In the distant reaches of space near Planet Xandar, aboard a Ravager vessel, a group of peculiar-looking beings stood by a wide viewport, watching events unfold below. Among them stood a young man in his twenties and a blue-skinned leader with a crimson fin on his head—Star-Lord and Yondu, along with their fellow Ravagers.
They had just left Xandar, not long after Yondu had taken Star-Lord from Kurogai. But the reason they hadn't warped away yet was simple: awe. A Kree fleet had descended on Xandar, and what followed had shattered their understanding of power.
Blinding golden light swept across the cosmos, disintegrating every Kree warship in its path. They had even seen a chunk of Xandar itself—an entire slice of the planet—cleaved clean off as though someone had peeled an orange with a knife. The sight was terrifying.
"Kid… is that monster really one of your kind?" Yondu asked, his voice low and shaky, his face pale.
He couldn't shake the image from his mind—that beam of golden energy slicing through a planet. What if it had gone straight through the core? Would Xandar have split in two like a melon?
Cold sweat ran down his neck. In that moment, he was beyond grateful he hadn't truly offended Kurogai when they first met.
"I'm not even sure myself," Star-Lord muttered, still dazed. "Maybe… maybe he's not human at all."
He couldn't reconcile the sheer force he'd just witnessed with anything human. That was no man.
"So what do you think he is then?" one of Yondu's crew asked.
Silence followed. No one replied, but in their hearts, they shared the same thought:
Maybe… he's a god.
---
Far from the Ravagers' vessel, Kurogai had already cleared out the Kree fleet. Without lingering, he piloted his ship away from the now-scarred world of Xandar. Half a day later, he arrived at the neighboring planet, where an old friend was already waiting.
It was the place he'd agreed to meet Old Ou—a broken man seeking vengeance. Kurogai hadn't forgotten the promise he made: to bring him the head of Ronan the Accuser.
"Hahaha! I did it, my wife… my daughter… do you see? I avenged you!" Old Ou howled in a mix of laughter and tears as he clutched the severed head of Ronan.
Kurogai stood silently, watching him without interrupting.
After a while, he finally asked, "What will you do now?"
"I don't know…" Old Ou admitted, his expression a mix of relief and confusion. "I don't think I'll stay here. My purpose is fulfilled."
His voice carried the weight of a man who had lived too long for vengeance—and now didn't know what to live for.
"Then I hope your path forward is a peaceful one," Kurogai said calmly, turning away.
He didn't say goodbye. He didn't need to. They both knew this was the last time they'd meet. Whatever life Old Ou chose now—whether a return to his homeworld or a quiet retirement on some forgotten world—Kurogai wished him peace.
But his own journey wasn't finished.
---
"By now… it's almost time."
Inside the cockpit of his vessel, Kurogai gazed into the starlit void, his voice low and pensive. Earth was far behind him, and he had spent years traveling far beyond its skies.
Yet before he could return, one final mission remained.
He needed to redirect the attention of Thanos and the Goddess of Death. To protect Earth, he had to vanish from its reach—divert their gaze toward a distant region of the galaxy.
"Auto-navigation, activate. Initiate wormhole jump. Destination: outermost edge of the Southern Cross Arm."
The Milky Way spiraled like a galactic whirlpool. Earth was nestled in the Orion Arm. The Southern Cross Arm lay on the opposite side—remote, desolate, and far from any populated system.
Perfect.
With a hum, the ship's engines flared to life. Moments later, it vanished into hyperspace.
---
Eventually, Kurogai emerged in a sector consumed by darkness, untouched and untraveled—a boundary between known space and the unknown.
"This is far enough," he muttered, stepping from the console.
He moved to the airlock and opened the hatch. No suit. No armor. No shielding.
He stepped directly into the vacuum.
Instantly, frost coated his skin. The harsh rays of space should've frozen him solid, but instead—a pale blue flame ignited across his body.
It defied logic.
In a place where nothing should burn, this celestial flame surged outward. It swirled from his feet to his chest, until it engulfed him completely.
Then it grew.
The blaze expanded, stretching across the sector like a tidal wave of sapphire light, illuminating the blackness with divine fire. It spread, pulsing with life.
And from its heart, something emerged.
A bird—no, a Phoenix.
Massive, radiant, divine.
Its wingspan rivaled moons. Its eyes shimmered with cosmic judgment. It hovered in the blue sea of fire, godlike and serene, towering over entire star fields.
The Phoenix Force—reborn once more.
The bird let out a cry. A deafening, soul-shaking screech that tore across the stars. It echoed through time and space, reaching worlds and realms far beyond.
A proclamation to the universe:
The Phoenix lives again.
And with it, every corner of the cosmos would soon feel the tremor of awakening.
---