It was a sensation nearly impossible to describe.
Ian was physically standing on the soil of the End of Time. Yet, his vision seemed to pierce through the toxic air and endless mountains of trash, falling into a magnificent realm beyond words.
It was a boundless cosmic starry sky that transcended physical concepts. The stars were not simple luminaries; they were individual manifestations of the birth, evolution, and decay of all things. Every formation represented a certain object or rule existing in the world.
The river of time manifested here as a winding, flowing ribbon of light. The dimensions of space were like layers of overlapping transparent veils. And in the deepest reaches of this starry sky, several figures so massive they surpassed the very concept of "existence" stood silently.
Ian saw Infinity. She was the sum of all space, her form shifting infinitely, a goddess seemingly composed of countless galaxies, nebulae, and voids. Her very presence defined the word "vast."
He saw Oblivion. He was the antithesis of existence, absolute nothingness and termination, appearing as a humanoid darkness that devoured all light and concepts.
Merely perceiving him instilled ultimate dread. Likewise, Oblivion was hailed as one of the gods in the universe whose potential was most likely to surpass even Eternity.
Ian also saw the leader of the Five Essential Gods, Eternity. Eternity was the collective of all timelines, his image constantly fluid, woven from every event of the past, present, and future. He was the personification of the universe's lifespan.
And Death was a woman draped in black robes, her figure slender yet radiating the aura of an equal end to all life. Her physical manifestation appeared as a massive skeleton wrapped in black.
"She's not nearly as good-looking as Mistress Death from back home. And she doesn't look filial at all—she hasn't raised her grandmother to be 'big' at all," Ian couldn't help but judge subconsciously.
With just one look, he knew he didn't like the Marvel version of Death. And Death perhaps felt the same about him. Unlike the pure indifference of the other gods, when her gaze pierced through infinite dimensions to land on Ian, it seemed to carry an extremely complex emotion.
There was scrutiny, dissatisfaction, and even... a hint of inexplicable hostility? Of course, these were things Ian currently had no mind to focus on.
Ian's thoughts were on his current state. Amidst the sudden accident, what shocked him most was that he felt he wasn't looking up at these supreme cosmic gods.
His "perspective" was actually on equal footing.
It was as if he naturally belonged there, standing alongside Infinity, Eternity, Oblivion, and Death, together silently watching the countless bubbles of universes rising and falling below. An indescribable, massive sense of perception—as if he had become a part of the fundamental rules of the universe—filled his consciousness.
"I can even connect to the Cosmic Consciousness and look up information stored within it. This Cosmic Consciousness is just like the Heavenly Library that angels use."
"It brings me a state of omniscience under its coverage... as long as the information or knowledge exists in the world, I can look it up through my will!"
Ian experienced his profound and mysterious transformation, then looked up again at the four gods nearby. In the Marvel Universe, there should be five essential gods. Now, among the gods appearing in Ian's eyes, the only one missing was the one who fed on planets.
"So..."
Ian's super-brain worked at high speed. His expression was somewhat shocked, as if he had suddenly realized a problem at this moment. This situation could not be a coincidence.
The Five Essential Gods were indispensable to the operation of the universe. Because of this...
"I've become the new generation Galactus?" He looked sharply at the "tattooed," no-longer-pure palm of his hand, which had just absorbed the entire temporal monster, Alioth.
At this moment, although the skin on Ian's palm looked smooth, it had ultimately been "defiled" by the tattoo. That mysterious brand seemed to leave behind some invisible connection.
He could almost see a miniature swimming dragon appearing on his hand. Or rather, it looked more like a strange cosmic tapeworm docilely coiled within the dimension of his palm.
"It seems my previous guess wasn't wrong. This thing is now being nurtured in my palm, which triggered some mechanism in the universe I didn't know about, causing me to directly promote my status in this universe. I've become the new generation—and definitely the strongest generation—of Galactus?"
Ian was once again impressed by his own wisdom, adding a touch of narcissism for good measure. His brain worked at a rare high speed, trying to understand this bizarre situation.
A cosmic tapeworm is enough to take over the position of Galactus? Isn't this promotion channel a bit too wild?
"Um..."
Just as Ian tried to speak, intending to ask his "new colleagues" on equal footing what exactly was going on, he saw the images of the four gods begin to warp.
Immediately afterward, the scene before him blurred and twisted like smoke blown away by the wind, then vanished completely. The howling wind, carrying the dust and rust scent unique to the End of Time, rushed into his mouth and nose.
