In the Domain of Lost, atop the Contest Tower on the chaotic junk planet Sakaar.
The ruler of Sakaar, known as the "Grandmaster," was scratching his head as he stared at the red, glassy table before him. Pale blue screens flickered and rolled across its surface, displaying the profiles and information of the gladiators currently competing in the Contest of Champions.
"Hmm, Korg, a Kronan from Ria, a silicon-based man of molten rock, over two meters forty tall. Hmph, trash. The modified insect Miek—those many-legged blades are junk too!"
"Shi'ar, Chitauri, Kree—trash, trash, trash! All trash!"
The Grandmaster squatted on the floor in a sleazy manner, like a bratty child sorting through his favorite toys. He fiddled with the gladiator roster, cursing and grumbling as he shoved away dozens of holographic models in a fit of pique. He kicked out his legs, rolled his eyes, and threw a tantrum. After a bout of frantic scratching, he suddenly fell silent.
"...If only I could get my hands on an Eternal. A god would do, too. A Titan... I think they're nearly extinct. Sigh, none of these gladiators are worthy opponents for this Wolverine. Watching a fight that isn't evenly matched is no fun. I should've known better than to sell that electric horse-face to Tivan."
The Grandmaster rolled his eyes as he muttered, then tousled his sparse gray-white hair and scratched his scalp, his face contorted in misery.
In recent days, the human gladiator nicknamed Wolverine had streaked through the Sakaar arena, leaving no one who could stand against him.
In the eyes of this mysterious "Contest of Champions Saint," the new champion's current performance didn't rank among the best of all time. But nearly every warrior who became Sakaar's ultimate champion tried or demanded to leave the planet.
That meant