Chapter 867: Brilliant Stars (Nine)

From the beautiful scenery of the Andromeda Galaxy's great nebula, to the thick smoke of the Centaurus Millennium War, from Asgard's glorious era of conquering the cosmos, to the gradual cessation of warfare among the Nine Realms.

Though Sif had never witnessed Odin leading the gods to carve out Asgard's empire, she had once traveled with Asgard's mighty fleet across every corner of the universe, seeing countless civilizations shining with stars.

As a race that can easily live for thousands of years, their knowledge and experience are beyond comparison with short-lived species whose lifespans span only decades; in the past, Sif could have proudly said, what grand spectacle hadn't she seen?

But this scene—she had never seen anything like it.

She had long known that humans were a race exceptionally skilled at building bombs, their minds filled entirely with bombs, bombs, and even bigger bombs.

They had even built their industrial foundation upon bombs, relentlessly advancing along the path of bomb-making, surpassing themselves until they succeeded in creating super-bombs capable of destroying their own race dozens of times over.

Yet this situation still exceeded Sif's expectations—she had not imagined that humans didn't just want bombs capable of destroying themselves dozens of times over, but bombs capable of destroying their future selves thousands upon thousands of times.

Sif understood that early space civilizations, unable to manage excessive space debris, chose to discard it far away, planning to deal with it later when they gained the capability; Asgard had begun the same way.

Their ships were not always this powerful; the earliest warships were not only weaker than today's but far more difficult to build, with dwarves wasting countless materials daily—some could be recycled in giant furnaces, others had no choice but to be dumped in open space.

At first, Asgardians thought: the universe is so vast, what harm could a little debris do? Even if I built a ship, could it possibly collide with one?

But reality proved that once spacecraft technology matured and faster-than-light travel was no longer an issue, they discovered the universe was far from empty—it was, in fact, extremely crowded; a slight misstep in route planning could easily lead to collisions with celestial bodies.

Asgardians rarely suffered serious consequences from space traffic accidents, since their interstellar warfare consisted of boarding actions—climbing directly onto enemy ship shields and slashing wildly, charging forward under cannon fire.

Early space debris had still caused considerable trouble for their fleet; Sif had heard her uncle say that most early fleet accidents were caused by Asgard's own discarded debris.

But actual casualties were light—even if they collided, the worst outcome was just returning home to rest for a few days.

But humans were different; their fragile bodies couldn't withstand even a single small meteorite strike in early spacecraft—such impacts were fatal.

Once a ship was destroyed, they couldn't endure injuries and fly hundreds of light-years home like Asgardians could with sheer physical resilience.

Sif stood frozen for nearly a minute, then roared: "HUMANS!!!! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MINDS????"

"Quick, quick, connect me to S. . . . . ...." Sif began gasping for breath, her chest heaving violently—clearly furious.

The crew immediately calmed her: "Princess Sif, please calm down, don't anger yourself—we've seen human madness before, I'll call their official organization right away..."

The crew pulled out a communicator and dialed for a long time, then said angrily: "What's going on? None of these numbers on the contact list are answering—who are they all doing?"

"Call the Sanctum Sanctorum!!!" Sif shouted. "They call us with sales pitches nonstop! Now when we need them, are they just gone?!"

The crew picked up the communicator again; after a moment, he said: "Hello? Is this the Sorcerer Supreme? We're members of the Asgardian patrol fleet, accompanying Princess Sif to maintain order in the Nine Realms—oh, and also cleaning up the Nine Realms..."

"We've detected excessive space debris within the Solar System—what's going on?... Space technology experiencing explosive growth? Even so, you can't... Oh, Princess Sif, Princess Sif!"

Sif snatched the phone and yelled into it: "Strange!! Are you all insane?! You're launching so much debris into space—don't you care how your own future spacecraft will navigate?!"

"... es, I know, when space technology explodes in growth, production capacity is paramount; in a sense, developing spacecraft is brute-forcing it—throw enough junk, eventually you'll find the right answer—but you still have to consider the future..."

"What? If you can't reach Mercury this year, there's no future?? Why are you in such a rush? Your lifespan is short, but you don't need to reach Mercury within a year!!"

"So what's your plan? The density of this debris—I'm afraid it'll disrupt the orbital paths of your planets—and you think it's fine?! You're all mad!"