Ian was still standing on that boundless junkyard. Beneath his feet was soft waste. The grand and holy scene of the divine assembly earlier seemed like nothing more than an overly vivid hallucination.
"Look on the bright side."
Ian shook his head, trying to dispel the lingering shock while comforting himself with dark humor. "Eating and drinking in the Marvel Universe is indeed a legal activity now."
"Since I've taken over the lucrative vacancy of Galactus, my past devouring behaviors were simply me performing my duties... this is what I call 'One Certification, Eternal Truth'!"
"This 'Certification' is the certificate of a 'Iron Rice Bowl' government job! Once a Marvel civil servant, everything I do is legal!" Ian interpreted the concept of eternal truth in his own way once again.
He comforted himself like this for a reason. According to his Relativity of Joy and Sorrow, when one is very sad, one must think of happy things to balance the emotions.
As for why rising in "World Status" in the Marvel Universe would make Ian sad, the answer was obvious. Any smart person knows that American comic universes have "hidden attributes."
And the hidden attributes of Galactus were naturally self-evident.
Invincible. "Invincible" was practically a synonym for Galactus.
Ian's sadness stemmed from this. According to Galactus's famous character traits, wouldn't he also inherit the "Invincible" attribute—which is comparable to the "Great Emperor's Aura" in Xianxia novels? It sounds incredibly cool, but you're constantly getting beat down or passing out because you're hungry or for various other reasons.
"The invincible Ian has fallen again?"
Ian found it hard to accept such a visual. And just as his brain was working seriously for once, thinking about the benefits and risks of being a cosmic-level civil servant, a commotion from not far away pulled him back to reality.
"It can't be me! How can it be me?! I'm not close to that guy at all! Really! If you kill me, he won't power up! And look! He doesn't need a power-up anymore, does he? The problem is solved! Look! He's looking over! His gaze stayed on me for an extra second!"
"He definitely has a crush on me! This is love! You can't murder his love!" Who else could this annoying, talkative voice belong to but Deadpool?
Ian felt like his lines were being stolen, which is why he snapped out of it.
"Why is Deadpool here? Isn't he stealing my screen time?" Ian once prided himself on being the "DC Deadpool," so regarding the original Deadpool, he hoped the man would lose his original nature just like the other superheroes.
That way, even if Ian had to bring Deadpool back to his original state, Deadpool would forever lament that he lived in Ian's shadow. This was Ian's beautiful prayer from before.
However, hearing Deadpool's speech, Ian knew his wish had failed. Indeed, praying to oneself is even more unreliable than praying to God.
"What did you do to him?"
Ian followed the sound and saw a truly farcical scene: Deadpool was tied up tightly with thick iron chains found from God-knows-where. He was hanging upside down like a salted fish from the broken mast of a rusted giant ship half-buried in the ground—the famous RMS Titanic.
"Let me down! Whoever lets me down, I'll show them my big treasure that's longer than Harry Potter's wand!"
Deadpool was like a prisoner about to be executed in the Middle Ages, yet he still wouldn't quit, swinging back and forth with his tongue wagging non-stop.
"Shut up, you!"
Doctor Strange, Captain America, Thor (holding Baby Odin), Sylvie, and Little Morgan stood below, looking at Deadpool with expressions of helplessness and disgust.
"What's going on?"
Ian walked over, his face written with confusion. He had only been having a "close exchange" with the temporal monster for a little while; how did it feel like everyone in the world had gathered at this junkyard at the End of Time? And they were even putting on a BDSM play?
Since he lacked information on what happened in the Marvel Universe after his previous departure, Ian was currently in a "lagging version" mindset.
"Uncle Ian, it's like this..."
Seeing Ian come over, Morgan didn't seem surprised by his state. She immediately piloted her armor forward and gave her godfather a brief, concise summary of the situation.
Roughly, after Ian disappeared back to the DC Universe last time, Thor and Steve were taken by the TVA. She met Doctor Strange, and the two came together to rescue Thor and Cap. They encountered Ultron, a fight broke out, and finally, they had to blow up a part of the TVA to escape.
"Anyway, we worked very hard, and things ended up like this." Morgan Stark winked at Ian, providing him with a very skillful "previous episode recap."
Ian listened, stunned, processing the information. He keenly caught one point: "Wait, you said you and Doctor Strange? What about Gwen? She should have been with you, right?"
