Boom!
A blinding flash ripped through the air.
A massive crater scarred the wall behind Ronan.
The wall looked sturdy as hell—thick enough that even a hit like that didn't punch through.
No way that blast was aimed at the wall.
Kang wasn't that dumb.
He glanced to the side.
There stood Ronan, grinning like nothing happened.
But Kang saw it clear as day.
The instant his energy cannon fired, Ronan dodged it—pure physical grit!
Energy cannons move fast—real fast.
Say the cannon's speed is 10, Ronan's at 11—that alone wouldn't cut it.
You need more.
Dynamic vision, nerve reaction speed, body coordination.
First, spotting the cannon's path.
Nerve speed? That's reaction—brain pings, body moves.
Average human clocks around 300 milliseconds.
Past 30, it slows.
Athletes, with training and talent, hit 150-180.
Science pegs the human limit at 100—some call it theoretical.
In Kang's era, tech and tools juiced reaction times beyond that.
Fair game—science serves humans.
But this guy? Different.
No tech, no gadgets—just raw flesh dodging his cannon!
He'd met Kamar-Taj mages—sure, tougher than normies, but not this.
What kind of freak was he?
Huff.
Kang's hands flared with cannon light again.
Dodge one? Try two.
That's when Ronan moved!
He'd been waiting for it.
Right hand flicked—two small orbs popped into his palm.
Kang adjusted fast, tracking Ronan's sprint, keeping his front squared.
Ronan's speed was nuts—Kang's eyes scrambled to keep up.
Ronan hit the wall, legs pumping—he launched up like a rocket, feet blurring with afterimages, soaring along the wall.
What the hell?
Kang didn't get it.
But Ronan wall-running? Gave him a shot.
Wall speed couldn't match flat-ground pace.
Kang swung both hands—left cannon even preempted a bit.
Boom!
Energy cannons nailed the hopping Ronan.
Hit!
Kang squinted—feedback confirmed!
Right shot grazed him, blasting the wall.
Left? Dead-on!
A smirk crept up.
But he missed it—a tiny orb, silent, dropped right in front of him.
Kang's eyes locked on Ronan, craving that kill confirmation.
Tough luck.
Smoke cleared—Ronan perched on the ceiling, unscathed.
Yup, stuck there like a damn spider!
Half-crouched, arms crossed, a busted shield flickering in front.
"How?!"
Kang blurted it out.
Behind that wrecked shield, Ronan's arms sported his "relic" suit again!
Minutes ago, the mag-field amp drained it dry—shouldn't restart!
Yet here it was?
"No such thing as impossible."
"You're wondering why my suit's back online, right?"
Ronan shook his arms—shield vanished.
It ate the damage, but the impact still stung.
His arms were tough, not painless.
Kang didn't answer, just glared.
"Since you figured it out, how could the 'genius' Tony Stark not?"
Ronan tilted his head, smirking.
Intentional or not, his grin—angle, curve—mirrored Kang's earlier one.
"To counter mag-field interference, Tony cooked up a trick."
"Fields interact—yours amplifies, his shrinks."
"Tech-wise, he can't match you."
"But enough to reboot my suit."
Ronan took a deep breath—this little tweak flipped the script.
Counterattack? Nah, too dramatic.
Point is, no Gauntlet needed—he could end Kang.
"Tony Stark, huh…"
Kang squinted, muttering the name.
Before he could say more, Ronan cut in.
"Next up, let a future boy taste this era's fight style!"
Bang!
As his words landed, the orb by Kang detonated!
Thick smoke erupted.
In a second, Kang was swallowed whole!
Smoke bomb?
Kang froze—he couldn't recall his last run-in with one.
His reflexes kicked in fast, though.
Arms spread, a fierce gust blasted from his hands, scattering the fog.
But as it cleared, another orb glinted in his sight.
Shit!
Kang cursed inside.
Too late.
Bang!
A crisp pop—not what he expected.
No bomb.
A flashbang!
First time Kang truly felt one.
Blinding light stabbed his vision; wild ringing flooded his ears.
In a flash, his top senses—gone!
Ronan, helmeted up, didn't sit still.
As the flashbang popped, he'd sealed his visor.
Sight and sound blocked, then snapped back post-blast.
And he moved!
Like before, he closed on Kang fast—unleashing a storm of blows.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Fists like sledgehammers pummeled Kang—Ronan kindly mixed it up.
Gut, chest, back.
Even the helmeted face got a love tap.
Both knew a punch wouldn't crack that helmet.
But Ronan did it anyway.
Why? One reason.
Mockery!
Bang!
A whip kick slammed Kang's neck—he flew.
Kang triggered some defenses, softening the hits.
Still took a beating.
By then, he shook off the flashbang.
It blinds and burns retinas—but his suit patched him quick, despite years sans this tech.
Splurch!
Vision barely back, Ronan's slick suit loomed.
Then chest pain.
A short blade—unknown make—buried in Kang's chest.
Kang's eyes bulged—disbelief.
He didn't get it!
Yup—why!
When the flashbang fried his senses, Ronan had a dozen kill shots.
But he didn't.
He went fists and feet.
Heavy hits, sure—Kang hurt bad.
His med-system fixed it fast.
Thought it'd be round two—never expected Ronan to stab his heart!
What the hell?
"Bet you're confused, huh?"
"Why I didn't use this blade sooner?"
Ronan leaned in, eyeing Kang's stunned face.
Helmet hid it, but Kang knew—under that mask, Ronan was grinning!
"Simple reason—once this blade's drawn, it can't go back."
Ronan, ever helpful, explained.
One use, blood hits—it needs purifying.
A Kamar-Taj relic, oddly magic-free.
No enchantments either.
Upside? Magic can't break it, plus a perk.
Hit with it? Endless bleeding.
No mundane fix, no basic healing spell works.
A curse, plain and simple.
A cursed blade—used once, needs cleansing.
Weird, but true.
Earlier, Ronan had chances galore to stab.
He held back.
His creed—steady.
Wild yet stable.
Wild when it's time, steady when it counts.
So, he kicked Kang flying—gave him hope.
That's when the blade struck true.
Blocked or nicked? Not the plan.
"Urgh…"
Blood trickled from Kang's mouth.
He felt it—his heart pierced, pain pulsing with each beat.
Worse, a blade stuck in there.
Splurt.
Ronan yanked it out—blood gushed.
Freaky thing? It didn't drip—instead, it sank into the blade slow.
Yup, the blade drank it.
Why it needed purifying.
Too much blood, the curse blows up!
Ronan sheathed it at his waist, sealing it for now.
Like he'd said—he'd prepped tons for Kang.
Kang watched, barely tugging a smile.
No magic, and Ronan still smoked him easy.
With primitive tricks?
Flashbangs and smoke bombs.
A mage pulling that? Didn't fit.
But Ronan made it work.
Maybe Kang didn't know—like Steve plotting Mjolnir combos in his head, Ronan's game-brain cooked up moves too.
This was just one set.
"This time… I lost."
"Next time, we'll win."
Kang spat blood—same instant, a portal flared behind him.
The force field? Gone somehow.
Portal's pull yanked him back.
He smiled at Ronan—like he'd escaped.
But he caught Ronan's grin too.
Why?!
"Leaving?"
"Not yet—I haven't signed off."
In Kang's fading sight, a familiar shape slid onto Ronan's left hand.
On its back, two lights blazed!