"The Kree Empire..." Even thinking the name made his chest tighten. "They aren't just another advanced race spread across the stars. They're a cold, efficient, and ancient war machine—a species built for conquest, shaped over thousands of years through discipline, experimentation, and an obsession with control."

  "The worlds under their rule are stripped bare and turned into factories of war, churning out soldiers, ships, and weapons capable of erasing entire planets. Every Kree is born into service, their worth measured by how much they can offer to the Empire's endless conquests."

  "Things like art, joy, or compassion don't exist there anymore. They gave those up long ago. What remains is purpose, drilled into every fiber of their being, and that purpose is domination. And what's coming for this planet sits right at the top of that hierarchy..."

  "...Ronan the Accuser."

  A heavy silence followed the room at the mention of the name, while Talos continued to speak.

  "The man isn't just a soldier. He's a zealot encased in armor, carrying judgment like it's sacred flame. Where the Kree Supreme Intelligence rules through calculation and logic, Ronan embodies their devotion to conquest. To him, war isn't duty—it's divine."

  "He commands fleets that can blot out the sky, armadas forged from the Empire's finest—warships bristling with weapons capable of turning civilizations into ash. And that's only the strength of the forces under his command."

  "The warlord himself is no ordinary being either. His physiology stands at the pinnacle of mortal potential and far beyond most baseline species. A master of combat, seasoned in warfare and strategy, he's a weapon sharpened by countless battles. With his infamous weapon, the Cosmic-Rod, he is, for lack of a better term, a one-man army."

  Although Talos had never personally faced that nightmare, he had heard enough from countless victims—entire colonies erased beneath the glow of the warmonger's cursed weapon. While on the run, he had also witnessed firsthand the devastation left in the man's wake.

  "The Kree... they call him the Supreme Accuser, the living executor of the Empire's will."

  As the green-skinned alien spoke, laying bare everything he knew about the invasion bound for their planet, and with the memories they had all seen still fresh in their minds, even the archmages' faces had hardened. The magnitude of what's coming had finally gripped every soul, both those watching from afar and those present in the room.

  ---

  The X-Men, led by Charles Xavier, were the last to arrive. Among them were Ororo Munroe, better known as Storm; Raven Darkholme, the shapeshifter called Mystique; Logan, the Wolverine; Henry McCoy, the brilliant Beast; and, of course, Professor X himself.

  Their numbers were small, but these were the only adults Charles could spare, and he obviously wouldn't bring the children under his care into a war.

  On top of that, the message he had received was urgent, and he hadn't had time to reach out to anyone else, including some of his old enemies-slash-allies.

  But really, Maverick only needed Ororo—the rest wouldn't be of much use anyway.

  A few hours had passed, and by this point, it wasn't just the people physically gathered in Maria's home who were part of the meeting. This threat—even if Maverick had wanted to keep it under tight wraps—could not ultimately be hidden from the upper echelons of the world's powers.

  It was, after all, a global catastrophe that was imminent—not simply a threat to a single city like London or New York. Anywhere, big or small, poor or rich, town, city, or country could be affected if things went wrong. So it was only logical that the whole world be involved when discussing the plan to resolve the matter.

  However, it wasn't feasible for every leader to gather at what, to them, was just a random citizen's home. The next best option, one that could be implemented quickly, was to hold a conference where everyone could at least watch and voice their concerns.

  And thanks to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s technology, combined with Maverick's magical vision enhancements, it wasn't a difficult task—hence, the gathering now included a live video link too.

  The World Security Council, the International Confederation of Wizards, the Director and top officials of S.H.I.E.L.D., and many heads of state and magical governments were also watching, their eyes fixed on the events unfolding in Maria's living room.

  On top of that, Isabella had also brought in her crew and started streaming the meeting live to the entire magical world. Only the magical world, of course—the muggle side, their civilians had no idea.

  What? Who was going to reprimand her, she, Isabella Garling, with two thick thighs behind her? Besides, what she was doing was right under the eyes of five archmages, and since it technically didn't break the statute of secrecy—i.e., revealing magic to the general muggle public—nobody even thought to question her. Such was the thinking of the hierarchy of the magical world.

