The two halves of the wreckage drifted apart slowly under inertia, with scattered small internal explosions acting like final wails before soon dying out in the vacuum.
From the strike to the destruction, the entire process took no more than two seconds—clean and efficient, like a hot knife through butter, without the slightest hesitation.
A three-hundred-meter-long Kree Empire capital ship had thus been turned into space junk.
Inside the bridge, there was a deathly silence.
Everyone was frozen in place, including Ronan.
The data pad in the adjutant's hand fell to the floor with a crisp cracking sound, but no one looked down.
"Five seconds left," Mavuika's voice rang out again, this time with a chill.
The flaming greatsword in her hand turned slightly, pointing at the next warship.
Ronan's face turned from livid to pale, and finally to a deathly gray.
All his ambition, all his pride, and all his conviction that "legends are merely exaggerations" were completely shattered before this single strike.
This wasn't a gap in technology or a difference in tactics; this was a fundamental difference in the level of existence—the absolute powerlessness of a mortal facing a deity.
"Re..." Ronan's lips trembled, finding his voice parched for the first time.
"Retreat! All units retreat! Initiate warp jump immediately!"
He practically screamed it, having lost all his composure.
His subordinates, as if granted a general amnesty, scrambled to operate the consoles.
The engines of the remaining three Kree warships roared to life, shield power was pushed to the limit, and the warp engines were Overloaded to charge.
Blue warp halos lit up around the three warships as space began to warp.
At the last moment, Ronan looked through the viewport at Mavuika. Those cold eyes were etched deep into his soul.
With a flash of light, the three warships vanished.
Only the warship wreckage, drifting metal fragments, and Mavuika standing quietly in place remained in the Akasha.
Mavuika did not pursue; she just watched silently.
The flaming greatsword in her hand slowly shrank, finally turning into sparks that dissipated into the void.
She had given a warning and displayed her power; the remaining choice was theirs.
If Ronan had chosen to fight to the death, she would have eliminated all invaders without hesitation.
But since they chose the wise path, she wouldn't drive them to total extinction; Asgard's majesty lay in deterrence, not Carnage.
She looked toward Earth and sighed softly.
"It seems it's time to make the Universe remember the name of Asgard again."
Turning around, she transformed into a gold-red meteor, heading back toward the Skrull ship.
...
In low Earth orbit, aboard the Skrull stealth ship.
While Mavuika was intercepting the Kree fleet in lunar orbit, another conflict was unfolding on the Skrull ship.
The interior of the ship was in chaos, alarms flashed red, the hull vibrated violently under the bombardment of energy weapons, and there was a smell of Burning and a faint scent of blood in the air.
Just ten minutes ago, a small Kree Assault Craft had forcibly docked with the mothership, and a team of elite Kree warriors had broken inside.
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