Six months later.
Peter parked his car and faced Smallville Square.
The entire square seemed to be bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun.
Citizens paused to observe as a drop of orange fruit nectar blended into the milkshake-colored ocean—drinking, singing, watching small performances, and buying all the cheap and utterly worthless trinkets they could find.
Well-trained cats performed pantomimes, pirates juggled rum bottles, and extraordinary individuals breathed great plumes of fire. Others, stretched like taffy, showcased their strength by lifting heavy barbells.
The annual Harvest Festival had drawn nearly everyone in town.
Peter, along with John and Star-Lord, had come to join the festivities.
It was Star-Lord's first time attending, and he was brimming with excitement, curiously taking in everything around him.
As Peter walked forward, he glanced down at his wristwatch.
The hands of the watch crept closer to their final destination.
According to his calculations, in about a week, the third baby would arrive.
What kind of child would the system send this time?A boy or a girl?
He was hoping for a magician. That way, he wouldn't be so helpless when facing witches or enemies like Lucifer.
However…He had already investigated. There had been no meteor showers in Kansas for the past month.
Could it be that this upcoming meteor shower wouldn't be detected by weather systems?
Peter stared at the hands of his watch, lost in thought.
"Hey, Uncle Patrick!"
Deep in contemplation, he suddenly heard a voice greeting him.
Looking up, he saw Lana and Nell.
Lana, dressed in a green dress, had grown even taller in the past six months. Her slender figure made her stand out.
"Good morning, Peter," Nell greeted him.
"Good morning, Nell. And Lana."
Peter returned the greeting.
"Star-Lord seems to have lost weight recently," Nell remarked with a smile, ruffling Star-Lord's hair.
Receiving a compliment, Star-Lord proudly puffed out his chest.
But after taking one glance at his still protruding belly, his confidence deflated like a punctured balloon.
"Ahem…"
Peter noticed Star-Lord's crushed expression and thought to himself, Well, that was the wrong thing to say.
"How's business at the Talon Club lately?"
Peter quickly changed the subject, asking Nell about the bar.
"So-so," Nell shrugged. "But considering how business has been slow all over town lately, the bar is actually doing alright."
As Peter continued chatting with Nell and Lana, Star-Lord and John sneaked off.
In the crowded square, Star-Lord spotted a sign: Fortune Telling – Know Your Future.
Remembering how the last fortune teller had predicted he would choke to death, curiosity got the better of him.
Determined, he glanced toward the owner of the sign.
It was a woman with a gypsy headscarf wrapped around her head.
When she saw Star-Lord approach, she said, "Hey, kid, sorry, I'm not open yet!"
"That's okay. I'll pay you," Star-Lord replied confidently.
He waved a ten-dollar bill in his hand. "You can read my… omen, or my cards, or sniff my pheromones, or whatever it is you do."
The woman shrugged, as if it required no effort on her part to reach the desired outcome.
"Alright, I'm convinced by your money."
She sat cross-legged, lifting a tie-dye cloth that covered a crystal ball. Then, she opened a carved wooden box and pulled out a deck of tarot cards.
A Death card stood upright. The card depicted a figure in a black cloak, holding a long scythe, reaping wheat. Behind the mask was a jaggedly carved wooden skull.
"You can call me Miss Hanna. I can tell your fortune through this crystal ball," she told Star-Lord. "Or, I can read your cards, or your palm. The choice is yours, kid."
"I'm fine with anything," Star-Lord said, tossing the ten-dollar bill toward her.
That was most of his allowance, and it hurt a little to part with it.
The bleach-blonde woman took the bill with practiced ease and picked up her tarot cards.
Then, she pulled out a small satchel. Star-Lord wrinkled his nose at the overpowering herbal stench.
"This is a purification pouch," she explained. "I've filled it with sage, angelica, and fennel—"
Mid-sentence, she suddenly gasped dramatically, staring at Star-Lord in shock.
"You are in grave danger, kid."
Her expression turned tense, and Star-Lord swallowed nervously.
She cleared her throat and shuffled the tarot deck before handing it to him.
"Cut the deck, kid."
At the edge of the square, the sun had melted into a sticky orange gasoline line pooling at the horizon.
Feeling a little anxious, Star-Lord swallowed and carefully split the deck in half, reversing one of the piles before placing it back.
