Ten thousand light-years from the Milky Way lay a galaxy known as Carlo.
At the heart of the Carlo system sat the headquarters of the Peace Alliance—and, by extension, the Nova Corps, its only official military force.
The Peace Alliance was exactly what it sounded like: a massive coalition of civilizations that valued cooperation over conquest. It had countless member races, councils, and committees, but when things got ugly, there was only one group that actually carried guns and badges—the Nova Corps.
Their headquarters was located on a planet called Peace Star, a name that felt almost aggressively optimistic.
Right now, Gamora, Star-Lord, Rocket Raccoon, Groot, Drax the Destroyer, and two other members of the Guardians of the Galaxy had arrived here to submit the report for their latest completed mission. Paperwork—the real universal menace.
A short while later, Rocket Raccoon eased their small spacecraft into the docking port with surprising care. For someone who treated explosions like casual punctuation, he was oddly gentle with his ship. Once docked, the team took a space elevator down to the planet's surface.
It was afternoon on Peace Star.
The sun hovered low on the horizon, flooding the sky with deep orange and red hues as it slowly dipped westward. The light reflected off polished buildings and glass walkways, giving the entire city a warm, almost unreal glow—like the universe was briefly pretending it had no problems.
As they stepped out of the space elevator, Star-Lord and the others were immediately swallowed by the flow of foot traffic.
People were everywhere.
Green skin. Blue skin. Purple skin. Skin with scales. Skin with fur. Skin that honestly raised too many biological questions to ask out loud. Humans were present, but they were far from the majority.
According to Peace Alliance statistics, at least 1,314 intelligent species from different planets lived on Peace Star year-round. That wasn't counting short-term visitors, diplomats, or tourists who came, stared in awe, and then went home to brag.
Even though she'd seen it before, Gamora couldn't help feeling a familiar twist of envy.
So many races, walking side by side. No fear. No hierarchy enforced by bloodshed.
Under Thanos's rule, things were very different.
Nearly every race was forced to live on a single designated planet, packed together whether they liked it or not. A planet hosting more than two races was rare—and usually temporary.
Worse still, a species' right to reproduce wasn't inherent. It was earned.
Every year, races were ranked by "collective contribution." Those that consistently ranked last for more than three years would see their reproductive rights reduced.
Gamora had seen what happened next.
She had witnessed an entire race quietly disappear—not from war or disease, but from being deemed insufficiently useful.
That memory was burned into her, and it was one of the many reasons she had chosen to betray Thanos.
Soon, the group moved down the street together.
Rocket Raccoon led the way, as usual—mostly because he walked like he owned the place. He was the Guardians' pilot, weapons expert, and resident chaos gremlin. Barely a meter tall, he looked like a yellow-brown raccoon that had decided gravity, common sense, and the law were all optional.
Strapped to his back were weapons nearly as tall as he was: a power gun, a rocket launcher, and several smaller devices that definitely violated at least twelve Peace Alliance safety regulations.
Rocket possessed abilities far beyond any ordinary raccoon—super speed, agility, vision, hearing, razor-sharp claws, and reflexes that made most soldiers look half asleep. He was also an exceptional pilot and sharpshooter, fluent in the language of guns, explosives, and "things that probably shouldn't exist."
Unfortunately, he was also greedy.
If something sparkled, beeped, or looked remotely expensive, Rocket's eyes lit up like a kid spotting candy. Self-control was… a work in progress.
Walking beside him was Groot.
Towering over the crowd at more than two meters tall, Groot was a tree-like being from the Flora Colossus race. Despite his calm demeanor, he was highly intelligent and possessed a physiology that made most medics cry tears of professional jealousy.
As long as even a fragment of Groot remained—a branch, a twig—he could regenerate by watering and fertilizing it, effectively reviving himself. Death, for Groot, was more of a mild inconvenience.
He also had immense strength and defense, could grow to giant size at will, stretch his limbs like living vines, and manipulate plants around him. He could even release healing spores to treat others.
Most Flora Colossi were known for their aggressive, conquering nature.
Groot was the odd one out.
