"Fly straight through? Are you trying to get us killed?"
Rocket was about to curse Lock out loud — until he saw the dark red energy suddenly spill from Lock's palm.
The liquid-like aura seeped through the Milano's hull without damaging it, then rapidly expanded until it enveloped the entire ship.
Before anyone could process what was happening, a meteor the size of a house came straight at them.
The Milano didn't dodge.
Instinctively, everyone threw up their hands, bracing for impact —
— and the meteor passed straight through the ship like a ghost.
No sound. No shockwave. No impact.
Then came another, and another — massive chunks of rock that should have pulverized the ship — and all of them phased harmlessly through as though neither meteor nor ship were real.
Gamora, Rocket, and Star-Lord stared in disbelief.
After a few passes, Star-Lord hesitantly reached toward one of the meteors as it phased through the hull. His hand met nothing.
He patted himself quickly, checking that he was still solid, then exhaled with relief.
"Lock… you're from Earth, right?" Quill asked slowly. "When did humans get this strong? Or are you — are you seriously a god from Earth? I thought gods were just a religious thing."
Lock's expression was calm. "Whether or not a god exists in the sense you mean, I am indeed from Earth. If you insist on calling me one, I suppose you could say I am counted among the gods of Asgard."
"…Wait, what?"
Quill's mind stalled.
It would make sense if Lock were simply a superhuman — some kind of Earth-born powerhouse.
But calling himself an Asgardian god? Wasn't that backwards?
Earthlings worshipped Asgardians — not the other way around.
Asgardians were stronger, faster, and lived for thousands of years. How could someone from Earth claim their title?
But the way Lock said it was so matter-of-fact, so casual, that it left Quill — and everyone else — momentarily stunned.
Rocket fidgeted, his mouth twitching as though he wanted to throw a sarcastic comment, but for once, he stayed silent.
Only Groot and Drax seemed unfazed.
If Drax didn't understand something, he simply didn't bother thinking about it. And Groot was busy playing his game console.
Quill, seeing that Lock was in a conversational mood, started asking questions about Earth.
Lock humored him, even mentioning recent supervillains and battles.
By the time the Milano emerged from the meteor belt, the worst was behind them.
Behind the ship, a few prison patrol craft had tried to follow — but without Lock's phasing shield, they were forced to slow down, unable to make it through safely.
"Coordinates to Knowhere," Quill said, relieved.
Gamora tapped the console, entering the destination.
The Milano's engines powered up.
Then came the familiar jolt — space folded and stretched before their eyes, stars elongating into glowing threads until everything turned into a blur.
Inside the ship, their bodies seemed to stretch and warp too, their voices sounding distant, echoing in their own ears —
— then the effect ended in an instant.
The Milano exited the jump.
Lock glanced at the console display. They had traveled several light-years in a heartbeat.
Even with all his power, he couldn't match this kind of speed unaided.
He might be able to survive in deep space, but even flying at supersonic speed would take him centuries to cross the galaxy.
No wonder Asgard relied on the Bifrost. Without something like the Rainbow Bridge, even a god could spend half a millennium just traveling.
Quill suddenly let out a low whistle.
Rocket's ears twitched. Gamora turned her head.
Everyone followed their gaze forward —
— and saw it.
A head the size of a small moon floated in the void.
The eye sockets and jaw were hollowed out, great cavernous spaces where flesh had long since decayed.
Nebulous yellow-green dust clouds surrounded the head like a ghostly halo, as though the very corpse bled starlight.
From a distance, it looked like some ancient, titanic face staring out across the universe.
As they drew closer, mining ships could be seen darting in and out of the skull.
Knowhere.
The Milano slipped through one of the giant eye sockets.
Inside, the place was alive with activity. Bright artificial lights illuminated vast hollow spaces, casting harsh shadows across the bone walls. Mining rigs, scaffolds, and suspended platforms clung to the inside of the skull.
Pools of thick, dark-green spinal fluid were being refined on the ground below, workers toiling beside them.
Around these operations sprawled a lawless city — stalls, bars, gambling dens, markets of every kind — all scattered haphazardly without any clear boundary between industry and housing.
The Milano landed in an unclaimed patch of bone floor.
Gamora warned quietly, "Stay alert. There's no law here."
Lock stepped down first.
The moment his boots touched the ground, he noticed it wasn't soil or metal but something entirely different — hard, resonant, faintly warm.
Bone.
They were standing on the skull of a dead god.
Or at least… a mostly dead god.
Lock paused mid-step.
There — faint, but undeniable — he could sense life.
Not consciousness. No thought, no soul.
Just a remnant of vitality, pulsing deep within the skull like a flickering ember that refused to go out.
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A/N: Advanced Chapters Have Been Uploaded On My Patreon
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