The interior of the massive black, bloated warship buzzed with restless energy. A crew of mercenaries, their skin tones and features as varied as the galaxies they hailed from, clutched their weapons and gathered around their captain. At their head stood a middle-aged man with blue skin, a lean yet intimidating figure, his head crowned with a strange metallic fin.

“This ship looks expensive,” one of the Ravagers muttered, his eyes gleaming with greed. “No way that kid Quill could ever afford to fly something like that.”

Yondu Udonta, the blue-skinned captain, immediately shook his head in disdain, though a sly grin tugged at his lips. “Doesn’t matter whose ship it is. If fate drops it in our laps, we sure as hell aren’t letting it go. Boys, bring us in close. We’re taking it.”

The Ravagers howled in excitement, their voices echoing through the steel corridors of the warship. They had been cheated recently by that slippery brat Peter Quill, and spirits were running low. The sight of this sleek vessel was like spotting a fat merchant caravan after weeks of empty pockets. This raid could put credits back in their hands and morale back in their bones.

“Boss, they’re requesting communications,” one of Yondu’s men reported.

Inside the vibranium starship, Aurora’s voice rang out, clear and calm. “Rowan, they’re hailing us.”

Rowan, standing with arms folded, considered his options. He had already begun piecing together what kind of crew might be on the other side. At Aurora’s words, he nodded. “Put them through.”

The channel crackled to life, and an arrogant, gravel-rough voice barked through the speakers: “Attention, ship ahead! Surrender immediately or we’ll blast you into stardust!”

Rowan blinked, momentarily speechless. So it really was a shakedown. He knew that swagger it had to be the Ravagers. And if this was Yondu, then that meant Quill wasn’t far from the picture.

His thoughts clicked into place. In the original timeline, Quill had double-crossed Yondu during Ronan’s hunt for the Orb the container of the Power Stone. Instead of handing it over, Quill tried to sell it on Xandar, only to get himself arrested. If Yondu was already here chasing him, then the Orb was most likely no longer on Morag. That made things far more complicated than Rowan had hoped.

“Damn it,” Rowan muttered under his breath. He’d thought snatching the Power Stone would be straightforward. Instead, he was already a step behind.

While Rowan mulled over the situation, the Ravagers’ massive warship latched onto the vibranium vessel with a gravity clamp. The two ships shuddered as the capture field locked tight.

“Boss, should I ready the weapons?” Aurora asked, her synthetic voice tinged with anticipation.

Rowan waved a hand. “No need. I’ll talk to them first.”

If anyone knew where Quill was, it would be Yondu. And if the Ravagers were foolish enough to bare their teeth at him, they’d learn very quickly what it meant to threaten Rowan.

The airlock hissed as it opened. Ravagers of all shapes and colors poured out, weapons glinting, encircling the smaller but far more advanced ship. At their head strode Yondu himself, leather coat flapping, steel-toothed grin wide and dangerous.

“Looks like we hit the jackpot, boys,” one of his crew chuckled. “This ship’s a beauty silver hull, top-grade alloys. And they didn’t even fight back when we reeled them in. Gotta be a bunch of rich tourists!”

Yondu’s grin widened. After Quill’s betrayal, his blood boiled for revenge, but this unexpected prize was just the kind of balm he needed. Planting his hands on his hips, he bellowed, “Inside that ship! Come on out and maybe I won’t kill ya!”

The vibranium ship’s ramp lowered with a hiss. Two figures appeared at the threshold.

“Master,” Wanda said softly, tilting her head toward Rowan, her crimson hair catching the ship’s lights. “Let me handle them.”

Rowan gave her a single nod. “Don’t hold back. Everyone except the blue-skinned one. Leave him alive.”

Wanda froze for a heartbeat. Everyone? Her gaze swept across the sea of alien faces dozens of them, all armed, all sneering. The idea of killing them all chilled her, but she didn’t question Rowan. His word was law.

“Understood,” she whispered, inhaling deeply.

The Ravagers had finally gotten a clear look at her. Their reaction was immediate and predictably crude.

“Holy hell, Boss, look at that one!” one jeered.

“Damn, she’s perfect! Figure, face, everything ten outta ten!”

“If we sell her at the slave market, we’ll be rolling in credits. Or better yet…” one green-skinned mercenary sneered, licking his lips. “Why sell when we can have fun first? Let’s take her, boys!”

The crew roared in vulgar laughter, their eyes blazing with lust. The intent was unmistakable.

Wanda’s expression shifted instantly. Her emerald eyes turned cold as ice, burning with scarlet fury. She might not know their slang, but she understood perfectly what they meant. It wasn’t just an insult to her it was an insult to Rowan.

Her hesitation vanished. Her compassion evaporated.

A low hum filled the air. Three crimson-glowing blades, forged from Rowan’s arsenal and infused with Wanda’s chaotic energy, floated up around her like satellites. As rage surged, the raw force of chaos magic crackled in the air, her hair whipping wildly around her face.

“What the hell…?” Yondu stiffened. His gut twisted with alarm. Those floating blades eerily reminiscent of his own whistle-controlled arrow reeked of death.

“Careful! Watch out!” he barked, panic cracking his rough voice.

But his warning came too late.

The blades whistled through the air in streaks of scarlet light.

The Ravagers barely had time to scream. In less than two seconds, thirty men fell, their bodies collapsing in sprays of blood. The smell of iron flooded the bay.

The survivors froze, eyes wide in sheer horror. One moment they had been jeering, the next their comrades lay butchered at their feet.

Yondu’s hand flew to his belt. With a sharp whistle, his arrow darted forth like a crimson comet, streaking toward Wanda’s forehead. At the same time, the remaining Ravagers unleashed a storm of plasma fire, bolts of neon energy flooding the air.

Rowan remained at the ramp, arms folded. He made no move to help. He knew Wanda wore the Black God combat suit, and even without it, her chaotic potential was more than enough to withstand this rabble.

Wanda’s eyes narrowed. Though her body was still that of a fledgling warrior, her mental focus burned sharp as a blade. She sensed every trajectory, every hostile intent.

She lifted a single hand.

The whistle-arrow, death incarnate in Yondu’s hands, stopped cold in her grip. Its tail vibrated furiously, as if trying to break free, but Wanda held it steady with effortless force.

The Ravagers gasped. Yondu’s weapon, the arrow that had gutted fleets, was caught like a child’s toy.

Scarlet light surged from Wanda’s palm, dancing like wildfire. Her voice, low and trembling with wrath, broke the silence:

“You shouldn’t have mocked me. You shouldn’t have mocked my Master.”

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep