Resolution

The metallic hush of the Harbinger's halls echoed beneath Hulk's heavy steps. Despite his massive frame, the corridors adjusted seamlessly, walls widened, ceilings retracted, and lighting shifted to accommodate his presence. William strode beside him, explaining the layout like a proud host.

"Food's three halls down, made to handle appetites even yours," William said with a smirk. "Family quarters are customizable, just tell the ship what you want. But this… this is my favorite place."

They stopped before a pair of towering chrome doors.

PSHHH—

The doors hissed open, revealing a vast chamber pulsing with latent energy. Hulk's brows lifted in surprise.

Inside, Peter danced through an illusion of chaos, spirit silk crackling between his fingers like animated threads of starlight. Around him, a vivid simulation of the Battle for Asgard played out: Einherjar clashing with invaders, dragons swooping through flaming skies, and lightning lacing the air.

CLAP!

William snapped his fingers.

The illusion dispersed instantly. The warriors vanished. Flames flickered out. The skies returned to sterile white. Peter flipped in midair and landed silently, his descent fluid and balletic, like a feather caught on a breeze.

Hulk and William towered over the younger warrior, who took a half-step back, shielding his neck from craning too far.

"Hey Peter," William said, "mind if I borrow the space?"

Peter beamed. "Go ahead! I was wrapping up anyway." He sniffed, recoiled slightly, then muttered with a grimace, "Yup… definitely need a shower." He tossed a wink and strolled past them out the door.

CLAP.

William clapped again, and the room shifted, walls folding into themselves, the blank white morphing into vibrant greens and open sky. The field stretched for miles, an exacting reconstruction of one of Asgard's war-scarred plains.

Across the expanse, a figure emerged in the shimmering distance, Thor.

Not the Thor, but an impeccably rendered simulation built from observation and extrapolated power readings. Lightning crackled across the doppelgänger's form, his eyes glowing white-hot, Mjolnir in hand.

With a guttural war cry, the thunder god slammed his hammer into the ground.

KR-KRACKOOOOOM!

A column of divine lightning lanced from above, striking the earth with enough force to rattle the room. Thunder rolled like the sky itself had cracked open.

Hulk turned to William, grinning like a kid at Christmas.

"Go wild," William said casually. "The room's built for this, it'll rebuild whatever gets broken."

Hulk gave a rumbling chuckle before crouching, his body coiling like a spring. Muscles bunched and bulged, veins pulsing beneath jade skin.

BOOOOM!

He launched forward like a missile, the floor beneath him cratering from the force of his leap.

Sim-Thor reacted instantly. Mjolnir surged with power, a web of lightning screaming around its head as he cocked back and thrust it forward with the force of a storm.

KRA-KA-CHOOOM!

The bolt hit Hulk mid-air. The impact was cataclysmic. Hulk was blasted backward, spinning like a meteor, smashing into the dirt hard enough to leave a crater. Smoke curled from his chest.

But he rose, growling, eyes glowing with fury.

He charged again, even as Thor kept pouring lightning into him, arcs slamming into Hulk's frame and charring the ground around him.

ZAAAK-CHTZZZZ!

Lightning danced over Hulk's shoulders and arms. The green behemoth bellowed, absorbing the pain, channeling it into fury.

He reached Thor in a blur, grabbed Mjolnir mid-strike, and yanked the thunder god toward him with monstrous force.

WHAM!

Hulk's fist collided with Thor's face like a wrecking ball. The thunder god was hurled through the air, crashing into the far edge of the field in a blinding flash. Lightning exploded out from the point of impact like a shockwave, briefly turning the entire field white.

The training room groaned, systems compensating for the energy surge, and the simulation recalibrated automatically. Smoke trailed from Hulk's shoulders. Burn marks crisscrossed the virtual grass beneath his feet.

He stood tall, breathing heavy, fists clenched, chest rising and falling like a war drum, and smiled.

"Again," he growled.

William chuckled, arms crossed, as he watched from the sidelines. "Oh, he's going to like it here."

The simulated Thor rose from the smoking crater, embers trailing from his armor as lightning stitched across his body like living veins. His expression had shifted, not rage, not pain, but something close to respect. The room interpreted this, feeding data into the simulation to escalate the battle.

Thor twirled Mjolnir in a blur, the air around him charged with static, his cape fluttering in an unseen wind. He slammed the hammer into his palm once, and the sound echoed like a cannon.

Hulk cracked his neck, then his knuckles.

