Boom!
Boom boom boom boom boom!
The Kree warships powered up, energy gathering in their cannons.
The temperature in the Void sky spiked.
Intense energy fluctuations condensed above the city like a brewing storm.
Then—
The barrels ignited with blinding red light.
Whoosh whoosh whoosh!
Dozens of deadly energy beams tore through the sky.
In their path stood one man—
Superman.
Suspended in the air, unwavering.
The sheer concentration of energy distorted the air, warping the light like heatwaves.
It was immediately clear: these attacks weren't something any ordinary being could survive.
The people below could only watch in awe and dread.
No matter how powerful this mysterious figure in the battle suit was—
No matter if he had torn apart a spaceship with his bare hands—
This... this was different.
This was annihilation.
No human body could endure such firepower.
Unless... he wasn't human.
Many in the galaxy knew of the ancient gods—celestial beings born at the dawn of the universe, wielding immense, almost eternal power.
But they had long since faded into myth.
Their appearances were now rare and shrouded in legend.
The man in front of them couldn't possibly be one of those gods...
Could he?
They didn't know the truth.
They didn't know his name.
Superman
A man transformed—reborn.
Known to some by another name:
The God of the World.
Not a god by birth—
But greater than a god in power.
As the barrage closed in, Anton—transformed into Superman—remained perfectly still.
It was as if the deadly beams had stunned him into a trance, frozen him midair.
The crowd gasped.
Surely even he couldn't survive this?
Another mighty warrior lost to the fury of the Kree.
Even Nick Fury, watching from a distance, broke into a cold sweat.
He believed in Superman—
But he also understood the Kree.
He had seen what they were capable of through his long-time partner, Carol Danvers.
"Damn it..." Fury muttered.
Meanwhile, Peter Quill—Star-Lord—watched in shock.
This clash between titans was the perfect chance for him to move unnoticed.
His eyes narrowed as he checked his scanner, locating his team.
"There you are..."
Yongdu and the others were just two to three kilometers away.
Within reach.
"Don't die on me, Yongdu..."
Peter muttered under his breath.
"I've done all this—if I can't save you now, then maybe this was all for nothing."
Back in the sky—
The energy beams struck.
A storm of red light swallowed Superman whole.
From a distance, his figure looked impossibly small, almost insignificant against the backdrop of dozens of Kree warships.
Even though he had displayed the power to battle starships bare-handed, few believed he could survive this.
Because to survive an attack of this magnitude—
You'd have to be more than a warrior.
You'd have to be a god.
In this day and age—
The gods have disappeared.
The universe is godless.
...
"Sir, Star-Lord is gone!"
"Pursue him!"
"Direct hit, sir—he's dead!"
"Wait—no, he's not!"
"Something's wrong... sir, look! That guy's completely unharmed!"
"This guy... this guy isn't human!"
"What? Could he be...?"
The Kree's comms lit up with confusion and panic.
Their devastating energy barrage hadn't made a dent.
The enemy—still suspended in the air—remained perfectly still.
As the final rays faded, the truth became visible.
And it shook the entire city of Knowhere.
Even Nick Fury, still watching from below, and Peter Quill, who had just left the rooftop and was rushing toward Yondu and the others—froze in disbelief.
"What...? How is that possible?"
"He's... completely fine?!"
All across the Void, thousands of alien onlookers gasped.
Their hearts pounded.
They felt it in their bones—
They had just witnessed a miracle.
None more so than Peter Quill.
His pulse thundered.
His limbs trembled.
For the first time in a long while, he felt genuine fear.
He had realized it—
He'd provoked a being far beyond his comprehension.
The Kree? They were dangerous, yes.
They could squeeze the life out of him through power, politics, and pursuit.
But the Kree were manageable.
They had limits.
Quill's Ravager crew had tangled with galactic powers before and survived.
The reason? None of those powers could truly target them.
But Superman...
He wasn't just powerful.