Peaceful, gentle, and perpetually calm, he followed Rocket around with the quiet loyalty of someone who had long accepted that chaos was now part of his life.
At the center of the group walked Gamora and Star-Lord.
Gamora looked much the same as always—emerald skin, long wine-red hair, a black, form-fitting leather outfit, and two daggers resting against her thighs. As she walked, her confident, fluid stride naturally drew attention.
Many underestimated her because of it.
They didn't live long.
Behind the graceful exterior was a warrior with terrifying skill and superhuman strength. Her most infamous achievement was assassinating a planetary-level powerhouse, a feat that had earned her a reputation whispered across star systems.
Or rather—
Thanos's henchmen were all infamous.
Gamora just happened to be the one who got away
As a newly emerging power, bloodshed and war were practically baked into the process of its rise. History had a bad habit of demanding a toll, and it never accepted payment quietly.
Star-Lord, standing beside Gamora, looked completely unchanged. He still wore that familiar, careless grin, his eyes wandering shamelessly toward the scantily clad beauties passing by, as if the death of his previous female companion had already been filed away under "ancient history." Emotional compartmentalization was one of his many questionable talents.
At the moment, he had swapped out his Raider suit for a brown leather jacket. Practical, really. This was the Star of Peace—the Nova Corps' headquarters. If he'd shown up in full Raider gear, he probably wouldn't have made it past customs, let alone off the ship.
Bringing up the rear was Drax the Destroyer.
Nearly two meters tall, gray-skinned, and carved with red markings that made him look like violence had personally signed him, Drax radiated menace. He was shirtless, of course, and walked sideways down the road like a territorial crab, projecting the unmistakable aura of someone who believed the King of Heaven ranked first and he ranked a very close second.
To be fair, it wasn't entirely arrogance. With near–planetary-level strength, and with Star-Lord not using any of his special tricks, Drax really was the strongest among them.
A short while later, the five arrived at the entrance of the mission center hall.
That was when Gamora suddenly stopped cold.
Displayed prominently on the massive lobby screen was a newly updated bounty.
Her bounty.
Fifty million Cosmic Coins.
The universe was full of powerful factions—the three great empires, the ten great alliances—but the Cosmic Coin, issued by the Commercial Alliance, was the most valuable currency in existence. The reason was simple: the Business Alliance treated reputation like a sacred religion. Their money almost never depreciated.
After all, trade was their lifeblood. If their currency lost credibility, who in their right mind would trade with them?
Fifty million Cosmic Coins could be exchanged for roughly 130 million Peace Coins, a number large enough to make even seasoned mercenaries feel a little weak in the knees.
For perspective, their entire ship—the small, slightly temperamental one—had only cost seventy million Space Coins.
Star-Lord was the first to react.
He turned slowly toward Gamora, his expression unusually grim, and asked, "You're… Thanos's daughter?"
Rocket Raccoon's eyes lit up instantly as he stared at Gamora, greed practically sparkling in his gaze—along with a few thoughts that probably shouldn't be unpacked in public.
Of the group, only Groot and Drax failed to react.
Groot didn't care about money because, frankly, money meant nothing to him.
Drax didn't react because he couldn't read the words on the screen and therefore had absolutely no idea why everyone suddenly looked like they'd spotted free explosives.
If it had been any other woman, facing both her companion's suspicion and a massive bounty tied to her father, panic would've set in immediately.
Gamora, however, merely crossed her arms and said coolly, "What? You want to trade me in for the reward?"
Before Star-Lord could answer, Rocket eagerly jumped in. "I heard your father destroyed Xandar and has a bounty of one billion. Want to go for the big prize?"
Despite his enthusiasm, it was clear Rocket already considered Gamora part of the team. Handing her over was never really on the table.
Star-Lord quickly caught on and shook his head. "No, no. I'm just… amazed. How does someone that ugly end up with such a beautiful daughter?"
Like Rocket, after fighting side by side for so long, he'd long since accepted Gamora as a partner. Whatever stray thoughts crossed his mind were firmly shoved back into a locked mental drawer.
Besides—even if he did get ideas—there was a very practical reason not to act on them.
He simply couldn't beat her.
.....
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