"You want round two?" he growled, baring his teeth. "GOOD."

WHOOOM!

He leapt again, a seismic boom following in his wake. Thor met him mid-air, swinging Mjolnir in a wide arc that collided with Hulk's forearm. Sparks erupted from the impact, the sheer force sending a shockwave that shattered trees in the background of the simulated plain.

Hulk twisted midair, grabbing Thor's cape and swinging him like a ragdoll into the ground below. Thor hit the earth hard, but rebounded instantly, lightning exploding around him as he thrust Mjolnir upward again, this time not just to strike, but to summon.

The sky darkened.

A storm unlike any Earth had known churned above. Black clouds rolled in, and for a moment, even the room's control systems struggled to manage the simulated energy. Purple lightning crackled above them like the wrath of ancient gods.

William narrowed his eyes from the observation platform. "Oh… the ship really wants to push him now."

Thor raised Mjolnir skyward and brought it down in a massive arc.

KRAK-A-KROOOOOM!!!

The bolt that struck Hulk wasn't just lightning, it was the full, unfettered wrath of the storm.

The explosion engulfed the entire field in white light.

The air trembled. The grass vanished. The distant hills flattened. Even William had to shield his eyes for a second.

When the brightness faded, Hulk stood in a crater, blackened and scorched, one knee on the ground, body steaming.

But he was smiling.

The grin widened as Hulk slammed his fists into the earth, creating a shockwave that dispersed the residual lightning around him like mist. He roared up at the simulated god, green eyes glowing.

"You hit harder than lightning, I EAT for breakfast!"

He charged again, his feet tearing the earth with each stomp.

Thor descended like a comet, hammer swinging, but this time, Hulk ducked under it, twisting with surprising agility and driving his shoulder into Thor's midsection, lifting him off the ground and spiking him into a boulder with enough force to split it apart.

Thor retaliated with a headbutt, lightning flashing between their skulls, and spun to deliver a wide, lightning-fueled strike with Mjolnir.

CRACK!

It connected with Hulk's side, sending the titan tumbling. But Hulk rolled with it, flipping upright, now grinning wildly, blood running down his lip.

He spat, wiped his chin, and slammed his fists together.

"C'mon, Thunder Boy. SHOW ME A STORM."

Thor raised Mjolnir again, but Hulk was already moving. Faster now. Meaner. The room registered the increase in stress on Hulk's cardiovascular system and dialed the simulation higher.

Thor hurled Mjolnir with a whistle through the air, aiming for Hulk's chest.

But Hulk caught it.

The hammer hit his palm with a jolt of divine force, but his hand held firm. His knees bent. His arm trembled. But Hulk didn't fall.

"I SAID. SHOW ME!"

With a snarl, Hulk yanked the hammer toward himself, Thor came with it, and Hulk delivered a brutal combination: left jab to the ribs, uppercut to the chin, elbow to the spine, and finally a leaping haymaker that sent the Asgardian spiraling skyward.

Thor flipped in mid-air, summoned Mjolnir back to his grip, and hurtled down like a bolt from the heavens.

The moment before impact, Hulk leapt to meet him.

They collided with the full fury of gods and monsters.

BOOOOOOM!

The blast of their impact knocked back even the viewing platform's shielding. For a few seconds, the entire simulation shimmered on the edge of overload.

William let out a low whistle. "Okay, that was new."

The dust settled slowly.

Hulk rose first, limping slightly, but his chest still heaving with adrenaline. Thor was on one knee, armor cracked, blood trailing from his brow.

Mjolnir spun in his hand one final time.

But Hulk moved first.

He darted in, faking a right hook, then slammed both fists together like a hammer of his own, crushing Thor between them. The simulation's internal systems reported massive damage to the Asgardian construct's structural matrix.

Thor collapsed to both knees.

Hulk wasn't done.

He grabbed the simulated god by the chestplate, lifted him over his head, and with a victorious bellow—

SLAMMED Thor to the ground.

Dust flew. The simulated god twitched once, then went still. His hammer clattered to the ground nearby.

The storm above vanished, the skies clearing, the grass regrowing under Hulk's feet as the room responded to the battle's end.

There was a pause. Then—

RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!

Hulk threw his arms into the air, his roar shaking the walls. He stood atop the downed Thor clone like a titan claiming victory over Olympus, chest out, fists clenched, head thrown back in sheer joy.

His voice boomed like rolling thunder.

"I WIN!!!"

The room acknowledged the victory with a soft chime. The environment began resetting, wiping away scorch marks and repairing the broken terrain.

