The sky was falling.
Not metaphorically. Not dramatically.
Literally.
The Dark Aster tore through the atmosphere, engines screaming as it forced its way past the Nova Corps net. Energy lines strained and snapped one by one, ships buckling under the pressure. The great warship, once a symbol of Kree power, was now a dying beast—and it was taking Xandar with it.
Below it—
Xandar.
Millions of people.
And not enough time.
Eli shot upward.
The world stretched around him—colors pulling into long streaks, sound lagging behind motion. Near-light-speed travel wasn't like flying. It was like bending space, like the universe itself was trying to keep up with him.
His mind sharpened, processing everything at once.
Distance. Speed. Mass.
Too big.
Way too big.
"…Yeah," he muttered, breath steady but tight, "this is stupid."
He didn't slow down.
Above him, the Nova Corps ships held formation, their energy net glowing white-hot as it tried to hold the descending warship in place. Pilots screamed into their comms. Ships overheated and exploded.
It wasn't working.
It was slowing it.
Barely.
A Centurion's voice cracked over the channel, strained and breaking: "We can't hold it! We're losing—"
Static.
A ship snapped out of formation, spiraling away in flames.
The net weakened.
The Dark Aster dropped faster.
Inside it Peter Quill staggered as the floor tilted violently beneath him, slamming into a console. "Rocket! Any time now would be great!"
"I'm WORKING ON IT!" Rocket Raccoon shouted back, sparks flying around him as he tore through a control panel. Wires sparked. Alarms blared. "You want the ship to stop falling or do you want it to stop falling on fire?!"
"Can I have both?!"
"YOU CAN HAVE WHAT I GIVE YOU!"
Gamora braced herself against the wall, sword drawn, eyes fixed on the ceiling like she could see through it. "We're running out of time."
Peter looked at her. Then at the chaos around them.
He knew.
Outside The Dark Aster Eli reached it.
The Dark Aster filled his vision, blotting out the sky. Metal. Fire. Gravity. All of it compressed into one unstoppable force bearing down on a city that had done nothing to deserve it.
For just a second—
He hesitated.
Not out of fear.
Out of understanding.
This is not something you stop.
His hands pressed against the hull. The metal was hot. Burning hot. The ship's descent had superheated its underside, turning it into a furnace.
He didn't flinch.
"…Yeah," he said under his breath, jaw tightening, "we're gonna try anyway."
He hit it.
Hard.
Both hands slammed against the underside of the ship. The impact cracked the air like thunder—a shockwave rippling outward, visible even from the ground.
For a fraction of a second—
Nothing changed.
The ship kept falling. The engines kept screaming. The city kept growing closer.
Then—
The descent slowed.
Just a little.
Eli's arms shook instantly. Every muscle in his body screamed as he pushed. Ant-level strength surged through him—enough to lift dozens of times his own weight, enough to throw cars like toys, enough to crater concrete with a punch—
But this wasn't dozens.
This was a warship.
A city-killer.
"Move…" he gritted.
The ship kept falling.
Slow. Relentless. Unstoppable.
Wind exploded outward from him as he forced more power into the push, trying to redirect the fall, trying to tilt it—anything. The air howled around him like a hurricane.
It didn't matter.
The Dark Aster kept coming.
A shockwave burst from its hull—some kind of energy pulse, whether intentional or just the ship tearing itself apart, Eli couldn't tell.
He took it head-on.
His body held. Vibranium-level durability spread the force across his entire frame. But the push—the raw momentum—drove him downward, boots skidding across invisible air as he fought to keep position.
"…Okay—okay—bad idea—still doing it—" he forced out between clenched teeth.
Below him, the city grew closer.
Too fast.
Inside the Dark Aster Peter grabbed Rocket's shoulder. "Something's slowing us down! We're not dropping as fast!"
Rocket glanced at his screen, eyes widening. Readings flashed across the display—energy signatures, impact points, something pushing against the ship from below.
He blinked.
Then stared.
Then blinked again.
"…You've gotta be kidding me."
Eli pushed harder.
His arms trembled violently now. His breathing broke rhythm—no longer controlled, just survival. The pressure wasn't just physical anymore. It was everywhere. Weight. Force. Momentum. All of it pressing down on him, trying to crush him into the ground along with the ship.
His grip slipped.
Just a little.
The ship dropped another meter.
