Proxima Midnight leaped into the air, the longsword in her hand gleaming with a chilling light as it thrust straight at Rocket's head.
Rocket widened his eyes at her movement. After a moment of surprise, a mocking curve rose at the corner of his mouth.
Tree vines as thick as barrels tore through the air and slammed heavily into her.
Proxima Midnight took the blow. Her weapon fell to the ground, and her body flew uncontrollably backward toward the undead army.
"Nice one, Groot." Rocket gave him a thumbs-up.
"I am Groot!"
Proxima Midnight knocked several undead soldiers off their feet, but before she could react, even more undead soldiers swallowed her up.
Without her weapon and stuck in an extremely disadvantageous position, she could only hastily dodge the descending blades. For a moment, she was in constant peril.
Seeing this, Ebony Maw immediately charged forward.
His strange long blade whirled continuously. Even at the cost of taking a slash to the shoulder, he forcibly dragged Proxima Midnight out of the undead soldiers' encirclement.
"She still isn't dead? What a tough life!" Rocket said regretfully.
"I'll kill you."
"Calm down, Proxima," Ebony Maw hurriedly soothed his wife. "If we kill him now, we'll die even faster."
Proxima Midnight glared at Rocket with murderous, hate-filled eyes, but she still quickly picked up her weapon and helped maintain the fragile defensive line.
There was a reason she wanted Rocket dead so badly. She and Ebony Maw had been carefully lying low in Asgard, and even the Asgardian warriors had been unable to do anything to them.
Asgard was in a special situation right now. The Goddess of Death, Hela, was like a slumbering dragon that no one dared wake.
But that idiot Rocket had flown his ship straight into the inner city.