William clapped slowly from the observation deck, smiling.

"Well," he muttered to himself, "I guess I did say go wild."

Hulk turned, still grinning, breathing heavily. "That was FUN."

William nodded. "The room's yours any time, big guy. Just… maybe warn the crew first."

Hulk looked down at the sparking remains of the simulated Thor and laughed, a deep, rumbling laugh that echoed through the Harbinger of Ruin.

While Hulk stood roaring triumphantly on the Harbinger of Ruin, high above Sakaar's churning skies, deep beneath the planet's crust, something ancient and extraordinary stirred.

The multicolored core, once a chaotic swirl of conflicting energy, blazing red fury, roiling yellow fear, emerald green will, and more, began to contract, folding in upon itself with a gravitational grace. It churned, twisted, then melted into one unified whole. The fusion didn't erase the colors, it harmonized them. The furious spectrum condensed into a radiant, bronze luminescence, warm and brilliant, as if the very soul of Sakaar had chosen a new path.

A pulse burst from the core, a sweeping wave of bronze light, cutting through every layer of stone and metal like it wasn't there at all. It surged out into the hollow spaces of the planet like a divine breath.

In its center, the core pulsed, taking on shape.

The bronze glow shimmered, bending inward, forming a symbol: a perfect circle intersected by two descending lines that met and closed again, a sigil like a kettlebell, or perhaps the weight of a burden lifted through choice. It shimmered in place for a heartbeat, then burned into existence, searing itself into the very walls of the chamber.

And then, from within the molten light, a voice emerged.

It was not human. It was synthetic, yet not cold. Powerful, but not cruel. A voice like a furnace forged in logic and layered in ancient song:

"Through fury, fear, and hardened will,I stand where weaker hearts turn still.In bronze-born fire, I carve my fate,The Resolute shall not abate!"

The words thrummed like a mantra, and as the final syllable echoed out across Sakaar, the core erupted in a pillar of bronze flame. But this flame did not burn, it transformed. It did not consume, it empowered. And from that celestial inferno, several distinct streams of bronze energy tore free, like comet trails of purpose, arcing across the planet.

One of them veered toward the gladiator pits, long abandoned by most of Sakaar's elite. There, in the blackened corner of a holding cell, sat a stone man, hulking, silent, and forgotten by time. A creature made of cracked rock and weathered scars, his eyes dim from years of battle and betrayal. He did not sleep. He merely waited.

The light found him.

The room exploded in radiance. He stood in alarm, shielding his face, as a shape emerged from the light, a ring, shimmering with geometric perfection, surrounded by arcs of gentle, golden-amber fire.

Then the voice returned, deeper and more personal now, like it knew him.

"Your resolve is unbroken.Through fury, fear, and fire, you endured.Your will stands tempered, not untouched.You are more than rage, more than fear, more than will...You are the harmony forged in hardship.You have the strength to act and the clarity to choose.Welcome to the Resolute Order.You are a Bronze Lantern."

The ring surged forward.

It reformed in the air, reshaping itself mid-flight to fit his thick, stony fingers, wrapping perfectly around his left hand like it had been waiting for him all his life. The moment it touched his skin, a wave of power radiated outward. Bronze energy surged over his body in an instant.

A suit materialized, sleek, angular, yet fully contoured to his rocky physique. No helmet, no cape, just precision and utility in every glowing line. He raised his hands, marveling at how weightless he felt for the first time in decades. Then his feet lifted off the floor.

"Woah…" he gasped. His voice, gravelly and broken, was almost childlike in wonder.

He floated higher, a glowing aura surrounding him, his battle-worn eyes reflecting a flame that would never dim.

Miles away, on the far side of Sakaar's broken plains, beneath the scorching sun, a figure stumbled across the dunes.

A young woman, red-skinned and proud, her long dark hair tied into tight coils, staggered under the weight of her journey. Her aristocratic garb was torn and sand-scorched, her boots worn down to the sole. Sweat caked her brow, and her once-firm stride had devolved into a determined crawl.

She was exhausted, body trembling, skin cracked. But her eyes, those stern, unblinking eyes, burned with defiance. Her father, a noble who dared challenge the emperor's greed, had been slain publicly for his principles. She had sworn revenge, but that vow had brought her here: dying in the desert, friendless and forgotten.

Her knees finally gave out with a painful crack against the sun-baked stone. She clenched her fists, trying to rise, but her strength was spent.

