The galaxy was filled with countless strange creatures, but few were as coveted as the Mossa Behemoths. Their flesh and blood contained a mysterious substance that, when processed properly, could grant immense strength and even extend one's lifespan. Because of this, the Mossas had become one of the most valuable living resources in the universe.
Mercenaries, warlords, and black-market traders all dreamed of hunting these towering beasts. Yet dreams were one thing—reality was another. The Mossas were far from easy prey.
First, their home planet was wrapped in a peculiar magnetic field. Any advanced technology, from energy weapons to starship systems, was immediately neutralized upon entering the planet's atmosphere. Guns would jam, engines would shut down, and delicate circuitry fried in seconds. Even spacecraft couldn't descend safely; they had to remain in orbit. To land, mercenaries needed special devices, bulky and expensive machines built to resist the planet's disruptive field.
The companies that produced these landing rigs made fortunes every year, profiting off the greed of hunters. Yet even with the devices, the dangers remained.
For the Mossas were not just valuable—they were monsters of terrifying strength. A single adult could rival some of the strongest warriors known in the universe, its hide tougher than steel, its claws sharp enough to tear through reinforced alloys. Many mercenaries who dreamed of glory ended up as bones scattered across the mountains.
That only made the Mossa Behemoths more legendary. To slay one was to prove yourself a true master mercenary.
But Peter Quill, also known as Star-Lord, wasn't here to slay one. He had no illusions about that. He was clever, not suicidal.
Quill had spent an obscene amount of credits to acquire a landing rig and sneak down to this forsaken planet. His goal was simpler, though no less dangerous—he wanted to steal a Mossa cub.
The cubs, though smaller than their titanic parents, were every bit as valuable. Many buyers across the black market craved them, whether to raise into living weapons, dissect for research, or auction to the highest bidder. A single cub could set him up for life.
And Quill had studied their habits for months, pouring over scraps of information, building a plan. Today, he told himself, would be the day he struck it rich.
Wrapped in a black stealth coat, his worn backpack slung over his shoulders, Quill crept up the jagged slopes of a mountain that housed one of the great beasts' nests. The planet was an ugly place—dark skies shrouded in storm clouds, lightning tearing across the heavens in violent arcs, the ground slick with gray-black mud and foul-smelling gases. The stench clung to everything, an assault on the senses.
The Mossa nests were perched high, often at the peaks of mountains that scraped the clouds, stripped bare of vegetation. It took Quill over an hour of exhausting climbing, his hands raw against sharp stone, before he finally reached the summit.
Breathing heavily, he crouched behind a massive black boulder and lifted a small device: a heat-detection scope. Unlike advanced scanners, it was simple enough to function under the planet's magnetic distortion. Through its lens, he peered toward the cave entrance. No glowing hotspots flickered back at him.
"It's empty," he whispered with a grin. "Perfect."
Slipping inside, he moved cautiously. The cavern was vast, towering so high it felt like he was walking beneath the roof of a cathedral. His helmet visor activated night vision, painting the darkness in green tones.
The stench inside was worse, nearly choking, and bones littered the ground—enormous rib cages, cracked skulls, and half-devoured remains of prey unlucky enough to cross the behemoth. Yet what made Quill's heart leap wasn't the bones, but the nest at the center.
It was built from enormous strands of fibrous plant material, like a colossal bird's nest, and within it lay a single, massive egg, gleaming pale white, easily over a meter long.
Quill's eyes widened. "Jackpot."
He carefully set his backpack down, pulling free a collapsible black container. Setting the egg inside, he pressed a switch. With a hiss, the container inflated into a protective sphere nearly two meters wide, its interior cushioned by shock-absorbing gel. Perfect for safely smuggling the egg out.
Grunting with effort, Quill rolled the sealed container toward the cave's edge, inch by inch until it reached the cliff overlooking the abyss. One last shove, and it would tumble down to safety.
But then—
RUMBLE!
A thunderous noise shook the mountain beneath his feet. Quill nearly lost his balance, grabbing onto a jagged rock to steady himself. The protective container slipped, rolling uncontrollably down the slope.
Yet Quill hardly noticed. His eyes went wide as the night sky exploded with sound.
ROOOOAAARRR!
The horizon lit up with chaos. Through his night vision, he saw them—hundreds of Mossa Behemoths rising in fury, their massive bodies slamming into the ground, claws tearing into stone, their bellows echoing like thunder. They weren't wandering aimlessly. They were attacking.
But not just anything.
Someone.
Quill's jaw dropped. In the midst of the stampede was a lone figure, shockingly small compared to the monsters, yet moving with effortless grace. Every swing of her fist shattered the air. Each punch sent a colossal Mossa flying, its armored shell cracking under the force, its body crashing back into its kin.
Quill could hardly believe what he was seeing. A woman—yes, he thought it was a woman—facing down an army of monsters that had defeated entire mercenary crews.
"Holy crap…" Quill muttered.
The woman floated lightly above the battlefield, her golden hair whipping around her like a halo. When one of the Mossas leapt at her, she turned, her fist blurring faster than sight, and the beast was launched hundreds of meters back, roaring in pain.
The sheer shockwaves of her strikes split the air, echoing even across kilometers.
Then, disaster.
One of the beasts, launched by her strike, was hurled directly toward Quill's mountain. It crossed ten kilometers in seconds, its shadow swallowing Quill's vision.
His heart stopped. There was no time to run. The monster was larger than a ship, falling straight onto him.
"Damn…" Quill whispered, bracing for death.
But at that instant, the woman fighting far away frowned, sensing something. She tilted her head, avoiding a blast of flame from another beast, her eyes flashing in realization.
"There's someone else here?" she murmured.
And then—she moved.
In a blur of speed that shattered the sound barrier, she vanished from the battlefield. One moment she was there, the next she was stepping off the head of a Mossa, launching herself with impossible force. The sonic boom ripped the sky apart.
A streak of golden light tore across the air, racing toward Quill's cliff.
The falling Mossa loomed overhead, its titanic bulk blotting out the stars. The roar was deafening. Quill squeezed his eyes shut.
But then—
A flash of gold.
When Quill opened his eyes, the massive shadow was gone. Standing before him, slender and radiant, was the woman. Her golden hair streamed like fire, her presence overwhelming yet graceful. For a brief second, Quill thought he was staring at a goddess.
The air smelled faintly of flowers as she raised one hand, her delicate fingers glowing with power.
Her voice, soft and clear like a silver bell, whispered:
"Shield of Seraphim."
And with that, a brilliant barrier of golden light blossomed into existence, shielding Quill from the crushing might of the falling beast.
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