  Anyway, after everyone had gathered, the first thing Maverick did was play the memories for those physically present—starting with Yon-Rogg's communications with Ronan the Accuser.

  As a high-ranking commander in the Kree Empire, Yon-Rogg had a meticulous and structured understanding of the Kree military, and especially of Ronan, the general personally leading the fleet on its way to Earth.

  For magicals, memories were like CCTV for the muggles—only in 4K-plus resolution. Experiencing the Kree commander's viewpoint in vivid detail left no doubt about the severity of the situation for those gathered.

  At least for those physically present, it was crystal clear after that point that they had been summoned for a good reason—and, more importantly, that Maverick had made the right call in doing so.

  As for whether they all believed it, or if Maverick had tempered the memories… that was never a question. Would a dignified archmage gather the entire world just to lie to them?

  Finally, for those watching and listening via the video link, who couldn't experience the memories firsthand, Maverick turned to Talos and asked the alien to speak from his perspective, explaining everything he knew about the Kree Empire and the forces Ronan commanded.

  ---

  "Mr. Alien... Talos. From what I can understand, this... extraterrestrial warlord's purpose in coming here is to eliminate your people, right?"

  A politician's instinct was immediate. A voice from the screen cut through the room as the Prime Minister of India spoke, his remark obvious, though not said outright.

  "If you're suggesting we play it safe by handing over what the enemy wants and thinking we'll be spared, then your thinking is far too shallow. Respectfully, Mr. Prime Minister," Maverick said, his eyes narrowing at the screen.

  "I agree with the High Councilor," said Alexander Piers, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., as Maverick paused. "Besides, this is a warmongering intergalactic warlord. I highly doubt he'd consider a peaceful resolution, even if we gave him what he wanted."

  "With all due respect, human leaders, you cannot assume Kree thinking is like human thinking, or even like that of any other civilization," Talos said, his tone calm and measured as he faced the large screen. "Yes, you could hand me over, thinking you'd be safe, but I guarantee that would only feed the Accuser's arrogance."

  "How would you know that?" another voice echoed from the screen. It was the Prime Minister of Japan, his tone cautious but firm, seemingly agreeing with his Indian counterpart. "You said it yourself... you've never met this... alien."

  "There will be no negotiations and certainly no compromise," Maverick snapped, his hand flattening on the table. "Unless, of course, you want us to look weak in front of the enemy?"

  "I agree with the High Councilor," the President of the United States said, leaning forward in his chair, backing Maverick's tone. "Compromise is for the weak. Our world will not be taken because we tried to appease a conqueror on first contact."

  A woman's voice from the screen then asked, practical and clipped. "Do we have a technical way to know when and where the invaders will arrive?"

  "We're working on it, Ms. Carter," Maverick answered, then glanced at Morex beside Talos. "Is the project finished, Morex?"

  Morex shrugged, lazy confidence in his posture. "It's been finished for a while. It's up and running. It can detect anything within a range out to the Moon's orbit and around Earth. I can extend the range if you want."

  "No, that's enough," Maverick said, then looked toward the screen that showed Peggy Carter and nodded at her.

  "So what happens when your radar detects the fleet? What support can individual governments provide?" the Queen of England asked from her square on the feed. Beside her, Maverick also noticed his father sitting quietly yet confidently. As expected of his old man.

  "Have your air forces ready and on standby," Maverick said, addressing all the muggle leaders. "If a missile or one of their fighter pods slips past our outer defenses, you will be the last line."

  He paused, then let his gaze fall to the square on the screen showing the ICW assembly. "And to the International Confederation of Wizards, scatter your great-magi across the globe. If anything gets through, work with the muggle air forces to intercept and eliminate it."

  He then turned back to the people at the table. "What do you think?"

  A beat of silence, then Dumbledore leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "Indeed. Scattering our ranks worldwide will greatly reduce the chance that anything slipping through can cause widespread devastation. Even if the chance is small, spreading our defenses is wise."

  "SHIELD will also mobilize all its air offensive units on standby," Director Piers added, leaning forward slightly.

  "So will the X-Men," Xavier said calmly.

  "Yes," Hank said from beside him, "though it's only the X-Jet. Still, it's advanced, and capable of intercepting missiles, even ballistic ones, provided we get a heads-up in time."