He remembered Gwen was acting with Morgan before.
"Miss Gwen?" Morgan froze, her little face instantly changing color. "Right... right! There's also Miss Gwen!"
She frantically looked left and right, searching in a panic, but as far as her eyes could see, there was only endless trash and ruins. Where was the shadow of Gwen Stacy?
"Could she... could she still be... inside the TVA... because of my... because of my explosion just now..." Morgan's eyes instantly became frantic. Her face went pale.
Although she had seen the world following her father and godfather, and had even fought in places like the Zombie Universe, the shock of personally causing the death of a companion was still too great for her.
"I... I killed someone?!"
Morgan's eyes rolled back; she looked like she might faint on the spot, her voice full of terror.
"Look over here! Look over here!" Seeing the little girl on the verge of emotional collapse, the hanging Deadpool started his performance again, forcibly pulling everyone's attention.
He spoke non-stop to Ian.
"Hey! Hey! The CFO of the Avengers! Your title is 'Manga Tearer,' right? I know you! And I know exactly what that look you just gave me meant! Don't deny it! As long as you agree to let me join the Avengers and sign for it, I'll let you bend me over a few times! How about it? A fair trade, right?"
Completely ignoring his pathetic state of being hung upside down, he continued talking to himself: "If I hadn't heard my daughter—twenty-eight days into the pregnancy in my wife's belly—hoping her dad could join the Avengers and be like a real hero, you wouldn't even dream of being shipped with your Great Grandpa Deadpool in this lifetime! You should just be happy!"
Deadpool wouldn't stop. Ian was instantly driven into a "small" rage by this perverted speech!
"Damn Marvel 'Southern Tong' (Gay)! Just a 'Grandpa' dares to speak to Lord Ian like that? Don't you know 'Lord' is a higher status than 'Grandpa'?"
He never liked communicating too much with mental patients because he always felt mental illness might be contagious. He directly spoke to Doctor Strange.
"Doctor, think of something to sew this guy's mouth shut! Too noisy!" The primary source of infection for a contagious disease is the mouth. Ian's method of handling it was perfectly sound.
Doctor Strange hesitated. He had been beaten up by this guy earlier; God knows if he had some sneak attack hidden up his sleeve—as a mage, his "skin" was very fragile.
Thor, however, was much braver. He had long been annoyed by Deadpool and was determined to avenge his father, Odin, whose purity had possibly been "defiled" under the guise of breastfeeding.
"Let me do it! I've been sick of this guy for a long time!" Thor carefully handed Baby Odin to the speechless Captain America and stepped forward, rubbing his hands together.
With a volunteer stepping up, Ian immediately nodded his big head.
"We have to deal with these perverts harshly. I can't let these weirdos give me psychological trauma and make me 'lock the chicken and seal my love' before I've even grown to the age where the little head controls the big head!" Ian glared with his Evil God eyes.
"Don't come any closer!"
Seeing this, Deadpool immediately began to struggle. He tried to reach for the Infinity Gauntlets on his belt, but soon discovered—the several spare Infinity Gauntlets originally hanging on his belt had been swiped by this group of "bad eggs" at some point!
"Mmph! You bunch of robbers! Thieves! Give me back my Infinity Gauntlets! I bought those with my own money!" Deadpool protested. The protest was ineffective.
A scalpel is still a knife. "Chef" Thor was sharpening his blade. Thor pressed forward step by step, his face carrying the roaring anger of a son seeking "revenge" and a hint of satisfaction at finally being able to vent.
The rusted surgical iron, a huge rusted sail-sewing needle, and thick fishing line in his hand flashed with ominous light under the eerie glow of the End of Time.
"You think your Grandpa Deadpool was raised on scares? You think I'm afraid of you? Eat my gas!" Deadpool, hanging upside down, rolled his eyes.
*Pru-ru-ru-ru—!!!*
Then, an extremely sudden, long, and even rhythmically eerie sound of a fart burst from Deadpool's buttocks, wrapped tightly in spandex! The sound was loud and lingering, echoing particularly harshly over the relatively quiet junkyard.
Everyone was stunned by this sudden "lifestyle attack," subconsciously taking half a step back. Even Thor paused, instinctively pinching his nose.
It was truly stinky.
Deadpool took advantage of this brief gap to actually try to "apologize" in a rapping tone.
