Arthur was hungry, but it was clear this wasn't the kind of hunger that could be cured with a plate of food. And swallowing the head of some ancient creature certainly wouldn't help either.
It wasn't physical hunger.
It was something deeper.
Spiritual. Existential. A gnawing emptiness that no meal could fix.
Not that the Collector could understand that kind of craving.
The moment Arthur mentioned being hungry, the Collector snapped his fingers for his attendants. "Actually, I've cultivated quite a palate for interstellar cuisine."
Arthur didn't protest, but he clearly wasn't interested. Still, when the serving girl walked off, he didn't stop her.
Instead, he reached out, tracing the Eye of Horus rune mid-air, his link to the Disassembler System, and turned to the Collector.
"Thanos."
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The Collector's expression changed drastically, his voice sharp with panic. "How do you know that name?"
"No special reason," Arthur said flatly. "I'm here because of him."
"No," the Collector shook his head slowly, the color draining from his face. "No one should know that. Unless... unless you have the same abilities I do?"
"You mean… seeing the future?"
Arthur's lips curled slightly. That ability, foretelling fate, was the exact thing that made people like Odin and the Ancient One so uneasy.
The Collector froze again, this time in disbelief. "How… how do you know so much?"
Was this some kind of cosmic joke?
Who could see the future?
Why did Arthur seem to know everything, while he was left in the dark?
"Can we skip the pointless theatrics?" Arthur interrupted. "I want to know everything about the Soul Stone. Every detail you've got."
The Collector narrowed his eyes, suspicion creeping in. "What's your connection to Thanos?" He looked like he was ready to bolt at any second.
Thor silently rolled Mjolnir in his palm, his gaze casually drifting toward the Collector's bizarre displays. He didn't speak, but the implied threat was loud and clear.
He wasn't sure what Arthur was planning, but he'd chosen to trust him for now.
The Collector's lips twitched before he finally sank into his chair with a resigned sigh.
"Fine. I'll tell you what I know. But in return, I want to know what you're after. Are you siding with Thanos to end this world, or are you one of those fools trying to stop him? Because I'll be honest, if that's your plan, your current power isn't even close to enough."
Arthur took a deep breath, trying to ease the ache in his soul, that strange hunger he didn't yet understand.
Then he coughed lightly. "What about you? Planning to help Thanos destroy the universe, or just planning to hide out here while he does?"
"…Me?"
The Collector scoffed. "I don't waste time with such suicidal ambitions."
"No ambitions at all, huh? Must be nice." Arthur said it honestly.
If he could, he would trade places. He'd love to be the one hiding in this museum of cosmic oddities while someone else ran around trying to stop Thanos.
But... that wasn't an option.
Because hiding here would only end one way: death.
Arthur smiled faintly. "Can you see the futures of others? What about your own? Have you seen it yet, the Knowhere swallowed in fire, your archives crumbling while you stand there, helpless?"
Thor blinked in surprise. That meant Arthur had seen it himself.
He could see the future.
The Collector, however, paled further, shaking his head violently. "No… no, that won't happen! I won't end that way, I won't die!"
Arthur swallowed again, his voice grim. "Whether you die or not… that's not your decision. When he comes for you, what do you have to stop him? Those shiny, useless trophies you call collectibles?"
Truthfully, Arthur had been excited about the Collector's trove before arriving.
Even if he couldn't find what he came for, he figured he could at least walk away with something valuable.
But after arriving?
There was nothing but disappointment in his heart.
This guy wasn't a collector of power or weaponry. He collected uniqueness, which meant nothing to Arthur.
A pristine alien blade, for instance, even if mundane, could charge with energy.
But a twelve-headed flower that screamed in pain when touched? That's just bizarre. The Collector adored it. Arthur just wanted to blast it into dust rather than waste Disassembler storage space on it.
The Collector's face turned deathly pale.
To him, those collectibles were everything. Arthur mocking them cut deep, like a child being told his toys were junk.
Arthur chuckled softly, exhaling. "Let's not waste more time. Tell me what I want to know… or else, "
He glanced around the room, eyes twinkling with challenge.
"Even if they are trash, I wouldn't mind walking out with all of it."
"You dare threaten a Elder?"
The Collector's tone turned icy, and a moment later, the room shifted.
Pressure, immense, suffocating, descended like a crashing wave.
In a flash, Arthur summoned the Abominaton, a towering entity over three meters tall, its grotesque musculature warping with raw, unnatural strength. The energy it exuded wasn't visible to most, but the Collector sensed it instantly. His face twitched.
"I'm not here to pick a fight," Arthur said calmly. "I have a job to do. That's all."
He took a step forward, his tone turning firm. "Tell me what I want to know... and we'll walk out peacefully. Otherwise? I'll just take something from your vault. Either way, you decide."
"…"
The Collector was on the verge of tears. This was harassment, cosmic-level harassment!
He had existed for eons, but that didn't mean he specialized in combat. And the three standing before him? Not exactly what you'd call reasonable guests. Each one exuded danger.
Slumping back in his chair, he sighed deeply. "Fine… I understand…"
Just then, the assistant, wearing the synthetic skin of Carina, returned, balancing a tray of exotic alien cuisine. But what she saw made her pause.
The Collector was holding his head in his hands, practically weeping. "Scammers! Every one of them, scammers!"
"Master…?"
Carina blinked, slightly dazed by the scene.
"They promised me!" the Collector howled. "Said if I told them, they'd leave quietly. But if I refused, they'd steal something! So I told them! And then, they stole it anyway!"
Carina furrowed her brow. The logic wasn't wrong… but she couldn't help suppressing a laugh at the Collector's theatrics.
Still, she was confused. "Were they asking about… the Soul Stone?"
The Collector's expression changed instantly. He turned to her, placed a trembling hand on her forehead, and whispered, "Forget everything. Right now."
As his hand fell, his expression contorted, anger, fear, calculation, all blending together.
"I have a bad feeling they'll be back…" he muttered.
Then, decisively, he stood. "No, we're moving. Pack everything. We're relocating immediately."
(End of Chapter)
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