  At his words, a military officer seated near the President couldn't help but raise an eyebrow and ask, "Charles Xavier, are you saying you, a civilian, have a weaponized aircraft?"

  "Gentlemen," fortunately for Charles, Maverick had cut in swiftly, halting the rising argument. "This is neither the time nor the place for your bickering."

  The President of the United States also raised a hand and motioned to his general to stand down. He then leaned forward. "Are you sure, High Councilor," he said, eyes narrowing, "that our air forces can't offer offensive support instead of just waiting? What if these aliens, once their weapons come within range of our surface, decide to fire... say, targeting every country on Earth at once? How sure are you that you can intercept all of them at once?"

  It was a fair point. Even with Maverick and the other archmages working together, they would still be hard pressed. Each might be powerful enough to take down Ronan on their own, but stopping a barrage of ballistic weapons launched from fifty warships at once would be nearly impossible to intercept, even if all five fought together.

  However... it wasn't just five archmages who would be the only offensive line in Maverick's plan. There's Danvers, Ororo, and many great magi at his side, and together, he was confident they could drive Ronan away from the planet sooner rather than later.

  From what he had gleaned from Yon-Rogg's memories, the Accuser would not stand idly by while his fleet was being destroyed. Once he truly saw and understood the full power of Earth's offensive vanguard, there was a very high chance he wouldn't hesitate to flee and abandon his mission.

  And even if he didn't flee, that was fine too. Because Maverick's confidence also came from the two old farmers hiding in the wings. Surely they wouldn't let some punk do whatever he wanted to their planet, would they?

  At least, the Sorcerer Supreme had already given him her word—literally via a text—that she and her forces would intercept anything, say, a warhead slipping through their defenses. With that assurance, he could face Ronan with a confident mindset, knowing he wasn't endangering any lives on the planet.

  Therefore, that particular scenario the President of the United States had mentioned would, he was sure, never come to pass.

  He considered the question the leader of Uncle Sam had proposed for a long beat, then leaned forward, letting his gaze sweep across the faces in the room and the tiles of the large screen. It was time to let everyone in on the plan, he decided.

  "My plan is…"

  —————————

  Once everyone understood the gravity of what was coming, the talk then moved toward about countermeasures. It was a simple question, though the answer was anything but: how would Earth defend itself?

  And as the unofficial chair of this operation, Maverick was the first to speak and outlined the strategy he had in mind to intercept the enemy. Actually, he was the only one with a plan practical enough that could be executed within the narrow window they had left.

  Obviously, it goes without saying that the people already gathered there were part of that very plan, and many, after fully realizing it, even acknowledged him for his quick thinking and decisive action. Not a single one, whether physically present in the room or otherwise, was certain they could have assembled so many powerhouses in such a short time the way Maverick had.

  However, with so many voices in one place, arguments were bound to arise. Not per se about the main offensive — that was unanimously agreed upon very quickly — but about providing additional support. Some generals, lurking behind their heads of state, even tossed out the idea of nuking the enemy from the skies, only to be shut down on the spot by Talos, who pointed out it would never get past the Kree battleships' point-defense turrets.

  Not to mention the technological gap: the enemy fleet would detect it from a planet away, potentially making things worse. In the worst-case scenario, they might even decide to unleash a full salvo of ballistics all at once.

  But still, the generals from the superpower countries were not content to simply stand idly by. At least they wanted their birds in the air when the operation began, so after some back-and-forth, it was agreed they could stay deployed, but at a reasonable distance.

  Beyond that, the main topic later discussed among the gathered parties was additional countermeasures — how to ensure that if the main offensive line did in fact fail or was breached, steps could be put in place to minimize or prevent any attack from causing casualties.

  Already, the suggestion Maverick had made earlier — to have the air forces on alert and the Great Magi work together — was the best strategy. So it was just a matter of detailing it and establishing a command structure.

  And so, as the stars drifted across the night sky, and in other parts of the world, as the sun traced its destined path overhead, time pressed forward, despite the hum of lingering tension, quiet and unnoticed.

  Some took breaks, while others stayed until sunset or sunrise, depending on where they were, yet the conference link never went silent, alive with the constant hum of discussion as strategies were refined, argued over, and perfected down to the very last detail.

