"Don't be stupid, Drax!" Gamora stepping in front of him.
"Ronan is not someone you can just charge at. You'll be slaughtered!"
Her expression was tight, voice trembling with tension. The sudden arrival of Ronan's warship had thrown everything into chaos.
And with the Orb no longer in their possession, their options had dwindled fast.
She turned sharply to the Collector, voice steady but urgent.
"Mr. Collector, Ronan's after the Orb. If he gets it, if he harnesses that kind of power, whole planets will fall. Billions will die."
The Collector crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. He wasn't pleased.
"So I've gathered." His tone was dry, irritated.
"Interesting timing, isn't it? You show up with the Orb, and barely an hour later, Ronan tears down my front door."
He gave a weary sigh, casting a sharp glance at the Guardians.
"I don't appreciate being used as bait in someone else's war."
Rocket shrugged, already fiddling with a modified blaster.
"Hey, you live on a floating skull in deep space. Comes with the territory."
Soren, meanwhile, stood calm and composed as ever, the Power Stone secured in his possession.
He watched their bickering with mild detachment, but the corner of his mouth lifted when he saw the fear behind Quill's bravado.
"Peter Quill."
Quill looked up, startled. "Y-yeah?"
Soren's tone dropped, calm but firm.
"No matter where you go in this galaxy or how many times you screw up, don't forget where you came from."
He stepped closer, looking Quill dead in the eye.
"You're an Earthling. Try not to disgrace the rest of us."
Quill blinked. "That's... a lot of pressure, man."
Soren gave a faint smile.
"Good. Means you'll take it seriously."
Gamora stared at him, cautious hope flickering in her eyes. "You're going to fight Ronan?"
"Consider it part of the payment for our little deal." Soren turned, his coat fluttering slightly behind him. "I don't like tyrants."
"Or people who throw tantrums when they lose."
The Collector's face twitched.
"Soren, if you fight him here, this place, my collection, it could be destroyed."
He hesitated. "And... Ronan isn't working alone. He's aligned with Thanos."
That name changed the mood instantly. Even Rocket looked up.
But Soren merely waved a hand dismissively.
"Relax, Tivan. I won't burn your museum down."
He smiled faintly. "I've seen worse than Thanos."
And just like that, he vanished.
Silence followed.
"He's gone?" Rocket asked, blinking.
Quill turned to the Collector, a deep frown creasing his brow.
"Be honest. Can Soren really take Ronan?"
The Collector was quiet for a moment. Then, slowly, a smile curved his lips, small, knowing.
"Oh yes."
"…"
"I'm going after him!" Drax snarled, gripping the hilts of his twin blades.
His eyes burned with hatred. "Ronan's blood will spill today… for my wife, for my daughter!"
"Drax, wait..." Gamora reached out, but he was already moving.
"Forget it," Quill said, his tone grim.
He turned to the Collector with a defiant smirk. "Thanks for the hospitality, Mr. Collector, but I'm not just some tourist out here."
"Soren's right. I'm from Earth, and I'm not gonna run when things get ugly."
One by one, the Guardians turned to leave.
"You're making a mistake." the Collector warned, watching them go.
Rocket cocked his blaster and grinned. "Yeah, well, we're good at that."
They left Collector's archive behind, running headlong into chaos.
Meanwhile...
Soren materialized atop a crumbling rooftop, wind tearing at his coat.
Before him loomed Ronan's Dark Aster, its jagged hull blotting out the sky as it settled like a tumor into the heart of Knowhere.
The massive vessel had already crushed several city blocks under its weight. Screams echoed through the streets below.
Civilians ran in every direction, ships launched in a frenzy from the hollowed-out skull that was Knowhere, streaking toward distant stars.
Some hovered nearby, unwilling to flee too far, watching, wondering who would stand against the monster that had just arrived.
Among the panicked crowd, two refugees crouched behind a collapsed column, arguing breathlessly.
"That's it—I'm done! I told you we shouldn't have come back here!"
"We needed fuel, genius!" The other snapped.
"How was I supposed to know Ronan would show up again?"
"First the Flame Titan, now this freak with his flying fortress! I swear, next time someone says 'Let's stop in Knowhere,' I'm punching them in the throat."
Above them, sleek warships bearing the Kree sigil descended, dropping battalions of Ronan's soldiers into the city.
Armed with pulse-rifles and shock-blades, they stormed the streets, intent on finding the Guardians.
Word had spread fast.
"You see them?" One Kree soldier barked.
"The Egroup? Yeah. Collector's bar was their last known location."
"Notify Ronan. Move!"
At the rear of the invasion force, Ronan the Accuser marched forward, his massive warhammer resting over one shoulder, flanked by soldiers and his lieutenant, Nebula.
She moved like a shadow, silent and sharp, while Ronan watched the fleeing masses with cold amusement.
With a flick of his wrist, he hurled a bolt of energy from his hammer, vaporizing a group of terrified refugees.
"Cowards."
Suddenly, his steps halted. His eyes narrowed, focusing on a nearby rooftop, one where a familiar wrecked battleship sat half-buried in rubble.
It bore the sigil of the Kree, his own fleet.
His jaw clenched.
"That's Kratt's ship." He growled.
Nebula looked at him, confused. "You sent them after the Orb."
"They failed. Slaughtered by someone powerful enough to leave no trace."
The realization hit him like a thunderclap.
"He's here."
In a sudden, violent motion, Ronan roared and swung his Warhammer in a wide arc. It struck a nearby building, leveling it instantly into a cloud of fire, rubble, and screams.
The people hiding within never stood a chance.
Dust filled the air.
"COME OUT!" Ronan bellowed, eyes glowing with fury.
"I KNOW YOU'RE HERE!"