragile hope.
The strength seemed to drain from Angela's body all at once.
Her legs gave out, and she collapsed forward. Amenadiel reacted instantly, catching her before she hit the floor.
"Angela." He said firmly, "You must be strong."
Strong.
For more than a thousand years, she had believed herself to be an angel of the exiled Ten Realms, born into hardship, raised on resentment, taught that Odin was an evil god who had to be slain so the Ten Realms could return to the World Tree's embrace.
And now…
The belief that had sustained her for over a millennium collapsed in a single moment.
Fortunately or perhaps unfortunately, Angela carried Odin's blood.
Her heart was stronger than most. After roughly ten minutes of suffocating silence, she suddenly howled.
"Why did I kiss that orange cat?! What is wrong with me?!"
The thought hit her all at once.
That orange cat was clearly adopted. She was over a thousand years old, while he wasn't even fully grown yet.
And judging by her appearance, this dangerously attractive figure anyone would assume she was in her mid-thirties at most.
Realizing this, Angela's mood improved dramatically.
"As long as I don't have to call that vile orange cat 'brother,' I can accept everything else."
Amenadiel, who had nearly torn his wings in shock at her sudden outburst, needed a long moment to recover.
"Angela." He said carefully, "There's no need to force yourself. If you cannot accept this yet, you can stay here and rest for a few years."
"Whether or not you acknowledge your heritage, Heaven will always be your home."
"Thank you, big brother," Angela replied sincerely. "You're kind. Even if you're dark-skinned and ugly."
Amenadiel froze.
For the first time in centuries, the Archangel of Justice had no idea how to respond.
An awkward silence followed, until Angela spoke again.
"By the way, brother, what were you doing just now? I thought you already knew I sneaked into the Asgardian palace."
"I went to see the All-Father," Amenadiel answered. "I informed Odin of your existence so you wouldn't cause further misunderstandings."
"He already knows who you are."
He paused, then asked, "Would you like to speak with him?"
Speak with him.
Originally, Angela wanted to agree.
But when she remembered her thousand-year-long goal, her carefully cultivated hatred, it became difficult to shift her mindset so quickly.
Aware that she was in no condition to face him, she shook her head.
"Not yet. This is too sudden. I need time to digest it."
Amenadiel nodded. "Very well. I will inform the God King and the Queen so they can prepare."
"Mm."
Amenadiel left quietly.
Angela remained seated, staring out at the magnificent view of Asgard beyond the window.
Her heart felt like a pot of soup filled with countless unknown ingredients, boiling together into something strange and indescribable.
From this moment on, she was the Princess of Asgard.
Her father was the assassination target she had pursued for over a thousand years.
Her brother was a thunder god who wielded a hammer.
Loki… well, whether he was truly her brother was still questionable.
And that orange cat…
That orange cat definitely needed a proper lesson in what it meant to be disciplined.
✦••┈┈••✦••┈┈••✦
"Ah~choo!"
Garfield suddenly sneezed.
"Damn it… could it be that the rent-dodging Godzilla back home is causing trouble again? The town probably can't hold anymore and is starting to miss me."
The matter of acknowledging Angela's parentage was essentially settled.
Once her situation was handled, Garfield planned to return immediately.
Otherwise, if that Godzilla decided to bring Shōkyū, who thrived on chaos, and Midnight, who simply didn't care, things would spiral completely out of control.
At that point, flattening half the planet would be considered a minor incident.
Just imagining the consequences made Garfield shiver.
He decided that speaking to Odin about returning home needed to happen as soon as possible.
With that in mind, Garfield picked up his pace, strutting forward with an unmistakable feline swagger.
Halfway down the corridor, he spotted Fran and Angie searching around, clearly out looking for a missing cat.
Taking advantage of the instant before they noticed him, Garfield activated his racial talent.
His figure blurred, and he silently slipped into a corner, perfectly concealed by feline invisibility.
The two long-legged beauties passed by without noticing a thing.
A moment later, half of an orange cat's head cautiously peeked out from behind a stone pillar.
Watching the two elves disappear down the corridor, Garfield sighed deeply.
"In my previous life, being chased by two elf girls like that would've been a dream. I'd have pounced without hesitation."
He withdrew his head and shook it sadly.
"But now? I have to hide. It's not that I don't want to… my strength simply doesn't allow it."
His gaze dropped instinctively. "…Sometimes, even a dog or a horse can do more than a cat."
More importantly, the Devouring Beast race didn't even require mates to reproduce.
They self-replicated, each individual essentially a clone. No spouses, no partners. Different memories, identical DNA.
"Self-replication." Garfield muttered. "What kind of cursed design is that?"
Shaking off his existential crisis for the time being, Garfield finally arrived at the door to Odin's study.
Two Asgardian guards stood watch.
They were clearly different from ordinary soldiers. Their armor was thicker, their auras heavier, and their presence alone carried the weight of countless battles.
These were Odin's personal guards… veterans forged through millennia of war.
Their lineage traced back to those who had fought Malekith, the fanatical Dark Elf leader who once sought to drag the universe back into eternal darkness.
Each carried faint blessings from past God Kings and traces of divine power.
With sufficient fortune and opportunity, any one of them could ascend to the rank of general or even higher.
Garfield couldn't help but sigh. "Movies really lie too much."
In the comics, individual combat strength had been drastically watered down.
Drax, who could once rip apart a purple sweet-potato-shaped tyrant, had been reduced to comic relief.
As for Star-Lord, originally an alien prince destined for kingship, he'd somehow turned into a singing, dancing idiot whose sole purpose was entertaining audiences and providing material for video compilations.
"Wait." Then a horrifying thought struck him.
"Didn't I do a full-dimensional livestream toward Earth a while back?"
A cold shiver ran down his spine.
"Could it be… that I've already been turned into meme material by those omnipotent video editors?"
Images flooded his mind, his face pasted next to world leaders, prime ministers, celebrities, and people he dared not name.
Garfield trembled violently.
"No more livestreams. Ever. This path leads only to ruin."
Then he paused. "…Actually, something already happened. Death has expanded its territory."
He clasped his paws together solemnly.
"May the gods forgive this innocent, weak orange cat for all those beaten senseless by Death."
With his thoughts in complete disarray, Garfield pushed open the door to Odin's study.
He raised his head, ready to speak~
~At that exact moment, Amenadiel burst in from the other side.
꧁𓊈𒆜༺⚜༻𒆜𓊉꧂
PhantomDream