  Then, precisely at ten o'clock the next day in the time zone where the main force was gathered, the modified living room-turned-conference room inside Maria's house suddenly flared into alarm, a sharp warning that cut through the quiet hum of activity and made everyone snap to attention.

  At this time, only about half the people who had been there yesterday were present in the room. All the archmages were absent, but most Greatmagi remained, along with a few new faces who had arrived later and were direct subordinates to the archmages: Maxime, Takamura, and Edward.

  Talos and Morex never left, even eating their meals there while being questioned non-stop by SHIELD and the military around the world for every nit and crumb of detail about the Kree Empire. Fury and Coulson endured the same fate, serving as SHIELD's representatives to bridge the operation's developments to the non-magical world, while the rest of the participants came and went in the meantime.

  However, just as the alarm blared, the room reverberated with thumping echoes, as if space itself were fracturing. Witches and wizards who had stepped outside for a break—or for any other reason—apparated back in one after another, while the pounding of hurried footsteps from outside signaled the rest rushing in, and the air inside the room instantly crackled with urgency.

  "Talk to me, Morex…" Maverick said, sliding into the headmost seat as the long table filled quickly with everyone taking their places.

  Morex didn't answer immediately. His fingers danced over the Kree tech strapped to his hand, twisting and adjusting with nervous precision as beads of sweat formed on his brow. After a long, deliberate pause, he finally swiped his hand through the air, and the room dimmed before a hologram flickered to life in the center of the table.

  The hologram hovered, glowing faintly: a flawless sphere of Earth, and a smaller orb drifting at a distance, with dozens of red dots pulsing like urgent warning lights, while Morex finally spoke, cutting through the charged silence.

  "They're here…" he said bluntly.

  "How many?"

  "Coordinates?"

  "Are they moving?"

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  The three questions came almost at once from different feeds on the large screen. "Exactly fifty," Morex said, his fingers still dancing over the tech. He took a steadying breath before continuing, "Their exit jump, when my recon detected it, was somewhere between C-53 and its moon. And yes… they are moving, heading straight for the planet."

  "That close? How fast are their… vessels?" Dumbledore asked from the table, looking solemnly at the glowing hologram.

  "Half an hour, no more. They're moving fast, and it seems…" He paused, then turned briefly to Maverick and added, "…they've taken the bait, judging from their trajectory and factoring in C-53's rotation."

  "That's good." Maverick let out a breath. Even though he was confident about the operation, he couldn't help feeling a tang of tension. He wasn't afraid for his own life, but if the operation didn't go according to plan, many innocent lives could be at risk.

  And the "bait," was nothing more than a simulated distress signal, mimicking the Kree, designed to lure the enemy fleet into the atmosphere at a location of their choosing. That way, even if the offensive line was breached, the Kree fleet's weapons or drones would need time to reach inhabited areas, giving them a window to implement additional countermeasures. The signal originated from the Taklamakan Desert in China, exceptionally far from any human settlements, making it one of the most isolated places on Earth.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, you heard the science guy," Maverick said, glancing across the room and the screen. "Councillors of the International Confederation of Wizards, be prepared to move to the location on our signal." He first addressed all the Greatmagi, then the non-magical side. "Generals, have your air assets on standby for our signal. If we can ultimately lure their fifty-ship fleet into that atmospheric pocket, we will execute Plan A and launch a coordinated, full-scale offensive. The five of us, along with Ms. Danvers and the Greatmagi, will hit them with everything we have. Until then, it's Plan B for you: disperse and stay ready for anything."

  "Fifteen minutes," Morex announced again. "They're accelerating..."

  Maverick nodded and rose to his feet, eyes locking on the green-skinned alien. "Stay here, and keep the data flowing through coms." Then he faced the rest. "Move out!" And with that, he vanished from the spot, the mages disappearing in his wake, while the non-magical teams surged toward the exit, leaving only Morex and Maria inside.

  Everyone had gathered outside. The Greatmagi gripped their brooms, ready, while the X-Jet sat waiting a short distance away. Compared to yesterday, the numbers had clearly swelled, and Maverick took a moment to review the plan one last time. Meanwhile, Isabella and her crew had their gadgets trained and streaming live, feeding every move back inside the room and across the magical world.

