Su Ming signaled the Pegasus to follow. He'd go solo from here—more flexibility.
Vanaheim felt eerily empty. Partly due to its vast, sparse landscape, but mostly because most residents were taking refuge in Asgard.
He valued this place for its strategic position. Physically, it was the closest planet to Asgard, and its mystical ties in the Nine Realms linked it closely to Earth.
Proximity to Asgard meant it wasn't far from the Nova Empire's capital, Nova Prime, the Collector's Knowhere, or the galaxy's biggest red-light district, Contraxia.
Su Ming planned to set up a branch office here.
Earth's global trade only brought money, but dollars were useless in space. Energy was the universal currency, and Vanaheim and Asgard could provide it.
Their resources and tech were interchangeable. Though Vanaheim looked rural, that was just their rustic lifestyle—its tech far surpassed Earth's.
Asgard, while flashier and seemingly better for business, drew too much attention. Odin and Loki were no pushovers, and Asgard's xenophobia limited mobility.
Gulveig was different. As Vanaheim's immortal ruler, she held absolute sway. With her backing, business would be a breeze.
Fighting for Vanaheim's equality and autonomy was the real goal. Once Vanaheim could self-govern, no one could block Su Ming's foothold in space.
He planned to absorb Asgardian tech and knowledge, fuse it with his adjutant's and Cybertron's advancements, and build a spaceport. From there, a synchronous orbit station for large-scale construction.
Shipbuilding meant going big—small crafts were pointless. Massive warships, to escape planetary gravity, needed zero-G assembly: space-based shipyard tech.
This was a compromise for early space exploration, suited to lower tech levels.
On Thanos' homeworld, Titan, anti-gravity tech was advanced enough to build giant ships on the surface and launch them.
A spaceport would enable trade and shipbuilding while serving as an intel hub. Helping Odin deal with the Serpent would secure the materials for the station and ships.
The Loyal Shrine Academy was a fleet academy. Beyond Natasha and the girls trained as spies, future orphans would bolster cosmic forces.
No parents, absolute loyalty—perfect for space.
An orbital station on Earth would be too conspicuous and invite trouble. Vanaheim, linked to Earth via the World Tree, could use Odin's name as a shield for decades, being part of the Nine Realms.
Even in Ragnarok, only Asgard would fall.
Su Ming already saw Vanaheim as his. The more Gulveig trusted him, the greater his influence and privileges here.
He wasn't a demon—this wasn't exploitative. He'd bring Earth goods to the Vanir: spicy snacks, hot pot, stockings, cosmetics.
Both Asgardians and Vanir loved drinking. Booze alone was boring—why not add some snacks?
Trading daily goods for magic artifacts and high-tech? A sure win.
He'd just burned lifespan to save Vanaheim and fought Surtur heroically. Heimdall likely saw it all. Time to nudge him to spread the word.
Mainly for Gulveig and Frigga, the Vanir leaders. They knew this "Odin" was fake, but an outsider's dedication would surely touch them.
No work for free. He came to Asgard for Gin, but since he was here, he wouldn't leave empty-handed.
The plan shifted slightly. Originally, he'd eyed Contraxia.
Its star system's dying sun slowed planetary orbits, simplifying the cosmic environment. Most life had abandoned it.
But in a decade, Jack of Hearts would save it, replacing the bloated, dying star with a young one from an unclaimed system, preserving the system.
Contraxia, reborn as a frozen world, would see an influx of immigrants, booming with tourism—bars and brothels everywhere, a hub for galactic gossip.
Ravagers, like Star-Lord's mentor Yondu, frequented it, especially for robotic escorts.
As a mercenary, Deathstroke knew how to deal with mercs and loved lively spots.
Allies one mission could be enemies the next—that's mercenary life.
People died, but new blood always joined. With cash to burn, mercs spent freely and spilled secrets.
"We're here. Njordton, City of Longships."
Vanaheim's capital stretched below, a white jade city along the coastline.
Shaped like a longship, its thriving fishery packed the port with small boats, hence the name.
Unlike Asgard's grandeur, the Vanir embraced nature. Tall trees, like oversized Earth palms, stood among buildings, their bare trunks topped with lush, umbrella-like fronds.
Buildings were boxy, rarely towers, their white forms floating like sails on a green sea.
"I can barely remember my last visit here," Gin mused, shaking her head at the view.
Earth hadn't been her home as long as Asgard, yet this place felt alien now.
Talking wasn't convenient, so Su Ming just nodded, acknowledging her.
If she liked it here, getting Gulveig to grant a vacation villa would be easy. But after delays, finding Zemo was urgent.
"Know where the artisan district is? I can't tell buildings apart," Monarch asked, picking up Su Ming's cue.
Gin exhaled, snapping back to her sharp self. She pressed one of the Pegasus' ears, scanning below.
"There—see the colorful tarps? That's the market district, where artisans cluster."
Su Ming squinted. Among the green canopy, he spotted patches of colored fabric. The city was nearly deserted.
Gripping the Godslayer, now Gungnir, he said, "Let's go down."