He was focused.
Relentless. Godlike.
From the moment he appeared, he had zeroed in on Peter.
There was no escape.
This wasn't just a chase—it was an execution.
A chilling realization crept into Quill's mind.
"This guy isn't a force of nature. He's worse—he's aiming straight at me."
Carol Danvers, who had been watching from beside Nick Fury, glanced at him and gave a crooked smile.
"Funny..." she said.
"You've known Superman longer than I have, Nick. But I think I understand him better now."
Fury turned, still dazed.
"What do you mean?"
"You admire his power," Carol replied, "but have you ever considered... he might be even stronger than you think?"
Fury blinked, then slowly nodded.
A low whistle escaped his lips.
"Damn... you're right. I thought I had a handle on what he could do. But I was wrong. I've underestimated him."
Superman—Anton—had a very specific fighting style:
Maximum attack. Zero dodge.
He stood tall. Took the hit.
Let them fire everything they had—
Then walked through the flames to deliver a single, decisive punch.
That was his method.
And now, Anton finally understood why Superman fought like that.
Because it was the ultimate flex.
"I'll stand right here. Shoot me. If you can even scratch me, I'll admit defeat."
There was nothing more terrifying than a man who didn't need to defend himself.
It shattered morale.
Crushed confidence.
It broke enemies before they even touched the ground.
And yes—It looked really, really cool.
Anton, now fully embracing his new identity as Superman, could hear the gasps.
The awe.
The fear.
Even the private conversations inside Kree ships reached his ears with crystal clarity.
"Sir, what now?"
"Keep firing! I don't believe anyone can take that much and survive!"
"Roger!"
The Kree soldiers were visibly nervous, but orders were orders.
Their duty was obedience, not doubt.
So once again, the Kree warships lit up.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Wave after wave of energy beams burst from the muzzles of their cannons.
But this time...
Superman moved.
Not to dodge—
But to advance.
He flew forward in a straight line, cutting through their barrage like a spear through paper—
Headed directly for the nearest Kree ship.
"Sir, he's here!"
"Evade him—keep firing!"
"Copy that!"
After a brief exchange over comms, the Kree soldiers attempted to maneuver their spacecraft away from the city, trying to put distance between themselves and Superman.
Whoosh!
The moment Superman sensed their retreat, he accelerated.
His speed exploded.
Afterimages trailed behind him as a deafening sonic boom tore through the air, shockwaves rippling outward, shaking the entire city of Knowhere.
But the Kree ship didn't make it far.
The pilot barely had time to react before the figure of Superman appeared directly in front of their cockpit—no more than two or three meters away.
"Gulp..."
The soldier at the controls swallowed hard, his eyes wide with uncontrollable fear.
He knew, in that instant, it was over.
Boom!
The spacecraft erupted into a fireball, consumed in flame as it spiraled out of the sky.
The Kree soldiers inside were vaporized.
No need to check—they didn't survive.
"At this speed, there's no escape," one of the Kree generals muttered, brows furrowed.
"We can't shake him. It's a straight-up fight now."
He took a breath and barked out the order:
"All units, engage him directly!"
"Understood!"
The Kree fleet responded instantly.
Ships regrouped and encircled Superman, their cannons unleashing a new barrage of devastating energy rays in a bid to overwhelm him.
At the same time, one figure quietly slipped away from the main battlefield.
A green-skinned woman.
Slipping into the shadows, she moved with practiced stealth.
It was none other than Gamora, a member of the Zehoberei clan—and one of the key players in Star-Lord's original plan.
But things had changed.
According to Quill, Gamora had made a private deal with the Kree.
The three-sided plan had collapsed into a two-party arrangement.
Still, Quill's plan had served its purpose.
The chaos of battle gave him the chance to vanish into the background, slipping away in the confusion.
But at this point—none of it mattered.
Quill had already tossed the Orb.
He was no longer the focus.
Neither the Kree nor Superman had any reason to chase him now.
