Mahivacha's request landed like a spark in dry grass.
An autograph.
From Noah Vale.
Around him, the other winners stiffened, their expressions twisting in disbelief. That wasn't just bold—it bordered on sacrilege.
Noah wasn't just a ruler anymore. He was history in motion. Everything connected to him had already been archived, preserved, cataloged. Even the most trivial remnants of his past were treated like priceless artifacts.
And this guy—
He just asked for a signature like it was a celebrity meet-and-greet.
For a heartbeat, the room held its breath.
Then Noah shrugged.
"Sure."
Just like that.
A marker appeared in his hand.
Mahivacha turned around immediately, back straight, barely able to contain himself. His muscles trembled—not from fear, but anticipation.
Noah signed his name across his back in a smooth, effortless stroke.
Done.
Simple.
But to Mahivacha, it might as well have been carved into legend.
His entire body buzzed. If he could, he'd have frozen that moment in time and lived inside it.
Don't damage it, he told himself instantly. Not even a scratch.
A thought took root—half insane, half sincere.
Preserve it.
Permanently.
His skin. The signature. Everything.
He didn't even notice how far that idea spiraled. Only one concern lingered:
Would someone try to take it from him?
People in power loved "preserving important artifacts."
And this?
This would be at the top of that list.
Noah didn't linger.
He handed out the remaining medals, tossed in a few casual words of encouragement—enough to send the five men into a fresh wave of adrenaline—and turned to leave.
Then he paused.
A message blinked in his vision.
Tony Stark.
"Hang on," Stark said a moment later, stepping forward. "Got something we need to discuss."
Noah tilted his head slightly, then nodded. "Alright."
The room cleared quickly after that. Guards escorted the winners out, leaving only the core group behind.
Noah glanced at Stark. "So? What's urgent enough to stop me on the way out?"
Stark smirked faintly. "What, I can't just invite you to a party?"
Noah laughed. "That would mean you've gone back to your old habits. Congrats, I guess."
Stark shook his head, amused. "Tempting. But no."
There was a time when that would've been true.
Now?
Things had changed.
The tone shifted.
"The Reality Stone," Stark said. "It's surfaced."
Noah didn't look surprised. "Then go pick it up. Add it to the collection."
"That was the plan," Stark replied. "Problem is, someone else got to it first."
That earned a flicker of interest.
"We checked with the Ancient One. Whoever's holding it… they're dangerous. Sending in our usual teams would cost lives. A lot of them."
That was enough.
Noah understood immediately.
If Earth's current forces—enhanced, coordinated, and backed by global resources—still faced heavy casualties, then this wasn't a minor threat.
This was someone operating on an entirely different level.
"Alright," Noah said. "I'll handle it. Where are they?"
Stark hesitated.
"…London. Somewhere around there."
Noah stared at him.
"You're not sure."
"We lost the exact trace," Stark admitted. "That's the best we've got."
Noah exhaled slowly.
"Fine."
He closed his eyes.
The world expanded.
An invisible field spread outward from him, sweeping across the planet in an instant. Every heartbeat, every breath, every flicker of motion fell within his awareness.
Billions of lives.
All of them scanned.
Filtered.
Discarded.
Too weak.
Too slow.
Too ordinary.
His perception narrowed, slicing through the noise with ruthless precision.
And then—
There.
Noah's eyes opened.
A faint smile curved his lips.
"Found you."
The signal stood out like a star in a dark sky.
Dense. Unnatural.
The person's physical structure alone defied logic—far beyond anything human. Their body carried a weight of power that could flatten continents without effort.
And wrapped around it—
The Reality Stone.
Its energy pushed back against Noah's perception, resisting, distorting, refusing to be observed.
That made it even more interesting.
This could get messy, he thought.
And messy meant dangerous.
Not for him.
For everything else.
"Let's not do this on Earth," he murmured.
Then he vanished.
London.
A man stood alone, flexing his fingers as if testing the limits of his own existence.
Andrew.
Power flowed through him endlessly, rising with every passing moment. It wasn't just strength—it was transformation.
Evolution.
Each second made him something more.
Something beyond.
He could feel it.
If he wanted to—
He could tear the planet apart.
The thought didn't frighten him.
It tempted him.
But there was a cost.
Time.
Everything around him had slowed to a crawl. Conversations stretched into eternities. A single sentence felt like waiting through hours.
Isolation crept in, quiet and suffocating.
Three days had passed.
To him, it felt like years.
Still—
The power was worth it.
He looked toward the sky, a faint smile forming.
"If Noah Vale can sit on that throne…" he murmured, voice calm and steady, "why can't I?"