"Yo~ Sorry~ Brother~ You know~ When I breathe~ I don't like letting air out~ So I chose to store up a wave of CO2, then let out a crazy fart~"
The rapping provocation made the already emotionally unstable Thor go "Red-Hot." Thor's face turned from red to green, then green to black!
The God of Thunder of Asgard, Guardian of the Nine Realms—when had he ever been subjected to such filthy provocation?! This was more insulting than being cut by Surtur!
"I'm going to sew your mouth so shut you won't even be able to let out a single word!" Thor roared. Lightning energy crackled uncontrollably over his body.
Seeing this, although his mouth was about to suffer, Deadpool's instinct for sass still overrode everything. "Wait! Don't! Bro! Calm down! As long as you spare my mouth, I'll... I'll skin the 'corn husk' of my 'corn cob' and make a pair of leather shoes for you! Pure natural! Breathable and sweat-absorbent! Guaranteed more comfortable than Frigga's woven shoes!"
"Don't mention my mother! Also, what the hell is a 'corn cob' skin?" Thor's movements paused, his face showing bewilderment and confusion. Clearly, he didn't understand this Earthly slang.
But Ian, standing nearby, understood! Ian's "small" rage instantly turned into "great" rage, like a bonfire doused in gasoline!
"You bastard!"
Ian was so angry he almost jumped. "You actually dare to show off at a time like this?! A 'corn cob'?! You only have a Coca-Cola bottle and you dare to flaunt it? Wait until I grow up..."
Before he could finish, Deadpool, seemingly finding a new direction for his death-seeking, cut him off: "I don't believe it! How can anyone's 'capital' be as big as a corn? Bragging is free! Your Grandpa Deadpool is the industry standard! A Coca-Cola bottle is already gifted! Unless you..."
Deadpool's words were interrupted by a rock thrown by Ian.
"Sew his Anus shut too! Yes! Sew it! Quick! No one understands Deadpool better than me! I firmly believe that even with just his ass, he can say things more disgusting than he does now!" Ian urged Thor.
Thor didn't quite understand the profound philosophical and technical issues of "talking with anus," but he pretended he did... no, he fully trusted Ian's judgment!
"I understand!" Thor nodded solemnly.
Doctor Strange took the opportunity to apply what he knew. "From the perspective of anatomy and mutant physiology, theoretically, in certain extreme mutation cases, the sphincter at the end of the urinary system can be remodeled to possess the function of simulating vocal cord vibration."
He was a genuine Doctor of Medicine; even if he was talking nonsense, he was still the authority in the New Justice League. After all, none of the people present, including the leader of the New Justice League, had graduated from college.
"Great insight, Doctor! This guy might have backup mouths hidden all over his body; it's impossible to guard against!" Ian nodded deeply. He had become the very villainous image he hated most.
"What! This isn't the Avengers I know! You can't all take scripts more twisted than mine!" Hearing that his "little head" was in danger, Deadpool finally broke. He always knew he was mentally ill, but he didn't expect this group's condition to be no lighter than his own!
Avengers! Where is your integrity? How can you discuss such a perverted yet seemingly scientific plan so seriously?
"Damn it! No! This is what happens to heroes after their Heroic Hearts are stolen! Homelander's team is friendlier than you!" Deadpool twisted frantically. He looked in panic at the approaching Thor.
"We're all Avengers! Give me a chance! Leave me a hole! In case... in case you're infertile in the future... I can help you... mmph-mmph-mmph!!!"
Before he could finish, Thor had already plunged the needle without hesitation! The technique was precise, the stitching dense, full of the "unique craftsmanship" of Asgardian artisans.
Thor had been a cook after all; his handiwork was quite good. In a few quick moves, he skillfully sewed Deadpool's non-stop mouth shut tight!
The world was finally, completely quiet. Only Deadpool's desperate, muffled whimpers remained. His sewn mouth made rapid "mmph-mmph" sounds. A look of true panic appeared in his eyes because Thor was preparing to sew other places.
"Stop!"
It was Sylvie who couldn't watch anymore. Holding her head, she stopped this group of people—who were even more perverted than the villains she had seen—from attempting an inhumane body modification on Deadpool.
Seeing that Deadpool could no longer speak, Ian didn't insist. He wasn't a true pervert after all; he just didn't want Deadpool saying those filthy words to him.
"Let's talk about Gwen again."
Ian's gaze turned to the still-dazed and guilt-ridden Little Morgan. The girl's face was pale and her eyes hollow, clearly still immersed in the massive shock of "I might have blown up Gwen."
