The air crackled like live wires, the scent of ozone thick as Ronan's energy surged outward. The Kree guards shifted uneasily, their confidence shattered by the one-man annihilation they had just witnessed. Even the Dark Nebula's hovering shadow seemed to hesitate, as if sensing the invisible authority Dominic carried.
Gamora's grip on her twin blades tightened. She turned slightly to Quill, her voice low but urgent: "He's not just powerful… he's a different kind of threat. Not Ronan, not Thanos-level—something else entirely."
Quill swallowed nervously, peering at Dominic as if the man were a new celestial entity. "Yeah… no kidding. Who is this guy, seriously? He just… wiped the floor with half our problems before breakfast."
Rocket, crouched on Groot's shoulder, fiddled with his blaster like it might suddenly make sense. "I swear, if he's not a friend, we're all meat pies for dessert. Either way, this is… insane."
Drax's eyes burned like coals. "He did not flinch. His power… it commands respect. Even Ronan dares not meet it head-on."
Dominic's crimson gaze swept over the Guardians, finally resting back on Ronan. He spoke calmly, with a chilling serenity: "You wield destruction as if it defines you. But destruction without choice is meaningless. You mistake chaos for strength."
Ronan's eyes narrowed, his energy fists igniting like twin suns. "And you think your words can stop me? You are nothing—an insect dancing in my storm!"
Dominic tilted his head slightly, almost amused. Then, with deliberate slowness, he extended a hand. The air around him shimmered violently as if reality itself responded to his presence. "An insect? Perhaps. But even an insect knows how to sting when it matters. You? You are a tyrant who doesn't understand what it means to choose."
The floor vibrated beneath them, and a ripple of crimson energy began radiating outward from Dominic, forming a semi-visible aura that distorted the air. Even the Dark Nebula's hull quivered in response, like metal fearing fire.
Ronan bellowed, unleashing a shockwave so strong it cracked the walls and sent debris flying toward the Guardians. Gamora and Drax leapt, narrowly avoiding the falling rubble, while Rocket's weapons blazed in defense.
Dominic didn't flinch. Instead, he raised a finger and flicked, a precise motion so simple it belied its deadly consequence. The shockwave reversed midair, smashing into the Kree guards and Ronan's armored hovercraft with pinpoint accuracy. Explosions lit up the cavernous space, smoke swirling like spectral serpents.
"You rely too heavily on force," Dominic said softly, almost philosophically. "True power… comes from control. From knowing when to act—and when to stand still."
Ronan's lips curled into a snarl, his voice a grinding growl. "You dare lecture me? I am the embodiment of the Kree's will. I am their wrath incarnate!"
Dominic's crimson eyes narrowed. "Then it's fortunate for you that I decide who deserves wrath."
With that, Dominic stepped forward, each movement smooth, deliberate, yet impossibly fast. A flick of his hand, and the energy surrounding him condensed into a crimson blade, sharper than any material in the galaxy. The air screamed as the blade sliced through space itself, a tangible slash of authority aimed straight at Ronan.
Gamora instinctively stepped back, sensing the enormity of what was about to happen. Even Quill muttered under his breath, "Oh… oh, oh no…"
Ronan raised his hammer, energy coalescing into a deadly sphere to intercept the strike. For a moment, time seemed to freeze—the clash of two incomparable powers warping reality itself. Sparks of light, bursts of heat, and sheer kinetic force collided, filling the air with a blinding aura.
Then, with a sound like tearing metal and splitting heavens, Ronan's strike shattered. The crimson blade didn't just hit—it erased a chunk of space, leaving a trail of distorted reality in its wake. The Kree guards screamed, thrown off balance, their weapons useless.
Dominic's eyes glowed brighter. His voice was calm, but every word carried the weight of inevitability: "You will learn, Ronan. Power is not the measure of a being. Choice is. And you… have made your choice."
The Guardians watched in stunned silence as the once-dominant Ronan faltered, the oppressive aura around him quivering as if reality itself no longer obeyed his command.
Gamora whispered to herself, barely audible: "Who… who is he really?"
Dominic's lips curved into that same cold smile. "Does it matter? I am the consequence you cannot escape. And today… you will understand what it truly means to face judgment."
The battlefield trembled. The Dark Nebula shuddered. And for the first time, the Guardians felt that the galaxy might just have a power far beyond even the Mad Titan himself.