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Arthur's plan was brutally simple.
In short, he would use the unique properties of his Disassemble Space to sever every tendril Ego had extended throughout the planet, leaving only the exposed core… then swallow that core whole into the Dissembler Space.
Of course, "simple" did not mean "safe."
It was, in truth, an incredibly reckless gamble.
Yes, the Disassemble Space could store countless things, objects, machines, even living humans. But there was one absolute rule: the stronger the target, the greater the chance of failure.
Long ago, when Doctor Lizard had planned to turn all of New York into his reptilian hive, Arthur had tried this very same tactic. The result had been rejection, his space had refused the target.
Since then, his powers have grown. There was progress, yes, but exactly how much? That was still unclear.
His earlier test had proved one thing: under the present conditions, so long as Ego remained unconscious, there was a chance. Not a certainty, but a chance. Once Ego awoke, though, that window would slam shut.
Unfortunately, there were no better options left.
Mantis was on the verge of collapse. There was no time to carve a tunnel to Ego's true core, no chance to whittle him down piece by piece. Only this one desperate, high-risk move remained.
It was hazardous, fragile, and full of uncertainty. But Arthur could no longer afford hesitation.
In seconds, he had deployed everyone. Eight massive "pillars" of living crystal, each a nerve-vine of Ego himself. Most were assigned to Mark Series's machine swarm, their concentrated firepower more than capable of tearing them apart. The rest were divided among Hulk, the "the Abomination," and the Superhero Alliance.
When every warrior was in place, Arthur drew a long breath. His voice dropped low, heavy with command.
"Remember, hit with everything you've got. Use your strongest strike. It must work in a single blow. We only get one shot!"
Yes. One chance.
All eight tendrils severed in the same instant, only then would Ego be ripped from dream into that hazy, in-between state. That fleeting moment of disorientation was Arthur's only window to seize him. Fail, and war would be the only path left.
So he added one more line: "If I fail to collect him, prepare to fight."
"Understood!"
Every single one answered in kind. They knew it too: this was the only way. If Arthur's method failed, then steel and blood would decide the rest. Either way, they would be walking the path fate had written.
The countdown began.
Three. Two. One.
The world erupted.
Mark Series's swarm fired in perfect unison. Hulk bellowed his fury. The Abomination howled. Tony, Venom, and the others unleashed everything they had.
BOOM!
The sound of eight shattering impacts echoed simultaneously.
And in Arthur's ears… time slowed to a crawl.
The sound of tendrils snapping. The faces of his comrades flashing before him, Mantis pale with exhaustion, Star-Lord caught between hope and dread, Gamora gritting her teeth, Yondu whistling his arrow into readiness. Every detail seared into Arthur's mind.
And beneath it all, he felt it.
A soul stirring. Groggy. Waking.
Perhaps because of his razor-sharp focus, it struck him clearer than ever before: the shape of a soul, stirring from its slumber. For the first time, Arthur felt it so vividly, so sharply, that his will formed the command like a hammer blow.
Collect!
[Collection Failed, ]
Arthur's pupils contracted. His heart plunged like a stone. But then, something shifted.
From deep within his soul came a sudden ripple, a moment of blinding clarity. In that instant, light surged from him, white at first, then blazing into a weave of silver and gold. Threads of radiance wrapped outward, countless, delicate yet unbreakable, spiraling to envelop the titanic sphere before him.
[Collection Failed… Collection Successful!]
In an instant, the planet's colossal heart was gone. Ego's vast core, sphere and all, had vanished without a trace.
Arthur suddenly felt a crushing weight descend upon him. His entire body dropped like a stone from midair, slamming into the ground with a thunderous boom!
Yet the earth beneath remained unbroken. This was not forced upon his body, it was forced upon his very soul.
'What… is this?'
In the blink of an eye, his mind turned hazy, assaulted by a cacophony of voices, countless whispers and roars pressing in from every direction, flooding into his consciousness all at once!
The pressure was unbearable. His soul felt as though it would be torn apart, burst open by the sheer mass of sound.
He jerked his head upward, just in time to see a prompt shimmer before his eyes, his last lifeline in the storm.
[Disassemble mysterious pseudo-lifeform (Gold)?]
"Disassemble!!"
There was no hesitation, no reasoning. Every cell in his body screamed the command. The chaos raging inside him was the result of seizing Ego's core, only by breaking it down could he end this torment!
[Confirm Disassemble mysterious pseudo-lifeform (Gold)?]
Another prompt. Another warning.
[Alert! Current Disassembler level insufficient. Forcibly Disassembling a mysterious pseudo-lifeform (Gold) will result in significant energy loss. Perfect Disassemble cannot be achieved!]
[Alert! Current Disassembler…]
Three such warnings in total.
By then, Arthur already felt warm trails running from his eyes, his nostrils, his ears. Blood.
It wasn't his body failing, it was his soul, buckling under a weight no life was meant to bear.
"Force Disassemble!!!"
He roared, voice shaking the cavern. At that moment he didn't care if the others heard.
No new warnings came. Instead, the familiar grinding of gears resounded in his ears, the sound of the Disassembler awakening.
And instantly, the deafening storm of voices fell silent.
Only the gnashing, whirring gears remained, turning and turning.
Arthur's vision spun. His head grew heavy, his limbs weak. The long-forgotten sensation of helplessness filled his body.
And then, without a word, without resistance, he collapsed into unconsciousness.
When Arthur awoke again, he was lying in the spaceship's resting chamber.
Natasha was slumped at his bedside, fast asleep, her delicate face softened in repose. Her fingers clutched his hand with desperate strength, as though even in sleep she refused to let go.
Arthur neither moved nor spoke. He only sighed quietly.
The grinding gears still echoed faintly in his ears, relentless and steady. It was the sign: the Disassembler was still at work, still breaking Ego down piece by piece.
Which left Arthur adrift in doubt once more.
I… am using the Disassembler… to take apart a being who calls himself a Celestial?