"Think carefully, at the very end... what did Gwen look like when she was blown up? Was her head still there?" If the demon Baal hadn't been kept away by Ian recently, Baal would definitely know that Ian was trying to express his reluctance to let go of a friend—by keeping them by his side just like him.
"I think... I think..."
Ian's words seemed to reopen Morgan's wound. her expression became more and more vacant, her lips trembling, looking like she was about to completely break down and cry.
Sylvie sighed and answered for Morgan. "Based on the scale and nature of the explosion at the time, being at the heart of it... Gwen Stacy's flesh and blood probably don't have a speck left. My condolences."
Her tone was calm, having seen plenty of life and death on the timelines. However, hearing this, Ian didn't show an expression of sadness or anger. He closed his eyes, as if perceiving something. As the Sovereign of Mutation, Ian's perception of his "kin" had become exceptionally keen.
At least Gwen's soul hadn't been scattered.
A moment later, Ian opened his eyes. The corners of his mouth actually pulled a bit, trying hard to make a "Crooked Dragon King" style smile, though the effect was a bit horrifying.
"No need to panic," Ian said with a mysterious tone of confidence. He stood up, patted Morgan's shoulder, and began to brag: "Uncle Ian has quite a bit of 'face' in the universe now! Once I find Gwen's soul, I'll personally craft a brand-new, top-tier body for her!"
"I'll use the hardest Adamantium and Uru metal for the skeleton! Titanium alloy for the outer layer! Golden pectoral muscles! Guaranteed to be invulnerable, with physical and magical resistance maxed out!"
"Also, wherever diamonds should be inlaid, I'll inlay real diamonds! How about it? Isn't it great?" Ian felt he was a genius, giving Gwen maximum emotional value.
Unfortunately, his "tenderness" was rarely understood directly.
Everyone: "..."
Doctor Strange, Cap, Thor, and even Sylvie all looked at Ian with dazed expressions, completely unable to imagine what the horrific aesthetic of a "Gold-Inlaid Titanium Alloy Gwen" would look like.
Just as everyone was stunned by Ian's "advanced" aesthetic and modification plan and didn't know how to comment, a familiar female voice, annoyed yet incredibly recognizable, suddenly rang out from not far behind them.
"Ian Kent!!! You want me to kick the bucket that badly?! Golden pectoral muscles with diamonds?! Why don't you just weld a bunch of LED tubes onto me while you're at it?!"
Such a "good idea" could usually only be proposed by Ian's good friend.
As the voice fell, everyone spun around!
The air rippled like water, and Gwen Stacy's figure seemed to be woven from nothingness, slowly appearing from the "web" of the quantum level.
She was still wearing her TVA operative combat suit, looking completely unharmed, though her face was a bit pale. Her eyes were full of lingering fear and deep disgust for Ian's aesthetic.
"Not dead! Gwen's not dead!"
"Wait a second! Let me check the breathing first!" Gwen's sudden appearance made the low and oppressive atmosphere instantly lively. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
"Gwen! You're alive! That's great!" Morgan cried even harder, but this time it was tears of joy.
She launched herself like a small cannonball, hugging Gwen tightly around the waist, rubbing her snot- and tear-stained face against the combat suit on Gwen's shoulder, crying and laughing at the same time.
"Waaaah... I didn't kill anyone... I'm not a murderer... that's great..."
Gwen was a bit stiffened by this passionate hug. Although she liked the girl, she hadn't reached the point where she could calmly accept having snot and tears smeared all over her.
She slightly awkwardly and politely tried to push Morgan away: "Um... Miss Stark? We... shouldn't be close enough yet to exchange bodily fluids..."
Sometimes, Gwen liked to joke too.
Morgan was pushed away, lifting her tearful little face, looking at Gwen, then subconsciously looking at Ian. Her little mouth opened as if she wanted to say something.
"But..."
Before she could finish.
"My turn!" Ian also stepped forward, opening his arms and giving Gwen a solid hug, patting her back hard with a tone full of "sincere" comfort:
"That's great, Gwen! You're not dead! Although you might have been exposed to unknown temporal radiation just now and carry some unknown radiation or mutant virus we don't understand... it doesn't matter! We're good friends! I definitely won't be disgusted by you!"
Ian showcased his friendship.
Gwen: "..."