  "The plan is simple. Don't hold back. Unleash the most destructive magic you have. Hit hard, hard enough to make them turn tail and retreat at once, because together we are more than capable of that. But the longer we engage, the greater the chance their weapons will be deployed all at once, so we must act decisively without giving them so much as a breath."

  He paused briefly, his gaze sweeping the somber faces mirroring his. "Remember, not a single innocent life should be affected today."

  "Mr. Caesar, is there a faster way for the X Jet to reach the location? It's halfway around the world," Hank asked, standing beside Xavier.

  "Yes. Get your bird in the air and I'll handle the rest," Maverick said, giving no further details.

  ---

  Taklamakan Desert. A vast sea of sand stretching endlessly under a scorching sun, the wind whipping dust into blinding waves, and the isolation made it one of the most remote places on Earth.

  Suddenly, the silence of this vast wasteland was torn apart as a massive, shimmering portal flared open in the sky, its edges crackling with orange sparks, and—

  BOOM! A deafening roar erupted from within, shattering the stillness over the barren desert. From the glowing vortex, a large, pitch-black aircraft shot out with a thunderous woosh, engines screaming, leaving a streak of blue light as it pierced the sky.

  Maverick didn't bother hiding his ability with sorcery. Maybe Dumbledore and the Archmages understood what they were seeing, but the rest could only assume it was some unknown, unheard-of form of magic. Of course, he caught the curiosity in their eyes—most notably Dumbledore's, and even his teacher's, but with time pressing and tension rising, no one made a big deal of it.

  And thanks to the Sling Ring portal—well, minus the ring in his case—everyone avoided the hassle of apparating separately, and all of them, including the X-Jet carrying the X-Men, reached the target location together just as quickly.

  Woosh. Woosh. Woosh.

  Through the blazing portal shot the Greatmagi on their broomsticks, the X-Jet having led the way, followed by the Archmages gliding atop their luminous constructs. Finally, Maverick stepped through, and the shimmering gateway snapped shut behind him like a curtain of fire.

  "Group up! Follow the plan exactly!"

  There was no pause in their movement, no time to take in the wasteland or the blistering heat, and formations formed instantly. The Greatmagi scattered, pairing off in groups of two, and, following the five Archmages and the human comet blazing ahead, they surged into the clouds without hesitation.

  At the same time, trailing behind, Isabella and her crew rose more deliberately, flanked by Ali, Lupin, Sirius, and Sarah. Two Greatmagi alongside Sirius and Lupin were enough, if needed, to intercept any stragglers daring to slip past the main offensive. Their mission was clear: provide cover while simultaneously setting the stage to film the interception and broadcast it to both the Muggle world leaders and the entire magical community.

  —————————

  The fifth of January, 1994. In the annals of history, it would shine as the day the world's eyes first opened to the infinite expanse beyond its fragile blue skies, and to the threats lurking among the stars.

  Until then, humanity had lived in quiet arrogance, blind to the immensity of the universe, some even believing they were at the center of it. They had no idea.

  But it was also on that day that the vaster universe was delivered a profound lesson: ignorance does not always make one any less threatening. Sometimes, beneath all that docility, what appears to be a harmless sheep could very well be a sleeping dragon.

  ---

  A massive armada of steel behemoths drifted into low orbit, moving like a silent storm across the void above Earth. Fifty in total, each larger than the biggest commercial airliner ever built, and together they almost resembled a thunderous tempest moving across the sky.

  This was the destroyer fleet of the Kree Empire's most formidable general, Ronan the Accuser. At this time, aboard the war machine at the forefront, the general himself stood on the command deck, watching as the fleet under his command passed the exosphere of planet Earth.

  He was a figure of undeniable presence, towering at 7'5" and encased in Kree exoskeletal armor—a flawless fusion of ancient tradition and cutting-edge technology. In his grasp, he wielded his signature weapon: a hybrid of staff and hammer, capable of manipulating energy, matter, and gravity with devastating precision.

  His calculating eyes swept across the viewports, tracking the descent of his armada as it pierced the first blanket of clouds. This primitive world would serve as a lesson to any who dared defy Kree authority, he thought coldly, arrogance curling in his posture.

