While the others immersed themselves in the vibrant chaos of Sakaar, Ben and Caiera descended into the quiet depths beneath the Totem Tower, arriving at the newly established vault of the Plumbers. This subterranean chamber was Sakaar's equivalent to Odin's Treasure Room, a fortified repository for the most powerful and dangerous artifacts they acquired.
For now, it was sparsely populated. Sakaar's new golden age was still in its infancy, and its collection was small. Aside from the Infinity Stone resting in their containment fields—only one other object occupied the cavernous space.
Ben deactivated the nanite shell around the Power Stone, placing the raw, pulsating gem onto its designated pedestal. As the containment field flared to life, he turned to Caiera. "Find some time to have Brunnhilde deliver the Destroyer to Nidavellir. Odin has agreed to have the dwarves reforge the armor for us." It was one of the key concessions he had secured during his last visit to Asgard.
"I will see to it," Caiera confirmed with a nod.
As Ben turned to leave, his eyes caught the other artifact resting in the gloom: the Casket of Ancient Winters. A faint frost clung to the air around its pedestal.
Noticing his gaze, Caiera offered an explanation. "Loki brought it here himself. He insisted it be stored in the vault."
"Why?" Ben asked, genuinely curious. The Casket was different from Thor's hammer; it was an artifact of Loki's heritage, a symbol of his Frost Giant ancestry. Ben had given it to him on Earth with no intention of ever reclaiming it.
A faint smile touched Caiera's lips. "He said it was because you and Queen Looma conquered Jotunheim. In his words, you are not only the King of Sakaar, but also the subjugator of the Frost Giants. The Casket, therefore, is your trophy—proof of their defeat."
The logic traced back to Looma's brutal campaign on the frozen realm. When she was ambushed by Corvus Glaive and Proxima Midnight, Ben had intervened. After eliminating the two Children of Thanos, he had forcefully brought the warring clans of Jotunheim to heel, ending their civil war and imposing his own order. In the eyes of the universe, that was an act of conquest.
Besides, Ben suspected Loki had little desire to hold onto a relic that represented a past he was so desperate to escape. If he didn't want it, Ben saw no reason to argue. He let the matter drop.
He and Caiera walked back toward the surface, the ambient hum of the tower growing louder. Along the way, she delivered a concise report on the state of the planet.
"The retrofitting of the Korbinite flagship is proceeding ahead of schedule," she stated. "The addition of Kree technology from the captured dreadnought has provided our engineers with invaluable schematics."
The task of integrating three vastly different technological systems—Tetramand, Korbinite, and Kree—was monumental, but with Beta Ray Bill's engineering corps and the Sakaaran people's innate talent for scavenging and adaptation, progress was swift.
"The Plumbers' ranks are also swelling," she continued. "We have instituted a formal ranking system, similar to Earth's S.H.I.E.L.D. Recruits begin as cadet and must pass a series of assessments to become Level 1 Plumbers. The highest rank is Level 10, and only those who achieve it are eligible for consideration as Agent."
"And the numbers?"
"The total number of official members has reached seventy thousand," Caiera reported.
It was a respectable number but felt small for a force meant to protect an entire sector. Sakaar's population was limited, and conscripting every citizen wasn't a viable solution for a galactic conflict. Quality, technology, and strategy would matter far more than raw numbers.
"We need to focus on enhancing our warriors' strength, not just increasing their numbers," Ben mused aloud. An idea sparked in his mind. "In the galaxy, there is a planet called Klyntar. It is home to a symbiotic species I've encountered before. We should attempt to form an alliance."
He paused, recalling his experiences. "They are a noble race. They call themselves the Agent of the Cosmos, and their mission to bring order to the universe aligns with our own." The power of a symbiote, when bonded with a worthy host, was undeniable. If we could forge a partnership with the Klyntar, it would be a force multiplier for the Plumbers.
"I will dispatch a diplomatic envoy immediately," Caiera said, already planning the logistics of an intergalactic mission.
Meanwhile, countless light-years away, Ronan the Accuser, convinced he wielded the unbridled power of an Infinity Stone, was marshaling his forces for the final, glorious assault on Xandar. The recent humiliation on Morag—the loss of a capital ship and the impudent interference of a handful of unknowns—was a trivial matter. Revenge was all that mattered now. Once Xandar burned, he would hunt down those responsible and make them pay.
He never got the chance. Before his fleet could even leave the Morag system, a shadow fell over them. It was a ship of impossible scale, a flying fortress of black metal that dwarfed his entire armada.