Hearing the response, Sif sighed: "Alright, I understand—you started late, face many problems, Earth's conditions are uniquely favorable, and many eyes are watching you—you must accelerate development..."

Sif pinched her brow and continued: "I'm currently inside the Solar System—I have two escort ships here, and I can send three more shortly—we can help you clean up, but you must realize this can't go on forever..."

"Forget it—even if I told the Allfather, he'd think the same thing—who else but the Nine Realms' own people?... Yes, he sees great potential in you... Enough with this talk of favors—I, Asgard, don't wallow in sentimentality like humans do..."

"By the way, to prevent us from damaging your vital equipment during cleanup, you should evacuate all your devices first... What? They've all landed on planetary surfaces? You don't need anything floating in space?... Got it. Goodbye."

After hanging up, Sif turned to the escort fleet's captain: "Bring three more escort ships—we'll clean this place up together."

She shook her head helplessly: "When humans experience technological explosions, they only think about launching equipment upward; by the time they notice the debris pile-up, it's already too late—and they probably have no way to clean it themselves, waiting for us to clean up their mess."

"Who are they if not the most promising race among the Nine Realms? Come on—destroy all the floating debris, be careful not to hit anything on the planetary surfaces..."

On S. . . . . .'s Sky-Carrier, Nick Fury stared through a special telescope at the brilliant streaks flashing through space.

The escort ships executed a sharp turn—"whoosh"—a dazzling laser shot from their side-mounted cannons, shattering a massive space debris sphere into nothingness.

Nick clicked his tongue: "Regardless of anything else, Asgard's weapons are incredibly convenient—have you ever considered selling arms?"

Loki, sitting on the sofa, swirled his wineglass: "Even if Asgard gave you our weapons, you couldn't use them—energy, energy, and more energy."

"What about the Arc Reactor?" Nick asked, still watching.

Loki sighed: "Though I don't fully understand this, having just one or two advanced components in spacecraft design doesn't help."

"For example, warships are for combat—if you feed Arc Reactor energy into Asgard's cannons, first you need safeguards for the Arc Reactor—you can't expect your cannon to hit every enemy aiming to destroy your power source, can you? What if you miss?"

"Second, you need technology to conceal the energy transmission lines from enemy scanning devices—if the enemy cuts your wires, your warship becomes useless."

"Third, you need sufficient maneuverability—in interstellar warfare, no one stands still to be targeted; even less advanced civilizations using chemical-fuel ships compete over who can flee faster."

Finally, you need to scan enemy weaknesses—accompanying reconnaissance technology, and sometimes the main ship's scanning range is insufficient, requiring dedicated scout ships, which need scout robots, which need anti-trap devices...

Nick covered his forehead: "Stop—I have a headache."

Loki shrugged: "Actually, humans are already on easy mode—perhaps even too lucky."

"Your homeworld is highly habitable—you barely need to modify it, just maintain core stability for longevity, but that's billions of years away."

"Your rotation and revolution speeds are ideal, your planetary shield is easy to maintain, resources are abundant and nearby, and your sun is a natural energy source."

"Even more absurd—you produced the Iron Demigod, who universalized technology, while the Sorcerer Supreme leads high-precision magic, protected externally by Asgard and internally by the Iron Curtain—no other civilization dares dream this."

Loki stood, clapped Nick on the shoulder, stood beside him, and said: "You think mutants are a big problem—but in other civilizations, such matters wouldn't even make the front page of the city newspaper."

"I once saw a civilization on the verge of leaving its star system—then its homeworld cluster plunged into extreme cold; for the next thousand years, every headline was about another furnace explosion, another city losing half its population—everyone grew used to it..."

"Other civilizations suffered industrial accidents, their atmospheres poisoned; others saw their planets' lifespans collapse, forcing relocation..."

"Some lost their stars, others suffered planetary collisions, sudden bodily mutations, or entire species struck by inexplicable fatal diseases—most civilizations struggle desperately just to survive."

"Humans are greenhouse flowers—only when you never worry about food or drink can you afford so many disputes and the philosophical debates they spark."

"If survival itself is a daily struggle, you won't waste time arguing over X-gene."

Nick smiled and said: "Your description of these disasters reminds me of one race..."

He and Loki exchanged glances, then both broke into knowing smiles, speaking in unison:

"Sulfur Dwarves."