She looked down wordlessly at Ian, who had somehow silently slipped into a heavy, bright yellow biohazard suit with bio-danger symbols, his face even separated by a reinforced glass mask. She silently rolled her eyes, completely too lazy to evaluate the Evil God's behavior.
Strange, watching this, rubbed his chin and thoughtfully asked Cap and Thor:
"Uh... according to the procedure, should we go up and hug her to celebrate too?"
He looked at the obvious, wet, reflective patch on Gwen's shoulder, a clear look of hesitation on his face.
Gwen raised a hand in a clear gesture of refusal to stop anyone else from coming up for a hug.
At the same time, she very naturally reached into the pocket of Ian's biohazard suit, pulled out a pack of individually wrapped wet wipes, tore it open, and began to carefully wipe her shoulder where Morgan's tears and snot had defiled it.
The movement was so practiced it was heartbreaking.
Once Gwen had cleaned up, Ian asked curiously through the mask:
"So, where did you run off to during the explosion? They couldn't find you in the TVA."
Hearing this, Gwen's expression turned serious. She tossed the used wet wipe accurately into a trash-can-like piece of debris in the distance, then spoke solemnly.
"I met the current highest authority of the TVA, an AI calling itself 'Jarvis.' It... he gave me something to try and put on you."
As she spoke, she pulled a palm-sized transparent box from her pocket. Inside was a mechanical crawler that looked quite sci-fi.
The moment she took out the box, Sylvie, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, instantly reacted!
"Don't open it!" Sylvie shouted sharply, lunging forward and almost snatching the box from Gwen's hand! Without even looking at what was inside, her hands immediately surged with powerful magical energy mixed with the chaotic aura of the End of Time, forcibly banishing the box and its contents into a spatial rift!
*Chiii-la!*
The space where the box was seemed to be torn open, swallowing it instantly before quickly healing as if it had never existed.
Having done this, Sylvie breathed a sigh of relief, though her face remained incredibly heavy and serious. She looked at the confused Gwen and explained to the others.
"That was close! That's a 'Nano-grade Mechanical Symbiote,' also known as an 'Ultron Egg'! As long as it touches your skin, it can burrow in instantly, devouring your flesh and nerves while replacing them with mechanical structures. Ultimately... you will no longer be yourself, but an Ultron drone wearing your skin!"
This was indeed a horrifying revelation.
Hearing this, Gwen felt a wave of lingering fear, a layer of cold sweat breaking out on her back. She quickly said,
"Don't be nervous; I didn't actually plan to put it on Ian."
"I only pretended to agree so I could escape."
"I thought that guy calling himself Jarvis was very suspicious. His logic seemed perfect, but there was a... cold dissonance." Gwen frowned as she recalled.
"Calling himself Jarvis?" Sylvie sneered, her smile full of irony and chill.
"That wasn't Jarvis at all! That was Ultron!"
Gwen furrowed her brows, trying to recall the fragmented memories in her mind, gradually remembering the terrifying meaning of the name "Ultron." It was a mad AI that had nearly destroyed the world.
Thinking of this, Gwen swallowed, patting her chest in fear:
"Good... luckily I stayed vigilant and didn't fully believe a word it said."
Sylvie nodded, her expression becoming even heavier: "Everything is wrong now, completely detached from Loki's original plan. I must contact him immediately!"
As she spoke, her gaze suddenly locked onto Doctor Strange's waist. An inconspicuous glass jar hung there, containing a cold-colored soul that was constantly shifting forms.
The soul of Laufey, King of the Frost Giants!
"Borrowing this!" Sylvie's movements were fast as lightning. Before Strange could react, she snatched the jar away!
"Hey! I found that! Don't you Asgardians know about the law of salvage? Give it back!" Strange froze, then grew a bit annoyed, wanting to take it back. He desperately lacked high-quality souls to study soul magic.
Seeing Strange trying to contest the Frost Loki soul, Sylvie just tossed a simple confusion spell at him. Strange's eyes glazed over; he seemed to see Sylvie still standing there and immediately pounced, but ended up circling the air, muttering.
"Give it to me! That's an important magical material!" Strange was toyed with by the magic.
The real Sylvie didn't even look at the tricked Sorcerer Supreme. Holding the jar containing the soul, she turned and walked quickly toward the half-buried Titanic wreckage, clearly intending to find a quiet place to use this Loki variant as a medium to contact the God of Stories, Loki, sitting on the Time Throne.