The Sanctuary II had arrived.
It was the flagship of Thanos, the Mad Titan. Upon its decks, countless worlds had drawn their last breath. Its appearance in the skies of any planet was a death knell, a terror that even the three great empires—the Kree, the Nova, and the Shi'ar—dared not confront directly.
The ambition that had swelled within Ronan's chest, fueled by the violet glow of the "Power Stone," instantly deflated. The fantasy of turning on Thanos after destroying Xandar, of using the Titan's death to restore the Kree Empire to its former glory, evaporated like mist in the sun. His brief, bloody battle with Ben had been a sobering reminder that wielding a gem and mastering it were two different things. He couldn't even unleash its full potential.
Now, faced with the master he had planned to betray, all that remained was a cold, pragmatic fear.
Hatchways opened, and swarms of Outriders poured from the Sanctuary II, securing a docking bridge between the two ships. Ronan, flanked by his elite guard, marched grimly across. He finally laid eyes on the being known as Thanos.
Cosmically speaking, Thanos was not physically remarkable. At just over two meters tall, he wasn't even the largest of his kind. But those who knew his history understood the terror that lay beneath his purple skin.
Led by the dark acolytes, Ronan was brought before the Titan's throne. He found himself drenched in a nervous sweat, his hands slick against the haft of his Universal Weapon. The power he held no longer felt like a guarantee of victory, but merely a ticket to this audience.
"Thanos," Ronan began, forcing his voice to remain steady. "You wanted the Power Stone. I will give it to you, but our agreement…" He decided to cut his losses. Fighting Thanos here, even if he stood a chance, would only benefit his true enemies on Xandar. It was better to hand over the prize and ensure his revenge.
Thanos did not immediately respond. He sat slumped on his throne, his massive fist propping up his chin, his eyelids heavy. He looked weary, yet his presence filled the chamber with an ancient, suffocating pressure.
After a long, tense silence, he spoke, his voice a low rumble. "Where are my daughters?"
The question caught Ronan completely off guard. If Nebula had been there, she might have wept to hear him use the plural. But Ronan only felt confusion. Were Gamora and Nebula truly more important than an Infinity Stone? This was the being who had culled entire civilizations, who had slaughtered his own scattered descendants across the galaxy without a shred of remorse. To show such concern for two adopted daughters seemed… absurd.
He had no desire to involve himself in the Titan's family drama. "We were attacked," he answered truthfully. "Gamora and Nebula are missing. I do not know the identity of our assailants, only that their emblem was a circular device, black and green, in the shape of an hourglass."
Thanos's eyes narrowed. He knew the symbol. The Plumbers. This upstart organization, which had seemed to appear from nowhere, had thwarted him at every turn. Four of his Black Order were dead. Supergiant was captured. And now, Gamora and Nebula had fallen into their hands.
The only sliver of good news was…
Thanos's gaze finally settled on Ronan's war hammer, or more specifically, on the incandescent gem embedded within it. The raw energy pouring from it was immense, the light brilliant. There was no doubt in his mind; this was the Power Stone he had sought for so long.
He stood, rising from his throne, and walked toward the Kree zealot. His shadow fell over Ronan, a cloak of absolute authority.
Ronan bowed his head, defeated. He raised his Universal Weapon high above his head, presenting it as an offering.
Thanos took the hammer. He studied the legendary Kree weapon for a moment, then, with a sneer of utter disdain, he plucked the glowing stone from its setting with his bare fingers and tossed the hammer aside. It clattered to the floor, the sound echoing in the cavernous throne room.
No one paid it any mind. All eyes were fixed on the gem.
The violet energy, which had been so volatile for Ronan, washed over Thanos's hand harmlessly. The Titan held the Power Stone as casually as if it were a common pebble. In that moment, Ronan understood the chasm that separated them. A single Infinity Stone was a force that Thanos could command completely.
Ronan opened his mouth to speak, to reiterate his plea for the destruction of Xandar, but another voice cut him off—a voice that was deep, resonant, and unfamiliar.
"So this is what you spoke of? An Infinity Stone?"
Ronan's head snapped up. He looked past the throne, into the deep shadows from which Thanos had emerged.
"With this," the voice continued, laced with a chilling curiosity, "you can truly do anything?"
From the darkness, a tall, imposing figure slowly stepped into the light.
Thanos turned his head, a faint, almost imperceptible smile on his lips. "You will see its power for yourself, Vilgax," he whispered. "You will see."