Quill and Rocket stared blankly at the flood of information spreading across the interstellar network about the Power Stone. The more they read, the more stunned they became. Neither of them had ever imagined that the seemingly harmless Cosmic Orb in their possession could contain such terrifying power.
Unconsciously, both man and raccoon turned toward Gamora, who was holding the Orb in her hand.
"So," Rocket began matter-of-factly, "if this thing is so powerful, why don't we just use it to get out of this mess?"
He reached out to grab the Orb, but Gamora quickly pulled it back, her expression grave.
"Have you ever considered," she said quietly, "the cost of using it?"
Her words made both Quill and Rocket pause.
"This thing holds infinite energy," Gamora continued. "Anyone who wields it can easily destroy a planet."
Quill frowned. "Where exactly did I find it again? Oh, right—some abandoned planet called Morag. I stumbled upon it while checking out some old data files."
Gamora's fingers moved quickly over her holographic pad, and a projection appeared in front of them showing a full planetary dossier.
"Morag was once home to a highly advanced civilization—technologically brilliant, densely populated. Then, out of nowhere, the entire civilization collapsed. No one ever found out why. It's been a dead world ever since. Quill, you said you found the Orb there. Doesn't that make you think of something?"
Quill blinked, then realization dawned. "You're saying… Morag discovered the Power Stone, tried to study it, and their experiments went out of control—destroying the entire planet?"
"The room where I found the Orb," Quill said slowly, "it did look like a lab."
"Damn it," Rocket snarled, crushing the empty bottle in his paw. "So it's a death trap in a shiny metal ball? Great! Just great! We can't use it, we can't sell it—what can we do?"
Quill grinned wryly. "Relax, Rocket. It's not over yet. If things really get desperate… maybe we'll just have to take a gamble."
Gamora, Rocket, and Quill exchanged glances. None of them felt reassured.
Meanwhile, far above the planet, the confrontation among the galactic powers had escalated into a full-scale standoff.
Countless fleets—representing the greatest civilizations in the Milky Way—had completely surrounded the planet, filling the nearby space with warships large and small.
The Power Stone was simply too valuable.
To most advanced civilizations, destroying a planet wasn't exactly new—plenty of superweapons could do that. But the Power Stone was different. It offered instantaneous power, no charging time, no energy buildup—just pure, devastating might in the palm of one's hand.
That kind of power didn't just destroy worlds. It changed the balance of the universe.
A single being capable of wielding such force—what the universe called a "Heavenly Father-level" existence—could crush fleets as easily as stepping on ants. And an empire that controlled such a weapon would no longer need its armies to prove dominance.
No wonder the three great empires—the Kree, Skrull, and Shi'ar—had all gathered their might to fight for it.
For the Nova Empire, their goal was simple: preserve balance.For the Ravagers and other pirate factions, it was an opportunity—whichever leader obtained the Stone could unify the entire underworld and even challenge the empires themselves.
Of course, lesser civilizations dared not interfere. They hovered on the edges, watching from afar, afraid to provoke the wrath of gods.
At the heart of the Kree fleet, aboard the Dark Star, Ronan the Accuser paced like a caged beast.
The Power Stone was right there, below him, within his grasp—yet the Skrulls and Shi'ar kept him pinned in a political stalemate.
The Skrull Empire, though weakened in recent years, was desperate to reclaim its former glory. The Power Stone represented their last hope of revival. For that, they were willing to confront both other empires head-on.
Ronan's fury burned hotter with every passing moment, his hand gripping the Cosmic Scepter tightly as he glared out through the panoramic glass.
But beneath that rage, a sliver of unease gnawed at him.
Thanos—the Mad Titan—had been the one who commissioned him to find the Orb. And yet, mere days after Ronan began his search, news of the Power Stone had spread across the entire galaxy.
Coincidence? Impossible.
Now the three empires were locked in a fragile standoff, the tension so thick it could ignite into war at any moment. Ronan knew that once the first shot was fired, there would be no turning back. The devastation would engulf worlds.
He wasn't the only one with doubts. The Skrull generals and Shi'ar commanders were equally hesitant. They all knew that if war broke out, no one could control where it would end—or how much it would cost.
For now, the fleets floated in silence, their weapons armed but restrained.
Farther back, the Nova Corps and the Ravager ships slowly withdrew, not daring to get caught between three galactic titans.
The entire galaxy held its breath.
Every news feed, every broadcast, every conversation revolved around the same question—Would the three empires actually go to war?
Some citizens prayed for peace. Others, more bloodthirsty or foolish, hoped to witness a spectacle. Some thrill-seekers even flew their ships toward the outer perimeter just to record the battle from a "safe" distance, ready to sell the footage for a fortune.
And yet, on the surface of the besieged planet…
Star-Lord and his crew were having a barbecue.
The planet's strange atmosphere meant it never turned dark—permanent daylight stretched endlessly across the rocky landscape.
"When are those guys gonna start fighting already?" Rocket grumbled through a mouthful of roasted meat. "They're not seriously gonna blow up the planet with us on it, right?"
Gamora shook her head. "No. If they destroy the planet, the Power Stone could drift away. None of the empires want that risk."
"Well," Quill said, leaning back in his chair with a grin, his old headphones blasting music, "we're cornered anyway. Might as well enjoy our last meal."
Gamora glanced at him, then smirked despite herself.
Over the past few days, despite the chaos, they'd grown closer—sharing pieces of their pasts, their losses, their strange lives. They still kept secrets, of course, but something like trust had begun to form.
After they ate, Quill picked up the Cosmic Orb, rolling it between his hands as he stared into its faint glow.
"I've always wondered," he mused aloud, "what does it actually look like inside? A little gem that can destroy a planet… hard to imagine."
Then, a calm voice answered from behind him.
"Why not open it and see?"
"That's… actually a good idea," Quill replied automatically—then froze.
That voice wasn't Gamora's.It wasn't Rocket's either.
And there was no one else here.
A chill ran down his spine.
Gamora and Rocket were both staring past him, their eyes wide in shock. Groot stood motionless, his branches trembling slightly.
Slowly, Quill realized what that meant—someone was standing behind him.
And he hadn't even noticed.
His left hand tightened around the Orb while his right hand inched toward the blaster strapped to his thigh. But before he could reach it, a smooth, pale hand brushed lightly across his cheek and plucked the Orb from his grip.
He caught a glimpse of gleaming gold armor on that wrist—elegant, radiant, otherworldly.
For some reason, every instinct screamed danger, yet his body refused to move.
"Is this the Power Stone?" a woman's voice asked softly.
"It seems someone's using it to stir up a war," another voice replied.
"Should we intervene?" a third added calmly.
"Not yet," the first voice said. "Let's wait and see. The Power Stone is in our hands now. Whatever they plan, they can't act without us."
Three voices. All unfamiliar. All utterly composed.
Quill swallowed hard, cold sweat running down his neck.
He'd been flying with Yondu since he was ten years old, surviving ambushes and raids all across the galaxy. But never—never—had someone snuck up on him like this.
For three people to appear without a sound…
He forced himself to turn around.
Three figures stood before him, bathed in the golden light of the planet's sun.
Two women and one man—all with human-like skin, their faces impossibly beautiful, their bearing noble and serene. They were clad in magnificent golden armor that shimmered like starlight, each with a long cloak flowing gently behind them.
The man stood at the center, eyes half-closed, one hand over his chest in quiet reverence. The Cosmic Orb now rested in the hand of one of the women beside him.
Their presence was overwhelming—like gods descended from the heavens.
End of Chapter)
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