Ronan was eliminated.
Along with the Sakaaran Warriors and Necrocraft under his command, he was chased down and beaten by the howling Guardian Corps squad.
Once the army was defeated, everything collapsed...
Only when the last Necrocraft crashed did the people of Xandar realize:
The war—was won!
They ran about cheering, crying as they embraced one another...
The shadow of war that had hung over their heads for years was finally completely dispelled.
If the defensive barrier formed by the Nova Starfighters was the sturdy shield protecting them,
then the Guardian Corps' attacks were the mightiest sword cutting down Ronan's ambition to destroy a nation.
Which was stronger was obvious at a glance.
That little pink-skinned girl never forgot to send Rocket an invitation, even when she got married.
She sincerely hoped that her furry, somewhat violent yet exceptionally dependable lifesaver would honor her by attending her happy occasion.
She wanted so badly to hug Rocket.
To thank her for saving her and her mother's lives.
From then on, raccoon plushies were the only kind of dolls in her room.
There were many more stories like the girl's.
All were cases of people whose lives had been preserved under the Guardian Corps' powerful protection amid the Necrocraft's indiscriminate attacks.
Worthy of the Guardian Corps indeed.
The little girl was fortunate; at least she knew what her raccoon savior looked like.
Many more people did not even know exactly who had saved them.
They only knew that they were warriors of the Guardian Corps.
From then on, the Galaxy Guard Corps' standing in the hearts of Xandar's people was unmatched.
Those burgundy uniforms and starfighters became symbols of strength, justice, and freedom in the eyes of every young person.
If the Nova Corps was the empire's disciplined shield, then the Galaxy