Night settled over Brooklyn like a funeral cloth.
The city never truly became quiet. Somewhere outside, a drunk argued beside the streetcars. Dogs barked in distant alleys. Factory smoke continued staining the sky long after sunset, while the faint sound of coughing echoed from neighboring apartments like a grim reminder that death walked freely through New York these days.
Inside his small room, Elias Rogers locked the door.
Then he closed the curtains.
Every movement was deliberate.
Careful.
Measured.
Because he understood something most people never would:
Mysticism was dangerous long before the power arrived.
Fear, symbolism, ritual, intent—these things mattered.
Even in Lord of the Mysteries, countless Beyonders lost control not because they lacked strength, but because they lacked caution.
Elias inhaled slowly and placed the ingredients onto the table one by one.
A brass cup.
Cheap liquor.
Powdered herbs.
Silver dust.
And finally—
A small folded paper containing dark crimson crystals.
His gaze lingered on it.
The main ingredient.
His fingers tightened slightly.
In the original world, Sequence formulas required extraordinary ingredients tied to mystical creatures or corruption. There was no reason they should exist naturally in Marvel's universe.
Yet somehow…
They did.
Not perfectly identical.
But close enough.
Over the past few years, before his awakening fully stabilized, his body had unconsciously searched for strange things. Certain plants made him feel "spiritually cold." Certain minerals caused headaches. Certain places gave him instinctive discomfort.
As if the pathway itself had been guiding him.
Or adapting.
That possibility disturbed him more than he wanted to admit.
Because adaptation implied intelligence.
And intelligence implied intention.
Elias lit the candles carefully.
Their flames flickered weakly against the dark room.
Then he began drawing the symbol.
Not a full ritualistic array.
Just enough.
Enough to stabilize spirituality.
Enough to avoid unnecessary attention.
His fingers moved slowly across the wooden table using silver powder mixed with ash, forming the incomplete symbol of The Fool.
The moment the final line connected—
The room became colder.
Elias froze instantly.
His instincts screamed.
Not danger.
Observation.
Something was looking.
The candle flames stretched unnaturally for half a second before returning to normal.
Elias' expression darkened.
"…So it's real."
Not imagination.
Not hallucination.
The gray fog existed here too.
He forced himself not to panic.
Panic killed Beyonders.
Control first.
Emotion later.
He poured the ingredients into the brass cup one by one while silently reciting the Seer formula from memory.
The liquid gradually transformed into a murky violet color.
Tiny bubbles surfaced slowly.
Like breathing.
Elias stared at it silently.
In Marvel, super soldiers were created through science.
Gamma mutates through radiation.
Mutants through genetics.
But Beyonders…
Beyonders tampered with fate itself.
That was what made them horrifying.
A Seer at high Sequence could deceive reality.
An Error could steal identities, powers, even destiny.
And The Fool…
Elias didn't even want to think about that pathway's end.
He exhaled slowly.
"No hesitation."
The moment you feared the potion, you already lost half the battle.
Without giving himself time to reconsider, Elias lifted the cup and drank everything.
The bitterness hit instantly.
Then pain.
Violent pain.
It felt like molten metal pouring through his veins while invisible fingers dug directly into his brain. Elias nearly collapsed against the table as distorted whispers exploded inside his skull.
Countless voices.
Laughing.
Praying.
Crying.
Madness surged through him like a tidal wave.
His vision blurred.
The room twisted.
For a terrifying moment, Brooklyn vanished entirely.
Instead—
He saw endless gray fog.
Ancient bronze chairs.
A long table stretching into infinity.
And above it all…
A presence sitting at the highest seat.
Blurred.
Indistinct.
Watching him.
Elias' entire body went cold.
He instantly lowered his gaze.
Even knowing this might only be symbolic, instinct screamed at him not to look directly.
The whispers intensified.
His thoughts began fragmenting apart.
Then—
He remembered the acting method.
Seer.
Observe.
Remain calm.
A Seer seeks knowledge.
A Seer understands patterns.
Do not resist the madness directly.
Guide it.
Elias forced his breathing steady.
He observed the whispers instead of fearing them.
Listened without sinking.
Watched without accepting.
Gradually…
The pain lessened.
The gray fog faded.
And reality returned.
Elias collapsed onto the wooden floor, breathing heavily.
Sweat soaked through his shirt.
But his eyes—
His eyes had changed.
They became deeper somehow.
Sharper.
Like hidden layers existed beneath the surface now.
For several minutes, he remained completely still.
Then slowly…
He looked toward the candle flame.
The world shifted.
Information surfaced instinctively.
Tiny details.
Airflow.
Heat movement.
Microexpressions in memory.
Patterns.
Connections.
His thoughts processed faster than before.
Not dramatically.
But enough.
Elias swallowed dryly.
"It worked…"
A laugh almost escaped him.
Not from joy.
From disbelief.
The Beyonder pathway truly existed here.
That changed everything.
Because now the future was no longer fixed.
Steve Rogers might still become Captain America.
But the world itself?
The world had become infinitely more dangerous.
A sudden knock startled him from his thoughts.
"Uncle Eli?"
Steve's voice came softly through the door.
"You awake?"
Elias instantly concealed the ritual materials.
"Yeah."
The door creaked open carefully.
Steve stepped inside holding an old blanket around his shoulders. The boy looked sleepy but stubbornly curious.
"You forgot the story."
Elias blinked.
For a second, he had genuinely forgotten.
The child walked closer and frowned slightly.
"You look weird."
That made Elias pause.
A normal person shouldn't notice anything immediately.
But children…
Children sometimes sensed things adults ignored.
Especially spiritually sensitive ones.
An unpleasant possibility surfaced in his mind.
In Marvel lore, enhanced humans and mystically gifted individuals often displayed abnormalities from childhood.
Elias studied Steve carefully.
The boy shifted awkwardly beneath his gaze.
"What?"
"…Nothing."
For now.
Steve climbed onto the nearby chair, blanket wrapped tightly around himself.
"So what's tonight's story?"
Elias looked toward the frosted window silently.
After a moment, he spoke.
"Once… there was a man who wanted to become a god."
Steve's eyes immediately lit up.
"But the closer he got," Elias continued quietly, "the less human he became."
Outside the apartment, snow continued falling over Brooklyn.
And somewhere deep beneath the ocean—
Something ancient opened its eyes.