Then, through the heat haze, a glow approached.

A bronze comet streaked across the desert sky, impossibly fast, yet silent. She winced, shielding her eyes, assuming it was a death strike.

She refused to flinch.

If this was the end, she would face it head-on.

But no fire consumed her.

Just… warmth. Gentle, blinding warmth.

She opened her eyes.

Floating before her was a ring, wrapped in glowing glyphs and suspended in a halo of bronze fire. It pulsed gently, like it was breathing, waiting, offering.

"Your resolve is unbroken.Through fury, fear, and fire, you endured.Your will stands tempered, not untouched.You are more than rage, more than fear, more than will...You are the harmony forged in hardship.You have the strength to act and the clarity to choose.Welcome to the Resolute Order.You are a Bronze Lantern."

Her cracked lips trembled. She hadn't smiled in weeks, but now, through the tears, a radiant smile broke through.

The ring floated forward and slid onto her finger.

The moment it did, she sat upright as though gravity had reversed. Energy surged through her body. Her aches vanished. Her mind cleared. A uniform of light and woven bronze enveloped her, wrapping around her form like a second skin. Regal, armored, elegant. A queen reborn from a rebel.

She hovered gently off the ground, hair now alive with energy. Her breath caught.

"I'm not done," she whispered. "I will finish what I started."

And then, without a sound, she rocketed skyward.

Back at the heart of Sakaar, the bronze core pulsed again.

Its work on the planet complete, it turned outward, toward the stars.

Two final tendrils of bronze light curled upward into the sky, gaining speed, no, not just speed. Warp velocity.

The two lights pierced through the clouds like divine spears, twisting across the atmosphere and vanishing into the stars. They arced through space like bronze shooting stars, seeking those across the galaxy whose hearts remained unyielding.

The Resolute Order had risen.

While the Harbinger of Ruin trembled with distant shockwaves, echoes of the Hulk's joyful rampage in the training chamber, William sat upon his throne in the ship's command sanctum.

The chamber was vast and dark, illuminated only by threads of pulsing energy running through the obsidian walls like veins of molten light. At its center, floating before William, a holographic star map slowly spun in three dimensions, an interactive web of cosmic routes, stellar masses, and volatile energy signatures pulsing like cosmic heartbeats.

Planets rotated serenely within their orbits. Systems twinkled with life, conflict, or silence. But William's gaze was sharp, cutting through it all.

His emerald eyes narrowed.

A pulsing violet flare blinked in and out on the outer edge of the map, an anomaly. A surge of massive energy, irregular but unmistakably deliberate.

With a subtle motion of his fingers, a rune-like prompt hovered over the signature. The map's glow intensified, and with a soft chime, the hologram shifted, zooming in on the disturbance.

Before him emerged a scene: a distant sector, its solar system orbiting a strange, crackling purple sun, dark and angry, rimmed in shadow. Orbiting it were ships, dozens of them, clad in blackened metal and obsidian hulls etched with claw-like patterns.

Familiar silhouettes. A sickening chill coiled in William's gut, followed immediately by burning fury.

"Those are Thanos' men…" he muttered, his voice low, edged like a blade.

He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees. His face twisted into a knowing grin, sharp and unforgiving. The memory of Asgard, the destruction, the chaos, the blood, flickered behind his eyes like old film. He remembered what those ships had done. What they had tried to take. Who they had tried to break.

"You picked the wrong star to hide behind," he said, almost to himself, his voice echoing faintly in the chamber.

With a focused thought, the Harbinger responded. Runes lit up along the floor and walls in reaction to his intent. The ship, alive with its own quasi-sentience, felt his fury, and it hungered to act.

Beneath the throne, the deck shuddered. A deep, harmonic rumble began to rise as the ship's quantum drives activated. Stars outside the window distorted. The very fabric of reality around the ship began to bend and pulse.

Lines of white and gold crisscrossed the void, forming a tunnel of collapsing light.

"Plot a course," William said aloud, voice steady and imperial. "Straight through their hearts."

The star map folded in on itself as the Harbinger locked onto the coordinates. In moments, the ship's prow pointed toward the anomaly.

The hull shimmered as its armor adapted for warp stress. The training deck dimmed. Lights across the corridors flickered and aligned in unison.

Then came the moment of silence.

A breath.

A pause.

And then—

FWOOM.

Reality folded. Space tore.

The Harbinger of Ruin vanished from its place in orbit, leaving behind only a ripple in the stars, its path forged like a lance through the cosmos.