The Ravager destroyer roared to life, surging as the ship tore away from the collapsing star system.
A planet's destruction often left behind more than debris… its death throes could twist gravity itself, birthing unstable singularities. No warship, not even one of this class, dared remain nearby for long.
They had escaped in time.
Gamora stepped into the command hall, her face finally relaxing after tending to Quill. "Quill's emotions are still… unsettled."
No one blamed him.
Having a Celestial father sounded glorious… until you learned he wanted to eat you.
Soren leaned against the railing, gaze distant.
He understood grief… but his thoughts drifted elsewhere, toward a different friend trapped somewhere in the universe.
The Hulk.
At last, he walked to Quill's private berth.
Peter sat slumped on the edge of his bunk, his eyes fixed on nothing.
"Soren… hey." When Soren entered, he forced a shaky smile.
Soren exhaled. "Look… some things, no matter how hard, you have to learn to let go. Ego made his choice."
"You made yours."
Quill's expression softened, grateful for the honesty rather than pity.
But Soren didn't stay on the topic. He then spoke the real reason he'd come.
"I want to ask you about the Hulk."
Quill blinked, surprised. But he straightened, pushing aside his grief. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."
He gathered his thoughts before answering.
"I heard about him from a friend," Quill began. "It had to do with the Contest of Champions."
"Contest of… what?" Soren frowned.
Right. Soren was powerful beyond measure, but still new to the deeper layers of the cosmic world.
"It's an arena event run by the Grandmaster, one of the Elders of the Universe." Quill explained.
"He's obsessed with games, gambling… entertainment. Every cycle, he gathers fighters from across the galaxy. 'Invites' them."
Soren raised an eyebrow. "Invites?"
Quill snorted. "Kidnaps, bribes, drags whatever works. Point is, he fills his arena with the strongest beings he can find."
He took a breath. "And the champion this year… is the Hulk."
So that was it.
Hulk… trapped on the Grandmaster's world. And worse… forced to fight like some pet spectacle.
Soren's mind flashed back to the Flame Titan he'd slain. Collector had spoken of his brother the Grandmaster and their tangled dealings across the cosmos.
If Hulk was involved with him… then Soren needed answers.
"Do you know where this Champion Contest takes place?" He asked.
Quill only shook his head. "No. Almost no one does."
"Only the locals, the fighters, and the Grandmaster's personal guests know the location of his arena world. Everyone else is completely in the dark."
Then there was only one lead…
The Collector.
Soren nodded, decision made. "Then I'll go to Knowhere. The Collector will know where the Grandmaster is."
"If anyone knows, it's him." Quill let out a long breath.
Soren gave him a small pat on the shoulder. "And Quill… your Celestial bloodline has awakened."
"Stronger than Ego's now that you're free of him. Spend time getting used to it. If you need help mastering the power, come to me anytime."
Peter looked down at his hands feeling the warmth, the pulse, the potential.
For the first time since Ego's death… some steadiness returned to his eyes.
He looked up.
"Thank you, Soren. Really. If you hadn't pushed me… if you hadn't told me what Ego was doing—"
"…I'd be dead. Or worse."
Soren gave a faint smile. "Then make sure his death means something."
"Yeah. I will." Peter nodded firmly.
Soren nodded silently and left Quill's quarters.
The Guardians had their own path to walk now… and so did he.
✦••┈┈••✦••┈┈••✦
"What? Soren, you're leaving already?"
The Ravagers and even the Guardians looked genuinely surprised as he made for the hangar bay.
"There are things I need to handle." Soren smiled lightly.
"As for Thor, please keep an eye out for any word. If you learn anything, let me know immediately."
They didn't try to stop him.
And so, with Freyja at his side, Soren opened a spatial passage cutting cleanly across the void.
Together, they stepped through, vanishing from the battleship.
…
They emerged into the chaotic underbelly of the cosmos, an interstellar hive of crime and desperation, where the bold drank with the damned.
"Oh-ho… look at this one," a scarred alien drawled as he blocked their way.
Not two streets in, trouble found them.
His friends closed in behind him. "Pretty face and nice body. Why don't you come have a little fun with us, sweetheart?"
"You dare~" Freyja's elegant eyebrows lifting like drawn blades.
She didn't even finish the sentence.
BOOM
Screams spread through the street as all three men were suddenly hurled sideways and smashed straight into a reeking garbage heap with enough force to bury them under metal crates and rotted waste.
"…?" Freyja blinked.
Soren hadn't even lifted a hand that she noticed.
"T-that's~" A murmur rippled through the onlookers.
"Is it really him?"
"The Great Devil…"
"Run. Just run."
Like dust fleeing a storm, the crowded street emptied within seconds. The moment people recognized Soren.
Knowhere remembered him, the man who had killed legendary warriors as casually as swatting flies.
The one who turned entire gangs, syndicates, and warlords into names for gravestones.
No one wanted to be here when he decided he was in a bad mood.
In the trash heap, the would-be toughs finally surfaced covered in sludge, stinking.
They hadn't even realized who they provoked until the shout reached them.
Now, they stayed curled in the garbage, too terrified to stand.
"…"
Freyja walked beside Soren, watching the way crowds parted without a sound and as every person bowing their head, looking away, giving them a wide berth.
It happened on every street they turned onto.
She exhaled deeply.
"Soren… just how feared are you?" She asked, half teasing, half genuinely baffled.
"I've had… a disagreement here." Soren shrugged.
"This is definitely not a disagreement," Freyja muttered.