  But first, he needed to locate his target: Commander Yon-Rogg. Not that he harbored any compassion or intended to save him, but the Tesseract, the object of this expedition, was with the fool the last he had known.

  But for some reason, contact with Yon-Rogg and his entire platoon had been lost some time ago, reduced to a single, desperate distress signal—which they were now tracking.

  As for the possibility that it could be a trap to lure him, he hadn't even considered it. After all, who in their right mind would bait an entire Kree Accuser fleet—unless those on the other end were courting their own destruction?

  "General, we have movement."

  Ronan's cold blue pupils flicked toward the voice, and saw the console in front of his subordinate flared red, alarms stuttering to life.

  "Scanners are detecting multiple trajectories approaching the fleet from below, but…" The soldier hesitated, struggling to put into words what he was seeing.

  "Continue, soldier," Ronan ordered, his voice cold and clipped.

  "…Apologies, sir. The system can't determine whether they're mechanical or otherwise. Only one is showing a heat signature. The rest are… unknown."

  "Unknown?" His eyes narrowed.

  Tuk, tuk, tuk.

  His heavy metal boots rang against the deck as he strode forward and leaned over the console to study the feed. Indeed, every ping on the rader was marked unrecognizable—except for one.

  "Bring up the video feed!"

  "Transferring to the main screen, sir." The subordinate's fingers danced across the holo, and soon the main display bloomed with white cloud banks and an endless sea of orange below it.

  "Zoom in on the brightest one," Ronan pointed at the tiny blazing speck hurtling toward them.

  "Is that…" The soldier murmured, eyes glued to the display as the fiery flare resolved into a shape tearing through the atmosphere. It wasn't a weapon, as he had expected—it was... a woman.

  "Vers." A name slipped from Ronan's tongue like a venomous hiss, while his hand tightened subconsciously on the hammer. The thing he hated most was traitors, and the woman on the screen was the greatest of them all, having cost his empire the Tesseract—twice.

  His eyes went hard. "It seems the fool Yon-Rogg lost his worthless life… and his soldiers… to the dog he once fed. Pathetic!"

  "So then, sir… the distress signal was—?" the soldier asked hesitantly, and it goes without saying what he was trying to imply.

  It turned out this was indeed an ambush, but who was Ronan? The arrogance buried deep in his bones would never allow him admit to having been played, so he cut the soldier off with a dry snort and turned back toward his station.

  Does she honestly believe these primitive apes and their ragged tech can ambush my armada? he thought coldly, even half tempted to rain his entire arsenal down on the planet's ignorant masses.

  But while pride ruled him, he was no fool either. He knew exactly whose territory he was trespassing, a dominion under a true god-king. Their hands might be full elsewhere, giving him the confidence to strike boldly, yet that did not mean Asgard would just sit idly by if he rained hell on one of their domains. So as long as he stayed clear of the All-Father's red line, he was certain today's operation would succeed, and more importantly, he would claim his ultimate prize.

  "Unleash the swarm," he ordered, and the soldiers obeyed with machine precision, relaying his command. At least, he thought, he could show these fools the error of their thinking for having the audacity to ambush him.

  "All of them, sir?"

  "Yes. All. Target every insect trailing Vers. Destroy them all, but… keep the woman alive."

  "Understood!" the deck answered in unison, taut with a mix of fear and unwavering respect. Though they all thought the force they were ordered to unleash was far beyond excessive, the general's command was absolute.

  The air ahead split in a single, disciplined moment. Fifty Kree Imperial cruisers hung like dark teeth in the sky, their hulls gleaming with cold intent. In the command towers, officers watched the feed with blank focus, and when the order came, no one hesitated.

  "Launch pattern Alpha," the commanders called, and one by one the cruisers flexed. Vents opened, launch bays yawned like hungry mouths, and from each hull a dozen mini attack pods detached. Together, six hundred deadly units spilled into the clouds, thrusters roaring as they gradually converged into a single hive, descending from the heavens like judgment incarnate.

  They had the numbers. Down below, their scanners revealed the embarrassing ratio: one against ten, and each of those ten was armed with energy blasters capable of obliterating any organism foolish enough to stand in their way.

  However, "Keep the woman alive" was the command, and orders were orders, so they had to be careful. Instead of total annihilation, it was far more difficult to carry out an extermination when they had to avoid stepping on a single ant.