The gypsy woman took the chosen pile and spread the cards out.
"This is the Celtic Cross spread—"
"What does that mean?" Star-Lord asked, puzzled.
The woman flipped over the first card.
"Seven of Wands," she announced in a mysterious tone.
The card depicted a man with curled hair standing on a hilltop, holding a staff, surrounded by what looked like gnarled wooden prison bars. The staff resembled the limb of a cave-dwelling creature.
"What does that mean?" Star-Lord asked.
"This means you're about to face tremendous difficulties from all directions—"
Star-Lord thought for a moment and said, "Dad always says that everyone faces great difficulties. That's what people mean when they say, 'Hey, look, this is reality.' We're all surrounded by things we hate and by our own shortcomings."
He didn't think it was a big deal.
"Uh..."
The woman paused briefly, then flipped over the next card.
The card depicted a goddess gazing up at a pentacle floating above a meadow, with a flock of sheep grazing nearby.
"Pentacles."
The Gypsy woman's eyes widened in surprise, as if Star-Lord had just won some kind of metaphysical lottery. "When you encounter hardships in life, hope and faith will be with you. You'll find yourself embracing optimism, just like this goddess embraces the star-filled sky."
Star-Lord felt that this card rather accurately described his life.
He looked at the woman and said, "Whenever I face hardships, my dad is usually with me."
The Gypsy woman was taken aback. She hadn't expected this chubby little boy to have such a clear understanding of life.
Then, she turned over the final card.
Star-Lord stared at it in surprise and asked, "What is this card?"
The card showed a young boy, his feet bound, hanging upside down from a tree, swinging slightly.
"This is The Hanged Man," she explained. "It represents moments of hardship, suffering, and helplessness. It means that a powerful setback awaits you."
Star-Lord: ".!"
On the drive back from the festival, Peter glanced at the sullen Star-Lord and asked, "Something on your mind?"
"He went for a fortune reading," John chimed in from the side, ratting him out. "Dad, Star-Lord is practically a seasoned fortune-teller himself now."
"I am not!"
Star-Lord quickly defended himself. "I just— Dad, I just wanted to see if she could confirm whether I'd succeed in losing weight."
"And what did she say?"
"She didn't answer directly. She just said I'd face a setback, and that it'd be dangerous."
"She really said that?"
Peter was taken aback.
Scaring kids like that—seriously? Did she think he wouldn't go flip her table over?
"That's not real, Star-Lord," Peter reassured him. "These so-called psychics? They just look at some cards and give the most generic interpretations possible. It wouldn't matter if it were tarot cards, a fancy-looking crystal ball, or even reading the lines on your palm—it's all the same vague nonsense."
"Dad, I'm not scared."
Star-Lord looked at him and said earnestly, "Because I know you'll help me. As long as we trust each other, no setback can take us down."
A little bit of flattery never hurt, after all.
"That's what I like to hear."
Peter ruffled Star-Lord's hair affectionately.
John, who was leaning against the car window, rolled his eyes and let out a small huff at the sight.
That night, Peter, Star-Lord, and John sat down for dinner together.
Recently, the Martian Manhunter had been busy searching for a spaceship in the Arctic. On top of that, he had met another Martian, which meant he was spending even less time on the farm than usual.
Suddenly—
The ground shook violently, making the tableware clatter and topple over.
A bottle of juice tipped over, its contents about to spill—
But in the blink of an eye, John snatched it up with lightning-fast reflexes.
"Dad…"
Star-Lord, mid-bite, swallowed nervously and looked up at the swaying ceiling.
"Was that an earthquake?"
Despite the tremor, he wasn't particularly worried. Whether it was his father or John, he believed that even if the house collapsed, they would all be fine.
Then—
BOOM!
Before Peter could respond, a deep, thunderous impact rang out.
A cloud of dust billowed into the room from the courtyard, as if something had just crashed onto the farm.
Peter immediately moved toward the yard, with John and Star-Lord following close behind at top speed.
The moment they stepped outside, Peter's attention was drawn to something unexpected—
A towering, lush ash tree had suddenly appeared in the courtyard.
Its presence was surreal, as if it had always been there. It radiated an aura that was almost impossible to look at directly.
Peter blinked.
In an instant, the tree looked completely ordinary again.
...
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