At the foot of the Himalayas, Kamar-Taj stood unchanged.
Ancient walls, quiet courtyards, and the faint hum of something deeper than physics itself—it felt like a place untouched by time. Reed Richards followed the navigation Tony Stark had sent him, arriving at the entrance without trouble.
He knocked three times.
The door opened almost immediately. A broad-shouldered man with a stern expression looked him over.
"Hi, I'm here because—"
"No need," the man cut in. "Stark already briefed us. Come on."
Reed paused for half a second, then stepped inside.
The courtyard was alive with motion. Dozens of robed practitioners stood in formation, hands moving in precise arcs through empty air. With each gesture, intricate golden patterns formed—rings of light layered with symbols Reed couldn't immediately decipher.
His eyes lit up.
If curiosity were fuel, Reed could have powered a city.
But he forced himself to stay focused. As fascinating as magic was, it wasn't why he was here.
He followed his guide deeper inside.
"The Ancient One is waiting," the man said. "Go ahead."
Reed nodded and stepped into the inner chamber.
There, a bald woman in orange robes stood calmly, speaking with a man who looked exhausted down to his bones.
"Stephen," she said gently, "we'll continue this later. Take some time and decide if you're ready to learn."
Stephen Strange gave a tired nod.
Once, he had been one of the finest surgeons in New York. Now, in a world where powers could heal injuries instantly—or even rewind time—his decades of expertise had been pushed aside.
He turned and left without a word.
Reed watched him go for a moment, then took the seat across from the woman.
"You must be the Ancient One," he said. "Tony Stark sent me. I'm here to ask about the Reality Stone."
"The Reality Stone…" she repeated softly, a knowing smile forming.
At her chest, the Eye of Agamotto glowed faintly green.
In the past, she had relied on it often—peering into countless futures, searching for the right path. But lately, things had been… quieter. Stable.
This world, anchored by Noah Vale, had become unusually secure.
Still, she opened the path again.
Time unfolded.
Countless futures bloomed and collapsed in her vision.
Reed waited.
After a few seconds, she spoke.
"The Aether has already bonded with a young host," she said. "He's extremely dangerous. Attempting to subdue him could destabilize the planet."
Reed frowned slightly. "So what's the best option?"
"For safety," she replied, "you should involve Noah Vale. Convincing him to act… that part will be up to you."
Reed absorbed that, then nodded. "Understood."
He hesitated, about to bring up his second objective—
But the Ancient One spoke first.
"You want time," she said. "Time to finish your work."
Reed blinked. "…Yes."
"Then I'll give it to you."
The Eye of Agamotto pulsed.
Before Reed could react, the room dissolved into light.
He was standing in his lab.
Everything was exactly where he'd left it.
"One month," he murmured, a spark of excitement igniting in his eyes.
That was more than enough.
"Alright," he said, turning to his team. "Bring me everything. I want to see where we left off."
Time flowed.
Calculations. Experiments. Failures. Breakthroughs.
An entire month of relentless work compressed into a single stretch of focus.
And then—
It snapped back.
Reed found himself once again seated in Kamar-Taj.
The Ancient One sat across from him, unchanged.
Only a second had passed.
But Reed's mind carried a month's worth of progress.
He stood immediately, bowing his head.
"Thank you," he said sincerely.
She inclined her head in return.
Outside, Karl Mordo had barely waited a minute before Reed emerged.
"All set?" Mordo asked.
"Everything went perfectly," Reed replied with a smile.
Mordo nodded and escorted him out.
Elsewhere—
The Antarctic battlefield raged on.
Explosions tore through the landscape. Fighters clashed across towering structures, their battles escalating with every passing minute.
High above, Noah Vale moved without interruption.
Then something brushed against his awareness.
His expression shifted.
Incoming.
Not subtle. Not hidden well enough.
Large objects—multiple—cutting through space and heading straight for Earth.
"What now?"
A small, glowing ring of orange light opened in front of his eye, linking his vision across vast distance.
Through it, he saw them clearly.
Dark Elf warships.
Stealth meant nothing against his perception.
Noah stared for a moment.
Then he sighed.
"Really?"
Recognition flickered—he knew exactly what they were.
And just as quickly, he lost interest.
Their power didn't impress him.
If anything, it annoyed him.
"Did I make this place look too easy?" he muttered. "Now everyone thinks they can just show up."
He considered it for a second.
Then decided not to overthink it.
Noah leaned forward slightly.
And spat.
What left his mouth wasn't just spit.
It became a projectile.
Accelerated to absurd velocity, stabilized by his control, it shot through the portal like a bullet fired by a god.
No—
Faster.
Thousands of times faster than sound.
It tore through space, aimed directly at the incoming fleet.