Keisha took the lead in charging, her celestial armor shimmering like the Asgardian Uru metal, while the Angelic host followed in formation, much like the disciplined ranks of the Nova Corps. Their goal was clear—eradicate the heretics who dared defy the will of the Almighty.
"Let their bones serve as a monument to divine judgment," Keisha declared, her wings unfurling like the energy projections of the Shi'ar Imperial Guard.
Angel Leng secured her battle helmet, its golden surface reflecting the cosmic glow of distant explosions, and closed the mask with a casual, deliberate motion. "They have finally come," she intoned, her voice echoing with the cold certainty of Hela herself.
"This time, we leave no survivors," Angel whispered, a slight smile playing on her lips, though the malice in her tone rivaled the ruthless decree of Thanos.
Angel Yan remained silent, gripping her Celestial-forged blade—a weapon that seemed to hum with the raw energy of the Power Cosmic itself. Positioned directly behind Keisha, she was the vanguard of divine retribution.
"Are they insane?" a burly marauder muttered, wiping his bald head, his frustration evident.
"Our plan was to encircle them like Ronan's Accusers and force their surrender, not engage in outright war," another growled, referencing the original strategy of the Marauders, a notorious band of intergalactic raiders.
"They're beyond reason," Justice Starka stated coolly, his demeanor as calculating as Doctor Doom assessing his enemies. "Target their leader. Decapitate the serpent, and the body will wither."
"Their strength only matters if they live. If they're too much trouble—kill them." Starka's leadership was momentary, but in the heat of battle, he commanded with the ruthless efficiency of a Kree Supreme Intelligence.
The Marauders let out a chorus of roars, their war cry echoing across the battlefield as they opened fire. Energy cannons and plasma bursts streaked toward the advancing Angels, their trajectories painting the sky like the orchestrated assault of the Annihilation Wave.
Keisha and her three high-ranking Angels became the primary targets. Their celestial forms darted through the chaos, weaving between barrages of missiles and plasma bolts with the effortless precision of Carol Danvers in deep-space dogfights.
Below them, mid- and low-level Angels struggled to break through, pinned down by relentless shelling and an overwhelming number of Marauder attack ships. Their formation wavered, reminiscent of the Xandarian fleets overwhelmed by Thanos' Chitauri army.
Despite their dwindling numbers, the high-ranking Angels tore through the enemy's defenses. Spacecraft shattered in their wake, igniting the battlefield in cascading waves of flame, reminiscent of the cosmic infernos unleashed by the Phoenix Force.
Starka, seeing the tide turning, signaled his strongest warriors. Every notable Marauder commander—each powerful in their own right, whether through genetic enhancements, alien technology, or sheer skill—launched their counteroffensive.
Yondu Udonta's mastery over his Yaka arrow had once rivaled even the most skilled assassins, and similarly, these leaders wielded their deadly talents. Starka, himself a formidable warrior, engaged Keisha directly. His combat style was seamless, blending firearms with precision strikes, akin to how Star-Lord combined his blasters with acrobatic melee techniques. With the aid of Icehead, he kept Keisha at bay, though barely.
A monstrous Marauder, his physique rivaling the likes of Drax the Destroyer, faced off against Angel Leng. His massive sword carved through the void, but it failed to land a decisive blow, his opponent's celestial armor repelling every strike like Vibranium against conventional steel. Blood seeped from countless wounds across his body, yet his relentless endurance—akin to the Hulk's unnatural resilience—allowed him to endure.
"Annoying brute," Angel Leng muttered as she drove another deep cut across his chest. "I should've brought a blade forged in the heart of a dying star for this."
Elsewhere, Angel pursued a Marauder with Ice-based abilities, a rare skill reminiscent of Loki's Jotun heritage. The freezing energy slowed Angel's movements, but she adapted, countering with bursts of divine heat akin to the Human Torch's Nova Flame. The battlefield became a delicate balance of ice and fire, neither side relenting.
Angel Yan clashed with a cybernetically enhanced Marauder known as the Skinner, his modifications similar to Nebula's brutal upgrades. His speed was unnaturally fast, his metal claws capable of flaying flesh at an atomic level—yet Yan was faster.
Though his armor rivaled the durability of Adamantium, her sword cleaved through it like a blade of enchanted Uru. The battlefield echoed with the shriek of metal on metal as their duel escalated, neither combatant yielding ground.
Despite their initial momentum, the lower-ranking Angels were faltering. The Marauders' superior numbers were taking their toll, their energy blasts and missiles overwhelming the celestial forces.
"Starka, help me!" the Skinner screamed, his enhancements failing him as Angel Yan pressed her advantage.
Starka turned but found himself unable to disengage from Keisha. He grimaced, torn between loyalty and survival. With a final glance at the Skinner—whose dismembered remains now floated amidst the debris—he barked out his next order.
"Enough restraint! Wipe out the low-tier Angels first. Then we'll focus our full strength on the elites!"
Above them, the massive warships of the Marauders began adjusting their main cannons, their weapons locking onto the Angelic legions below. The moment of annihilation was near.