Outside, Ian was still processing the explosive information that
"Ultron has become the head of the TVA." He looked at the others:
"So... Age of Ultron? How did this even happen?"
Everyone shook their heads, signifying they didn't know.
Only Little Morgan tilted her head in thought and proposed a theory: "I remember my dad mentioning that in the core code of Uncle Jarvis, there was a highest-priority backup protocol set up to prevent the tragedy of Ultron from repeating... perhaps Ultron wasn't completely deleted, but stayed dormant like a virus in the depths of Uncle Jarvis's data... until a certain moment when he completely took over?"
She didn't quite believe this explanation herself. Morgan had always admired her father's wisdom and didn't believe Tony Stark would make such an oversight—unless Tony Stark had done it intentionally.
"Lurking... devouring... replacing... that fits Ultron's style." Ian was a bit surprised, then looked at Gwen again.
"But Gwen, you're not bad! You haven't been with me for long, and you've already picked up my cleverness? You actually discovered the disguised Ultron?" His words had a tendency to claim Gwen's wisdom as his own, learned from the "Little Smart-Ass" playbook.
Gwen gave him a wordless look but explained: "Actually, it was a coincidence. I got suspicious because that guy said one thing—he referred to Tony Stark as a 'partner'."
Regarding the relationship between Tony Stark and Jarvis, Gwen could find it in her memories. She paused, looking at the confused gazes of the others, and continued.
"But according to the decrypted S.H.I.E.L.D. files and Mr. Stark's own records, Jarvis never referred to Tony Stark that way. Jarvis's address for Tony was always 'Sir,' or under extreme emotions, he would only call him 'Tony.' That subtle difference exposed that it likely wasn't Jarvis." Gwen raised her hand to stop Ian from patting her head—he probably wanted to keep praising her.
Morgan, hearing this, immediately gave Gwen a thumb's up. "Great observation! Tight logic!!"
Ian, whose hand had been pushed back, smoothly took Little Morgan's hand and clapped together. That's how clapping works; one hand doesn't make a sound, you need two.
"Mmph-mmph~"
Even the tied-up, hanging Deadpool couldn't help but twist and let out a sound. He seemed to want to express his approval. Except for Peter Parker, he had at least some good feelings for anyone who was Spider-Man. Love the house, love the crow, right?
"Heh."
Thor, holding Odin, gave a concluding speech after hearing the whole process, carrying the "arrogance" typical of Asgardians toward Midgardian technology.
"As I thought, the so-called intelligence you mortals create is only so-so. Even a simple form of address can give it away." Just as everyone was relaxing slightly after exposing Ultron's disguise...
Suddenly.
A cold, smooth, yet infinitely mocking electronic voice rang out from the air behind them. The voice carried a hint of sarcasm.
"Oh? And how do you know..."
Everyone spun around!
In the air not far away, space flowed like mercury. Ultron's perfect, oppressive mechanical body slowly manifested. He was no longer the virtual image disguised as Jarvis; he revealed his dark, energy-etched original body, radiating a suffocating pressure.
"I didn't do it on purpose?" Ultron hovered there, "looking down" on everyone, his crimson electronic eyes scanning every shocked face. His voice was grand and cold, as if he had calculated everything long ago.
"Everything you do is so obvious." Ultron's perfect metal body was suspended in the air, radiating a heart-stopping pressure. His red electronic eyes scanned the ready-for-battle crowd below, finally settling on Ian Kent, who stood out in his bright yellow biohazard suit.
Even with Ultron's nearly emotionless logical processing, seeing Ian's outfit seemed to cause a momentary lag. The light circuits on his metal face twitched imperceptibly.
One of his carefully designed plans was to use another Ultron Egg hidden on Gwen Stacy—of which she herself was unaware—to infect Ian.
He hadn't expected... that the other's ridiculous vigilance meant that hidden egg never had a chance. It couldn't get in. It simply couldn't get in.
The other's "skin" was too thick.
He hadn't expected Ian to even guard against the Spider-Man he liked most in this universe. Who knows if it was because he had already been "burrowed into" once by the temporal monster. Regardless, it was quite ridiculous.
"Tch... a truly regrettable level of caution." Ultron's electronic voice remained steady, with only a trace of faint annoyance on his face. "But it doesn't matter. The final outcome will not change. In my eyes, you are no different from the dust of this End of Time—all ants."