"No—"
He adjusted instantly—spider reflexes snapping him back into position, feet bracing against nothing as he forced himself upward again. His body moved on instinct now, faster than thought.
"Not… today…"
His vision flickered.
Not darkness.
Too much light. Too much speed. Too much everything pressing against his senses until the world blurred at the edges.
He shifted.
Not stopping the fall—
Redirecting it.
Wind roared from his hands, pushing against one side of the hull, trying to tilt the ship away from the most populated district. Ant-strength dug into the metal, creating leverage where there should have been none. Every ounce of power he had went into changing the angle.
The angle changed.
Barely.
A few degrees.
But enough.
Below, entire streets that would've been crushed… weren't.
Eli saw it. Registered it. Held onto it.
That matters.
Another shockwave hit.
Stronger.
His body took it—but this time he felt it. Deep. Like something inside him cracked under the strain. Not broken. Not yet. But close.
A thin line of blood slipped from the corner of his mouth.
"…Okay…" he breathed, shaky now, "that one… hurt…"
The ship didn't care.
It kept falling.
On the ground, people watched.
A Nova Corps officer lowered her blaster, staring up at the impossible sight. A single figure, tiny against the massive hull, pushing against a falling warship.
"Is that… one person?" she whispered.
Her partner didn't answer.
He was already running toward a collapsed building, pulling civilians out of the rubble.
Above, outside The Dark Aster "Come on…" Eli whispered.
His arms felt heavy now. Too heavy. His strength—still there—but not enough. Not for this.
For the first time—
Doubt crept in.
This might be it.
He thought of Natasha. Of the vacation they never took. Of her face when he said he'd come back.
"Be careful."
He thought of the child from earlier. The way they'd run when he said "Go." The way they trusted him without hesitation.
Not today.
He thought of Tony, annoying and brilliant and somehow believing in him.
"Don't die out there."
He thought of the Guardians. Broken people who kept fighting anyway.
"To give a damn. For once."
Eli's grip tightened.
"…No."
Wind surged again.
Stronger.
Focused.
He shifted position—launching himself along the hull at near-light speed, striking multiple points in rapid succession. Each impact was tiny. Insignificant. A dent here. A crack there.
But together—
They destabilized the descent.
Inside the Dark Aster
Rocket stared at the readings, paws frozen over the controls.
"He's not stopping it—he's throwing off the trajectory!"
Peter blinked, still fighting to keep his balance. "Is that… good?!"
Rocket's face split into a manic grin. "It is if you don't wanna die!"
Outside The Dark Aster, Eli reappeared beneath the ship, slamming both hands upward one final time.
"MOVE!"
For a moment—a real moment—the Dark Aster stalled. It hovered as Eli pushed with everything he had, blood trickling from his mouth. He'd absorbed kinetic energy to the fullest of his abilities, but that didn't stop him. He kept pushing.
It was like the universe itself had paused, watching.
Then gravity took over again. Eli's arms gave out—just slightly. Enough.
The ship dropped. Fast. Too fast.
The force slammed into him. He was pushed down hard, lungs burning, blood in his chest from the energy he'd absorbed. He was like an ant trying to hold a fridge.
A split second later, He pushed with what was left, releasing all the stored energy between the ship and the city. He wasn't stopping it now. He was catching what he could and redirecting the rest.
"BRACE!" someone screamed below.
Impact.
The Dark Aster slammed into Xandar, But not where it was meant to.
Not the heart of the city.
Not the crowded districts.
It tore through structures, crushed streets, sent shockwaves across blocks. Buildings collapsed. Fires erupted.
But it wasn't total destruction.
Not extinction.
People survived who shouldn't have. Blocks that should have been flattened were merely damaged.
Eli stood at the middle of the impact zone.
Breathing hard. Arms shaking. Blood drying at the corners of his mouth. Clothes shredded, streaked with crimson.
I should have just smelted the skull, he thought. After this… I'm getting a piece of it.
He looked at the damage. At what was lost. At what wasn't.
"…Could've been worse," he said quietly.
Above, smoke filled the sky. Around the city, people were alive. That was enough.
He heard crying. Someone calling for help. A siren in the distance. Chaos everywhere.
His legs wobbled as he tried to move.
He moved anyway, stumbling forward
There was still work to do.
in the distance—
Smoke rose from the Dark Aster's wreckage.
But the fight wasn't over.
Ronan was still there with the guardians and the stone was still there.
And Eli…
Eli wasn't done either.