Marvel: AS A PRINCE IN ASGARD

Oh? Are you threatening me?"

lips curled in contempt. "I do not tolerate threats."

The Skinner's panicked eyes darted back and forth as he registered Ragna 's lack of concern. Thinking quickly, he cried out,

"At least let me go! I swear, I will never stand against you again!"

"Skinner, you dare to break your oath?" Starka roared, his voice seething with fury.

"Relax," Ragna said smoothly, tilting his head. "You want to self-destruct?"

"I'll help you."

With a casual flick of his right hand, a surge of shimmering blue energy shot forth, forcefully triggering the detonation sequence within the Skinner's cybernetic core.

The unstable Kree-designed energy core within his chest began pulsing erratically, glowing an intense crimson. The Skinner's expression contorted in horror. He hadn't actually intended to trigger the detonation.

"Stop it! Stop it! Save me!" he shrieked, his mechanical enhancements whirring in protest.

The Marauder leaders instinctively recoiled, putting distance between themselves and the doomed cyborg.

The Skinner's desperate cries twisted into a maniacal cackle. Realizing there was no way to halt the countdown, he spread his arms wide in one final act of defiance.

"Hahaha! Fine! If I die, I'll take you all with me!"

A deafening explosion erupted. The core, designed to obliterate entire capital ships, unleashed a crimson shockwave that should have reduced everything in its radius to atoms.

But Ragna , utterly unmoved, simply waved his hand.

The blue energy of the Space Stone flared, instantly forming a multilayered barrier that caught the explosion, compressing its force into itself. The raw destructive energy, powerful enough to melt through Vibranium, was systematically broken down, layer by layer, until nothing remained.

Once the spectacle ended, Ragna 's piercing gaze swept over the remaining Marauders.

"Impressive firepower," he mused, his voice cold. "Pity it only claimed one life."

He took a step forward, the space around him distorting slightly as if bending to his will. His next words were laced with an unshakable finality.

"Does anyone else wish to join him?"

Starka, his face impassive, exchanged glances with Grim Girl and the Giant.

Their faction had always prided itself on freedom—choosing their own paths, fighting their own wars. But this? This was a force beyond their comprehension.

The choice between death and survival was not difficult.

"We surrender," Starka said first, lowering his head in submission.

Grim Girl followed without hesitation, the Giant nodding silently beside her.

The remaining Marauders, seeing their leaders bow, quickly followed suit.

Only a handful of stubborn fools refused.

Ragna didn't bother with further warnings. With a mere flick of his fingers, the defiant Marauders were erased, their bodies twisting into nothingness.

And then, as the last whispers of rebellion faded, something subtle—something even Ragna could not immediately perceive—rippled through the battlefield.

A silent wave passed over the surrendering Marauders. For the briefest of moments, a flicker of confusion danced in their eyes—then clarity.

Then, as one, every single Marauder, including Starka, dropped to a knee.

"I pledge my life," Starka declared, his voice unwavering. "I surrender all to the Supreme Lord."

A slow smile spread across Ragna 's face.

At that moment, the four great Marauder factions—53,823 soldiers in total—became his.

Inside the Celestial Throne Room of the Sacred Heavenly Palace, Ragna sat upon a throne that radiated a presence akin to the Asgardian All-Father's seat of power.

Before him stood his highest-ranking Angels, the Marauder leaders, and the Valkyrie, Valina.

Ragna had originally planned to spend a decade on Angel Star, slowly building his Angel Legion before launching full-scale expansion. But with the influx of thousands of newly acquired warriors and the system's generous rewards, he no longer needed to wait.

The Andromeda Galaxy, once filled with the Skrull Empire's influence, was now a chaotic battlefield. With their rulers and patrons gone, countless subordinate civilizations had been left defenseless, prey to Kree warlords, scattered Marauder factions, and opportunistic raiders.

Ragna , ever the tactician, presented them with a choice.

To those who were desperate, struggling to survive amidst relentless invasions, his offer was simple:

Submit. Be protected. Worship.

And so, like a divine miracle, Angels descended from the heavens.

Golden-winged warriors, radiant with celestial energy, would arrive at the brink of destruction, obliterating raiders and invaders alike with overwhelming force.

Then, in the aftermath, a singular proposition was made to the rescued civilizations.

A sacred contract.

A promise of protection.

All they needed to do was construct temples. Recite the Angelic scriptures daily. Worship once a week.

A trivial price to pay for salvation.

Against the looming threat of annihilation, the choice was obvious.

And yet, whispers of doubt lingered in the shadows. Some noticed peculiar things—priests bearing too striking a resemblance to the very raiders who once attacked them.

But doubt was blasphemy.

To question the Supreme Lord's will was heresy.

And heresy… was punished by fire.

Across the galaxy, one civilization after another capitulated.

Rapid assimilation. Forced conversions.

Opposition was swiftly crushed.

Predators and hostile warlords, one by one, found themselves kneeling in submission.

Angel Star became the heart of it all, an ever-expanding empire fueled by faith, raw power, and Ragna 's mastery over space itself.

The Space Stone, coupled with naturally occurring wormholes, allowed his forces to move with unparalleled efficiency, appearing where least expected.

Three years.

That was all it took for the Sacred Heavenly Palace to consume most of the Andromeda Galaxy and claim territories once belonging to the Skrulls.

The Kree Empire barely had time to react.

For centuries, the Kree and Skrulls had waged war, locked in an eternal struggle. The Skrulls had finally fallen, and the Kree believed themselves victorious.

But now, an unknown power had emerged, devouring their spoils of war at an alarming rate.

This was not merely expansion.

This was provocation.

To the Kree, Angel Star was a blight, a challenger to their rightful dominance.

Unacceptable.

And so, war became inevitable.

But while the Kree plotted, Angel Star flourished.

Pilgrims from across the universe traveled unfathomable distances to make their way to the celestial capital.

Among them were the most devout—those whose unwavering faith allowed them to transcend their mortal forms.

Through the Reincarnation Pool, these saints were reborn as Angels.

Their newfound strength was limited by their past lives, yet even the weakest of them were comparable to the Aesir of Asgard.

And as the universe's faith grew, so too did Ragna 's legions.

Angel Star was no longer just a capital.

It was the beacon of an empire.

An empire that would soon extend its grasp beyond the Andromeda Galaxy…

And toward the very heart of Kree space.