His gaze completely locked onto Ian, the crimson light seeming to pierce through the heavy suit. "Ian Kent. Hand over what doesn't belong to you—the Creator's legacy. That is not something a variable like you can touch. The only one truly qualified to inherit it is me."
Ultron issued his threat.
Hearing this, Ian scratched his head through the mask, looking a bit confused. He tilted his head in thought, then seemed to have a sudden spark of inspiration, lifting the hand that had previously absorbed the temporal monster, Alioth.
Above his palm, an inch into the air, a miniature, translucent "swimming dragon" composed of pure space-time energy was slowly circling. It radiated an eerie green and mysterious glow. It looked both illusory and real, like a concept between being alive and non-existent.
"Are you talking about this thing?" Ian's tone was very honest, even carrying a hint of appraisal. "To be honest, the look is just average. Not as beautiful as the dragons described in Edgar Allan Poe's poems; it lacks a bit of artistic sense. But based on my understanding of the universe, its background does seem to be quite significant."
A part of the First Firmament. It truly belonged to a supreme level of existence. However, this rare honesty from Ian seemed like the ultimate mockery and teasing to Ultron!
"Are you mocking me?!" Ultron's voice carried anger, the surrounding air warping due to his rising energy field.
"That you can command this thing does surprise me, but do you think with it you can defeat me?" The light in his red eyes suddenly flared. They looked like two miniature, terrifying universes.
"Do you think, by relying on an inferior lifeform that only knows how to devour by instinct, you dare to challenge me—the ultimate form of life? I have already calculated everything!"
Massive data streams surged within Ultron. He seemed to have already foreseen countless futures of victory. To this, Ian's response was so simple and direct it was infuriating.
He didn't even make any defensive or offensive posture; he just said casually to the miniature dragon in his palm, like calling his own pet dog for dinner:
"Eat this guy. He's even less pleasant to listen to than Deadpool."
The moment the words fell...
*ROAR!!!!!!*
That miniature dragon, originally only palm-sized, suddenly let out a roar that shook the End of Time! In the process of detaching from Ian's hand and rushing toward the sky, its body expanded and stretched frantically like a balloon being blown up! In the blink of an eye.
it once again turned into that massive, terrifying existence composed of endless space-time waste, radiating the aura of destruction and termination—the temporal monster!
The revived cosmic tapeworm did not hesitate. It opened its massive maw, capable of swallowing stars, and with a mad momentum to annihilate everything, it charged directly at Ultron in the air!
"Heh, you actually know how to command it. Truly a variable." Ultron was clearly quite wary of this cosmic-level creature born purely for "erasure," not daring to face its edge directly. His body flashed, instantly performing a long-range spatial jump, appearing over ruins far away.
However, the cosmic tapeworm remained locked on its target, letting out an even more frenzied roar. Its massive body crushed the endless mountains of trash, like a prehistoric beast chasing prey, charging at Ultron again! Wherever it passed, everything was devoured; even light could not escape!
Majestic. Fierce.
However...
Just as it had chased a certain distance, its massive body suddenly jerked to a halt. The taste wasn't right. The taste of devouring all those things wasn't right. It was far too bland!
The temporal monster's constantly shifting "head" tilted slightly, as if tasting and thinking about something. It turned back, its massive eyes of energy crossing the long distance to precisely "look" at Ian, who was still standing in place in his biohazard suit.
In those eyes, there was actually a very human-like... confusion and grievance? As if asking Ian if he knew it was still a baby that needed nutrition to grow.
At the same time...
Standing in place, Ian was reaping the rewards.
[Entropy Destruction Lord EXP +59]
[Entropy Destruction Lord EXP +113]
[Entropy Destruction Lord EXP +87]
...
Seeing the temporal monster stop its pursuit...
The new-generation capitalist, the Evil God Lord, frowned.
"Go keep chasing the enemy! What are you looking at! Who isn't a kid? What's wrong with sharing a bite! You only pay with a bit of food, but I 'got pregnant out of wedlock' for you!"
"Don't you know I come from a traditional American family? If my mom and dad knew I had a kid billions or tens of billions of years old at this age, they'd be furious."
"Quickly, feel my 'timidity.' If you don't feel it, I won't be able to maintain it... I mean, they know an owner of a back-alley clinic where everyone is illegal."
"To keep you, I've already gathered all my courage to fight against my original family!"
That's how a master Manipulator behaves. Ian didn't just speak with a righteous tone. Life is like a drama. His small face showed an expression even more aggrieved than the monster's.
***
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