The capital of the Nova Empire…
Thirteen golden meteors, each trailing long plumes of flame, plunged from space toward the planet's surface, immediately triggering alerts at the Nova Legion's monitoring station.
Twenty-four Nova warships launched without hesitation, rising straight into the upper atmosphere.
But as the pilots approached, their eyes went wide. The "meteors" were nothing but illusions. The golden fire wasn't burning debris—it was thirteen humanoid figures descending from the void.
"Warning! Identify your citizenship immediately! Cease all threatening actions and submit to Nova traction!"
"Warning! Identify your citizenship immediately! Cease all threatening actions and submit to Nova traction!"
The twenty-four warships surrounded Gilgamesh and his group in a tight formation, broadcasting the message in every major galactic language as if terrified the intruders might miss a word.
Gilgamesh had never encountered this sort of bureaucratic bravado before. For a moment, he found the entire thing novel. He crossed his arms and hovered in silence, curious to see what this so-called "Nova traction" actually was.
The Saints behind him mirrored his calm posture, hands clasped behind their backs, careful not to interrupt his interest.
This nonchalance completely rattled the Nova Legion. They were the ones surrounded—so why were they acting like tourists admiring fireworks?
"Activate traction—now!"
Seeing no compliance, a Denarian-class officer hesitated only a moment before giving the order.
All twenty-four warships unleashed traction waves. An invisible force field surged out, attempting to drag the intruders into containment.
As the leader, Gilgamesh received special focus—five separate fields wrapped around him. For half a heartbeat, he felt five invisible forces tugging and pulling, trying to restrain him.
But the force was laughably soft, like a summer breeze brushing past.
There was no one in existence who would be moved by a breeze.
So the group simply hovered in place, motionless, no matter how much the warships strained their systems.
Deathmask let out a low, sinister chuckle. His expression shifted, the murderous glint in his eyes unmistakable. As the Cancer Gold Saint, he was sharp, cunning, and cruel—his cosmos twisted and eerie, his morals always hovering in the shadows.
These "ants" dared attempt to shake the heavens themselves. The thought filled him with shivering delight; it meant more souls headed for the Underworld.
"My lord, shall I take care of them?" he asked telepathically, though he was already itching to kill.
Gilgamesh smiled faintly but offered no verbal reply—only a single message in Deathmask's mind:
"Hurry up."
Gilgamesh effortlessly snapped the traction fields and shot toward the Nova capital. The others followed in formation.
The Nova Legion officers were stunned. This gravitational field could lift objects weighing hundreds of tons, yet these intruders hadn't even slowed.
"Is the system malfunctioning?"
"Stop them! Don't let them reach the surface!"
While the squad scrambled, Gilgamesh and his Saints were already more than a hundred meters away. Realizing this, the remaining pilots broke formation and gave chase.
But before the dozen pursuit ships could close in, they erupted into showers of spectral blue flames, scattering like burning confetti across the sky.
Deathmask hovered in their place, golden helmet gleaming, grey cloak billowing. Blue hellfire danced between his fingers, faint whispers of tormented souls echoing within.
After casually vaporizing the warships chasing Gilgamesh, he chuckled, savoring every second. "I can't allow you to disturb the master. But before I send you to the Underworld… choose a coffin you like."
"Is this guy insane?!"
"All hands—fire!!"
Watching their comrades die in their own empire's airspace ignited the Nova soldiers' fury. Their grief slammed into rage. Cannons locked onto Cancer from every angle.
Normally, Deathmask would have toyed with them, drawn things out for fun. But Gilgamesh's order—"Hurry up"—allowed no indulgence. He never dared question or delay a command from his master.
He shook his head with a hint of regret and said quietly, "What a pity. My lord didn't give me much time, so… I can only let you die ahead of schedule."
Before anyone could open fire, streaks of eerie blue will-o'-the-wisps burst from his hands. Each flame struck its target with perfect precision, instantly blasting the remaining warships around him into clouds of debris.
After confirming that no enemies remained, he summoned another surge of hellfire and hurled himself after Gilgamesh.
Nova Empire capital — Nova Corps Headquarters.
The battle feed showing the Cancer Gold Saint streamed directly into the command center's screens. As they watched the enemy effortlessly erase twenty-four Nova warships, the entire room froze into a suffocating silence.
"Who are these people?"
Nova Supreme Adora spoke blankly, her brow tightening with unmasked concern. They had just signed a ceasefire with the Kree Empire. Not even two days had passed, and now this. She felt utterly drained.
Her question didn't linger unanswered for long.
"Based on the data match," her analyst reported, "the leader is Gilgamesh Odinson of Asgard's Eternal Kingdom. The others are Gold Saints under his command. They've appeared in multiple Eternal Kingdom war campaigns."
"Asgard…?" Adora blinked. The name was familiar, but she couldn't place it immediately. The universe was too large; even she couldn't remember every world.
Seeing her confusion, her subordinate continued, "Asgard is a magical civilization. According to legend, the strongest beings there are called gods. Their ruler is the King of the Gods, who oversees the Nine Realms."
That jogged her memory. She had heard that Asgard blended magic and advanced science into a system unlike any other civilization, and that their God-King was unimaginably powerful.
"Another diplomatic nightmare. Send envoys immediately. We need to calm this situation, learn their intentions, and avoid provoking them."
"But… they just killed our soldiers!" a centurion protested, his voice shaking with grief. Those young warriors had served under him. He couldn't stomach the idea of their deaths being brushed aside.
Adora only shook her head, face unreadable. "Till, the war with the Kree has lasted too long. Anti-war sentiment is boiling across the Empire. We can't afford to trigger a second interstellar conflict."
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