Even Gamora wouldn't waste her time.
She had what she wanted: the Orb, and a way to escape Thanos.
Their brief encounter—what could've been the spark of a relationship in another timeline—ended before it began.
No shared goals. No unity. Just two people crossing paths with conflicting agendas.
Quill wanted to sell the Orb.
Gamora wanted to run with it.
At the moment, the only ones still thinking about Quill were Carol and Nick Fury, who were keeping an eye on Yondu and his crew from afar.
Both of them were disappointed—maybe even a little disgusted—with Quill for breaking his word.
That's why they hadn't stepped in to help Superman take out the Kree ships.
First, because they knew Superman didn't need help.
Second, because they wanted Quill to learn a lesson.
As fellow Earthlings, they didn't want to kill him.
Earth-born humans were a rare breed out in the galaxy.
Carol had encountered Quill more than once over the years, and though she had no real affection for him, she didn't consider him evil.
Just... greedy. Careless.
He needed a wake-up call, not a death sentence.
Suddenly—
Carol frowned. Her eyes narrowed.
"What is it?" Nick asked, noticing her expression.
He turned, scanning the same direction, but saw nothing unusual.
"Something wrong?"
Carol didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she raised her hand—then with a sharp motion, unleashed a burst of energy at a nearby wall.
Boom!
A section of the wall exploded outward, leaving a smoldering hole.
Star-Lord was stunned.
His scalp tingled as he stared at the Earthlings standing before him—his supposed compatriots—alongside his own team, now bound and immobilized.
Shock washed over him.
These people from Earth... they weren't ordinary at all.
Not even close.
From Superman, who had just dismantled a fleet of Kree ships like they were made of paper, to the woman standing calmly before him, radiating quiet, terrifying power—this group possessed strength beyond imagination.
And then... there was the Black man.
"Nick Fury..." Quill muttered, the memory of their conversation at the bar coming back to him.
He glanced at Fury's unimpressed, deadpan expression, and it hit him.
At first, Quill had thought Fury was just comedic relief—typical Earth representation: the white guys got the power, the Black guy brought the sarcasm.
It felt almost too on-brand, like something ripped from a politically correct movie script.
But now...
Looking again, feeling the overwhelming pressure from all sides...
He realized: none of these people were simple.
Not one of them.
High above, Gamora had left the battlefield.
She hovered in the air, her expression serious, staring down at the chaos below.
That man—the one in the skin-tight suit—was tearing through Kree ships like a child ripping apart toys.
It shocked her to her core.
She had never seen anyone with such overwhelming strength.
No—only one came to mind.
Her adoptive father... Thanos.
Thanos, the Mad Titan, was a being of terrifying power. A member of the Eternal race from Titan, he possessed strength, endurance, and resilience beyond measure. His vitality was unmatched—he could survive without food or rest for extended periods. His very presence bent the battlefield to his will.
And now, the image of Thanos obliterating planets began to blur, to overlap... with the sight of Superman fighting below.
An idea began to take shape in Gamora's mind.
If anyone in the universe could stand against Thanos—it was this man.
The man before her didn't need an army.
He was the army.
Even alone, he could challenge the likes of Thanos, blow for blow.
Gamora's heart raced.
And what excited her most—was that she knew they would inevitably clash.
She wasn't concerned about convincing this Superman to help her.
It was clear what he was after: the Orb.
And that... was exactly what Thanos wanted too.
So long as the Orb was in Superman's hands, a confrontation was guaranteed.
Gamora knew Thanos wouldn't back down.
But neither would this man.
They couldn't align—not unless they shared the same vision for the universe.
And in her heart, Gamora knew: Thanos' vision, driven by delusion and destruction, wasn't something anyone else could follow—not truly.
These two would fight.
And in that battle, she might finally have her chance.
A chance to shift the balance.
A chance to change her fate.
A chance... to escape Thanos once and for all.
….
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