Chapter Seventy-Seven - Galactus: Hunger Beyond Good and Evil

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

Galactus: Hunger Beyond Good and Evil

HE ISN’T A villain. He isn’t a god. He isn’t even a “he.”

Galactus is a force. A leftover. The last survivor of the universe before this one, a remnant of a dying cosmos reborn in the Big Bang. Where others died, he transformed. When this universe bloomed, he awoke starving.

His hunger isn’t metaphor. It’s physics. He doesn’t devour planets because he enjoys it. He does it because he must. Because without it, he would wither, and the balance of everything would break. His existence is both necessity and nightmare, a cosmic engine that runs on life.

He wears armor not for protection, but for containment. He speaks in riddles not out of cruelty, but because no mortal mind could bear his raw truth. He sees time differently. He sees morality differently. He is different. And yet, he has rules.

He chooses Heralds to find his meals, not just as assistants, but as a twisted form of mercy. Galactus does not want to destroy life, but he will. He must. And if a Herald can find him a planet without sentience, all the better. But if not?

Then even the innocent burn.

To some, he’s a god. To others, a demon. To the Watchers, a necessary evil. But Galactus doesn’t care how you see him. You’re a grain of sand on the beach of eternity. If he steps on you, it wasn’t personal.

Galactus is not the end of everything. Just the middle. The unmaking that makes room for creation. He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t beg. He just is.

And if you ever see him in the sky?

It’s already too late.