  ---

  Wooosh! Boom!

  Carol Danvers surged through the clouds, a streak of blazing light tearing across the sky. She raced far ahead, breaking supersonic while the rest struggled to keep pace—most riding brooms, a black fighter jet cutting through the air behind them, and a handful farther below inside invisible constructs that flickered in and out of view.

  She was hellbent on landing the first strike, her eyes locked on the thunderous formation of Ronan's fleet overhead—fifty titanic Imperial cruisers blotting out the sun as they descended. Had this happened before, she might have frozen in fear; after all, it was a hopeless, dreadful sight for any sane person to behold.

  As the distance closed, her eyes narrowed suddenly at a change in the obsidian-like cloud above, countless small movements flickering within it. From her vantage point, it looked like a swarm of bees, but having once been a soldier of the Kree, she knew exactly what those were, and she came to an abrupt stop. Each tiny dot was a single unit of raw firepower, which—although it posed little threat to her or the five super magicians at her side—would be overwhelming to anyone else.

  The rumors, it seemed, about Ronan the Accuser were indeed true, she thought: he was not the kind of person who toyed with his prey.

  Woosh!

  Suddenly, a figure materialized from the void beside her, and then—Woosh! Woosh! Woosh! Woosh!—more followed in a relentless rhythm, each movement tearing through space in a continuous pulse.

  "Are those…?" Maverick asked, eyes narrowing as he glided next to her. The rest of the archmagi and greatmagi gathered as well, all eyes fixed skyward on the dreadful sight before them.

  "Assault units—single-pilot attack pods. As I explained yesterday, each cruiser carries over a dozen of them."

  "It's like a swarm," Alester Moody remarked, perched atop his broom. "How many of them are there?"

  "Too many," commented Maverick's teacher, with a solemn expression. Even for an archmage, it was a menacing sight.

  "Hypothetically, if we were to get hit by a… what did you call it… an energy blast from one of those things, do you think our defensive spells could stop it?" one of the great magi asked, his eyes trembling slightly. The thundercloud-like fleet above them was intimidating enough, but now, coupled with a swarm of countless death machines, the sight had become even more terrifying.

  "A great magi's magic-fueled protega could… should be able to take a few energy blasts, even successively," Maverick, having tested the firepower of the Kree weapons against his shields, made a fair estimate. "But not if you were attacked from all sides."

  "I have a suggestion, Little Raven," Maxime interjected. Though she still used that accursed nickname, her expression was just as solemn as the rest.

  ---

  Back inside Maria's house, Talos, Morex and Maria watched the unfolding situation on the screen, their expressions just as grave as those of the people far away in the field.

  "My god…" a voice from the feed interrupted their thoughts, but their eyes never left the screen showing the action. "Can a group of just over fifty really handle all that?"

  Meanwhile, the heads of different states continued communicating over the conference link, sometimes suggesting, sometimes commenting, as they watched the situation unfold.

  "President Xi… your pilots are the closest. How far are they from the mission point?"

  "Half an hour, at least," the man in question replied in fluent English, also watching the offensive team from Earth, which had paused its ascent and was seemingly discussing a plan to intercept the hopelessly outnumbered situation before them.

  "Trust our people, my dear colleagues," Jameson Greengrass, the Minister of Magic of England, said with confidence. "Their numbers may be small, but they are not people numbers alone can define when it comes to who triumphs in the end."

  "The minister is correct."

  Moments later, "It seems they have devised a plan," Maria remarked softly, watching some change in the Earth team's offensive formation. "Did you hear what they said, Morex?"

  Morex was the only one with a communication link to the team in the field, where Maverick held the other end.

  "I hear them, but I have no idea what they're talking about. Something about luring them all close and coercing their wills before launching the offensive…" Morex repeated what he had just heard, turning to the two to see if they had any idea what it meant, but they were just as clueless as he was.

  "Some are falling behind, it appears. Are the five of them alone planning to take on all those countless units?" More comments came from the feed, and everyone watched the scene unfold.

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  Author's Note:

  You can find this story on Webnovel, Fanfiction, and ScribbleHub, all under the same author name: RyanFic. Updates drop first on Webnovel!

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