Anji finished her ice cream and leaned back with a satisfied sigh, watching the scene before her with clear delight. What caught her attention most was the lively play between the little girl Sally and the oversized, fluffy blue cat Nina. Anji loved nothing more than the wholesome sight of children bonding with pets; it warmed her heart and reminded her that even in the chaos of the universe, moments of peace and innocence still existed.
But what Anji didn't notice was that Sally, while giggling and petting Nina, let a faint glow slip from her tiny hand.
"Meow—meow!" Nina purred, her wide pink tongue darting out as she licked up the remainder of the melting ice cream.
The taste was sugary, creamy, and unfamiliar. Nina let out two questioning cries, her ears twitching as though confused. The big cat could sense the sweetness, could feel the flavor lingering on her tongue—but at the same time, it was as though she hadn't truly eaten anything at all. There was no heaviness in her belly, no satisfaction like when she devoured her usual meals of cat food.
It was as if the taste itself had been conjured out of nothing and would vanish the moment she swallowed.
Nina blinked, her whiskers twitching. Was this how humans always ate their strange food?
Seeing the puzzled look on her furry companion's face, Sally pressed her hand against her mouth to stifle a laugh. She knew exactly what had happened. The glow from her fingers had gently erased the ice cream's substance as it reached Nina's stomach, leaving behind only the flavor but none of the risk.
Sally had learned the trick for a reason. She didn't want Nina to suffer a stomachache from the richness of the dessert. This way, Nina got to enjoy the taste without the consequences.
At that moment, Anji rose from her chair and stretched. "Sally, come on. Let's go wash up and take a shower before it gets too late."
"Okay~" Sally chimed happily, hopping off her seat.
---
Meanwhile, elsewhere on the planet, whispers of danger floated through the air like smoke.
"Hey, did you hear? There's someone new stirring up trouble."
"You mean that figure who's been making headlines lately?"
"Yeah. Word is, this person's taken down several warriors—good ones too. Even some generals from the Lasswell Empire."
"Tsk. That's insane."
"And here's the kicker—they say it's a woman. No one knows her race or her origin. Completely mysterious."
The conversation hummed within a bar lit by dim purple lamps. The place was rough, full of mercenaries, pirates, and drifters, the kind of establishment where people swapped rumors as eagerly as they swapped drinks. Information in such a place was a strange beast—part truth, part lie, often impossible to separate. But it was also the best place to catch wind of galactic upheavals.
At a table tucked away near the deck, a figure cloaked in a black hood sipped a glowing blue beer. Beneath the hood, Bella's lips curved into a faint, ironic smile.
They were talking about her.
Over the last stretch of weeks, Bella had tracked down and challenged powerful individuals—lone rangers, mercenary captains, even commanders descended from ancient bloodlines. All of them had hovered around the level known as Sub-God Father, and all of them had fallen to her.
And yet, she had not killed them. That decision—whether out of mercy or calculation—left survivors whispering of her mysterious strength. Rumors spread fast in the universe, especially about someone as enigmatic as her.
Those who fought her quickly realized the truth: Bella was not someone to provoke lightly.
She possessed strength that brushed against the threshold of a true God Father. Her mastery of the Space Stone, combined with the cataclysmic force of her growing Supernova technique, made her a force that no second- or third-rate faction wanted to risk angering. If she had an unknown backer—or worse, if she were acting under the banner of some hidden empire—the consequences of harming her could doom entire bloodlines.
Bella understood this dynamic, and it gave her confidence. Not arrogance, not yet—but confidence.
Her recent victories had hardened her body, sharpened her speed, deepened her reserves of magic. When she poured her power fully into a Supernova blast, she could now annihilate an entire planet in one strike. That single fact placed her at the very threshold of the God Father level.
But Bella was no fool. She knew the gap between her current standing and true God Fathers was enormous. The ceiling of that rank was set by legends like the Sorcerer Supreme, the Ancient One, or the All-Father Odin. Even aged, even weakened, those two could bend galaxies to their will. Bella wasn't about to delude herself into thinking she could match them. Not yet.
She swirled her beer, sighing softly. "The starburst may be the basic requirement," she muttered to herself, "but that doesn't make me a God Father. Not truly."
Still, she couldn't help but feel proud. She was strong enough now to laugh at armies, to outmaneuver fleets, to stand unafraid before most who would come against her.
And yet…
The bottleneck frustrated her.
She had defeated seven, eight, perhaps more Sub-God Father opponents, and yet her abilities refused to push her past the invisible wall. She had expected her attributes to grow, but no. It was as if she stood at the edge of a cliff, needing only one final step to leap into the heavens—but no bridge, no path, no momentum could take her there.
Still, Bella believed that once she broke through, her rise would be meteoric. Not merely a bottom-tier God Father, but among the strongest. She could feel it in her bones.
She refused a flirtatious blue-skinned server with a polite shake of her head and leaned back in her chair. But just then, a raucous laugh carried across the bar.
"Oi! Fine Dog-Man! Didn't expect to see you back here. Weren't you off with your little hunting crew chasing rare beasts?"
The insult earned a round of chuckles from the table.
"What'd you catch, huh? A mossas? A carrion bird?"
"Ha! With that lot? They'd be lucky to trap a carrion flea!"
The target of their teasing—a hulking humanoid with a canine snout—snarled and smashed a bottle of wine onto the table. Foam spilled across the wood as he guzzled the remains in frustration.
When he slammed the empty bottle down, his expression was dark. "Laugh all you want. I almost didn't make it back alive today."
That silenced the table.
"What do you mean?" one asked cautiously.
"The warlord's fleets. They're everywhere. Burning, tearing through sectors, wiping out entire civilizations. Any ship that crossed their path—gone."
The crowd leaned closer, voices hushed.
"Why?"
"Who are they after?"
The dog-headed warrior's ears drooped as he sighed. "They're searching for a woman. Don't ask me who—nobody knows."
The table fell silent. Then someone finally muttered:
"Who would dare unleash fleets like that? Aren't they afraid of a galactic siege?"
The warrior shrugged, bitterness in his eyes. "Who else? Thanos."
The name dropped like a thunderclap.
Hisses and gasps spread across the bar. Faces paled, and even hardened mercenaries exchanged uneasy looks.
At her lonely table, Bella's head snapped up. A golden spark flickered in her eyes.
The Mad Titan's shadow had entered the board.
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