Gamora stared at her sister like she'd just spoken a foreign language and asked flatly, "Why would you say that?"
The pursuit of freedom was the instinct of all life. Under their father's rule, there was no real freedom to speak of. You couldn't freely pursue love—marriages were arranged for anyone who reached adulthood without a spouse. You couldn't choose a career—jobs were assigned whether you liked them or not. You couldn't even choose your own gender—sex reassignment was outright forbidden. As for children? That wasn't your decision either. Family planning policies handled that for you.
Even housing wasn't yours. Prices couldn't rise or fall naturally because all houses were government-owned and distributed according to the location of your assigned job. Convenience over choice, efficiency over desire.
With rules this brutal, Gamora asked bluntly, "Are you actually happy living like that?"
Nebula looked at her sister as if she were staring at a stranger wearing Gamora's face. She shook her head hard.
Damn it. How did that almost make sense just now?It felt like her thoughts had been nudged—tampered with somehow.
Her loyalty to their father snapped her back to clarity almost immediately.
Gamora's argument was completely ridiculous.
How vast was the universe? Vast didn't even begin to cover it. Boundless was closer. There were planets large enough to nurture civilizations spanning billions of stars. And yet, why were only the Three Great Empires and the Ten Grand Alliances known across the cosmos?
The answer was simple: the Dark Forest.
When a weak civilization was discovered, it wasn't greeted with cooperation or shared technology. It was met with plunder. Resources. Land. People. Sometimes the entire planet.
If the natives were strong, they were enslaved and sent to mine until they broke. If they were attractive, they were sold to merchant alliances. If they were very attractive, they were domesticated like exotic pets. And those deemed useless? Fertilizer. Literally.
And that was before even mentioning wars between planets or races.
Even members of the same race weren't safe from each other. Different civilizations from the same species could—and did—wipe each other out.
Nebula had seen it herself: an indigenous planet where one civilization, with slightly lighter skin and a marginally higher level of technology, enslaved the others and stripped them of resources. All of them came from the same planet. Same origin. Same blood.
In a universe like this, surviving was already an achievement. Happiness? That was a luxury reserved for whoever ruled everything.
Just as Nebula opened her mouth to argue back, she realized it wouldn't matter. Gamora wouldn't be convinced—no matter how many corpses the universe piled up as evidence.
So she closed her mouth, shook her head, and sent out a distress signal instead.
The sisters parted on bad terms.
Gamora boarded her spaceship without looking back and set a course for the desolate star ahead.
Several hours later, the ship entered the Wilderness Star System.
Scans revealed five planets with wildly chaotic orbits, as if they were constantly on the verge of colliding. There was none of the elegant order typical of planetary systems—just barely contained disorder.
This kind of instability usually happened when a star was violently ejected from its original galaxy, dragging its planets into a gravitational mess.
Just as they prepared to descend toward the first planet, the ship's alarms flared.
An unfamiliar spaceship had appeared.
It was grayish-white, roughly one kilometer long and about one hundred and fifty meters wide—a Commercial Alliance vessel.
The Commercial Alliance specialized in trade, not combat. Their ships were built for docking at orbital ports and hauling cargo efficiently, not for warfare. As a result, their designs were usually smooth and rounded, prioritizing space and balance over firepower.
Even so, the ship was flying straight toward them.
The target was unmistakable.
Everyone tensed.
Even a commercial ship not built for war was terrifying at that scale. Their stolen vessel was barely over thirty meters long. Comparing the two was like pitting a cockroach against a freight train.
Moments later, a communication request came in from an unknown signal.
Star-Lord, Gamora, and Rocket Raccoon exchanged looks.
Then they nodded.
When you're hopelessly outmatched, talking first is usually the smart move.
The next instant, a three-dimensional projection flickered to life before them.
The figure was a humanoid lifeform with pink skin and a full head of white hair. She stood about 1.8 meters tall, wearing a red bodysuit with matching leggings, topped by a blue jacket.
She looked calm. Almost casual.
Which, somehow, made things even more unsettling.
The man's muscles were impressively defined, the kind earned through long years rather than recent training. It was the physique of someone ancient—aged, but far from weak.
The moment the five members of the Guardians of the Galaxy got a clear look at him, they collectively let out a quiet sigh of relief.
They knew this guy.
Not only that—they'd worked with him before.
Standing before them was the Cosmic Collector himself, Taneleer Tivan.
Tivan smiled faintly, the kind of smile that suggested he already knew how this conversation would end."Hello, Guardians of the Galaxy."
Star-Lord nodded and returned the smile, slipping easily into his usual diplomatic mode."Hey there, Mr. Collector. So… what brings you all the way out here? Looking for something specific? Maybe need a hand?"
The Guardians had collaborated with the Collector more than once, and every time, it had ended the same way: them walking away significantly richer than before. That alone made him a welcome sight.
That said, they didn't actually know much about him. Just the basics—that he was an ancient being, absurdly wealthy, possibly richer than entire civilizations, and old enough to have seen empires rise and collapse like seasonal trends.
His nickname said the rest.
The Collector collected.
Anything strange, rare, or downright impossible to replace was fair game. In fact, the Cosmic Orb they'd once handled had originally been bought from him—for a price that still made Rocket sigh dreamily.
Tivan's smile widened just a little."Yes. I do need something," he said calmly. "I'm here to collect the Soul Stones. If you're willing to hand them over, I'll pay two billion Cosmic Coins."
He'd done his homework.
The Peace Alliance's governor had offered one billion Peace Coins for the gems. Tivan had simply doubled the price—and upgraded the currency while he was at it.
Two billion. In Cosmic Coins.
There was no universe where these money-loving Guardians turned that down.
Sure enough, the instant Star-Lord and Rocket heard the number, their eyes practically started glowing. Rocket looked like he was one heartbeat away from sprinting forward and pledging lifelong loyalty.
Money wasn't just important to them—it was practically a survival instinct.
Gamora, however, crossed her arms sharply.
"No," she said without hesitation. "What if Thanos comes for them after you take the stones? We have to give them to the Peace Alliance."
Her voice was firm, idealistic, and annoyingly reasonable.
As one of the ten great alliances of the universe, the Peace Alliance had the strength and influence to back up its authority. Even Thanos, at his current level, couldn't simply march in and wage an all-out assault on their territory.
Tivan's brow furrowed slightly at the mention of that name.
It wasn't anger. At his age, anger was a rare luxury.
It was unease.
As one of the Elders of the Universe, his personal combat power wasn't exceptional—but nearly three billion years of life had gifted him something far more valuable: knowledge. Secrets. Patterns. And, occasionally, glimpses of the future.
Those visions were unreliable—sometimes sharp, sometimes maddeningly vague—but one thing was always clear.
Thanos was terrifying.
Chasing me for a single Soul Stone would be inconvenient, Tivan thought. Annoying, but manageable.
Then another thought followed, far more comforting.
Once I collect all six Infinity Stones… I won't need to fear him at all.
The worry drained away as quickly as it had appeared.
Tivan lifted his head and said calmly, "Don't concern yourselves. Even if Thanos comes, he won't be able to take the Infinity Stones from me."
The words had barely left his mouth when a sharp warning blared through the Collector's ship.
"Alert. Unknown spatial jump detected. Based on rift size analysis, the incoming vessel is classified as Titan-class."
Almost immediately, the Guardians' ship echoed with the exact same alarm.
The timing was so perfect it was almost rude.
.....
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