Chapter 2 – A World of Mysteries
The Battlefield – Aftermath of War
Smoke curled through the air, mixing with the scent of burnt debris and blood. The once-mighty battlefield was reduced to ruins—heroes and villains alike lay scattered, some unconscious, others barely standing.
At the center of it all, where Midoriya Izuku had been just seconds ago—there was nothing.
No body. No trace.
Just empty space.
For a moment, nobody moved. Nobody spoke. The battlefield, once deafening with the sounds of combat, was now eerily silent.
Then, the panic set in.
____________________________________________
Todoroki took a slow step forward, his heterochromatic eyes flickering between the scorched ground and the unsettled dust. His breath came slow and controlled, but there was something tight in his chest.
“He was right here,” he murmured, voice firm despite the unease settling in his gut. His mind replayed the moment over and over, but no matter how many times he ran through it, he couldn’t find a logical explanation. Midoriya had been there. Standing, breathing, steady on his feet.
And then he wasn’t.
“I—I did too,” Uraraka whispered. Her voice was fragile, like she was afraid speaking too loud would break whatever thin layer of reality still made sense. Her hands twitched, as if she wanted to reach out, to touch the air where he had been. Some desperate part of her still believed she would feel something—warmth, static, anything.
But there was nothing.
“He… he just—” Her breath hitched.
Then Bakugo moved.
He stomped forward, his movements sharp and aggressive, but there was something off about them. His heart was hammering against his ribs, his throat was dry, and he hated—hated—the way his body felt lighter all of a sudden, like something had been ripped away before he could even react.
His hands clenched into fists.
"Oi! Quit screwing around, nerd!" His voice cracked, but the frustration masked the tremor beneath it. "Where the hell did you go?!"
No answer. No sign of him.
Bakugo’s jaw clenched so tightly it ached. Deku didn’t just disappear. That wasn’t how any of this worked. There were teleportation quirks, sure—but those had triggers. A flash of light. A distortion in space. Something.
There had been nothing.
His breathing sharpened. His mind burned through possibilities, ripping through every explanation he could think of—but all of them were wrong.
A moment ago, Midoriya was here.
Now he wasn’t.
And that didn’t make sense.
Bakugo’s Frustration Boils Over
His eyes snapped to the nearest pro hero—Kamui Woods.
Bakugo lunged forward, grabbing Kamui’s collar in a vice grip. His fingers shook against the fabric, but his grip was ironclad.
"The hell did you see?!" His voice was raw, barely controlled. "What the hell happened?!"
Kamui looked just as shaken. His usually firm posture had a slight slump, as if he was still trying to process what he had just witnessed.
"I… I don’t know." His voice was hoarse. Uncertain. "I was watching—he was just standing there, and then he wasn’t."
Bakugo’s chest twisted.
That answer wasn’t good enough.
That answer was bullshit.
His grip on Kamui’s collar tightened. “That doesn’t make sense! That doesn’t—”
A heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder.
Bakugo spun instantly, ready to shove whoever it was off of him, but the moment his eyes met Aizawa’s, his body stilled.
Aizawa’s face was set in a hard line. His gaze was sharp, his exhaustion barely visible beneath the raw intensity in his stare. His grip on Bakugo’s shoulder wasn’t just to restrain him—it was to ground him.
“…He didn’t run,” Aizawa said simply. His voice was quiet, but firm. Final.
Bakugo’s breath hitched. The weight of those words settled in his chest like stone.
“…What?”
Aizawa’s grip didn’t loosen. His gaze remained locked.
“He didn’t run,” he repeated, as if stating a fact of the universe. His voice carried no hesitation. “Something took him.”
Bakugo’s fingers curled into fists. His entire body tensed.
Something… took him?
A deep, gut-wrenching feeling settled in his stomach. The worst kind of realization.
Because that meant—
Midoriya hadn’t left by choice.
And that was far worse.
All Might had been silent since it happened.
From the moment Midoriya vanished, he hadn't moved—hadn't even breathed properly. His heart pounded in his chest, his body locked in place, but his mind was anything but still.
His eyes darted across the battlefield, searching. There had to be an explanation. Some kind of logical reasoning, some last-second shift in events that could tell him that Midoriya was safe.
But the battlefield only offered silence.
The dust had settled. The chaos of the fight had dimmed. And there—where Midoriya had once stood—there was only an empty space that shouldn’t have been empty at all.
Something was wrong.
All Might’s stomach twisted. He had seen many things in his years as a hero. Explosions, death, carnage, miracles—but never this.
Never something that felt so final.
His hands clenched into trembling fists.
Deku, where are you?
The thought rang through his skull, over and over, but no answer came. And the longer the silence stretched, the colder his blood ran.
Then—he felt it.
Or rather, he didn’t.
For the past decade, the embers of One For All had burned inside him, even after he passed it on. He could feel its lingering presence, like a whisper at the back of his mind. And after giving it to Midoriya, that whisper had grown distant—but never gone.
Until now.
The second Midoriya vanished,One For All vanished with him.
All Might’s fingers curled into fists, his breathing uneven. He closed his eyes, reaching—searching—desperately trying to sense something.
But there was nothing.
It was as if the quirk had been wiped from existence.
His stomach turned.
One For All had never done this before. Even in the worst moments, it had always remained. It had always been passed down.
And now, for the first time in generations, it felt like it had been cut off entirely.
All Might’s throat tightened. He had been a hero for a long time. He had faced horrors beyond imagination.
But this? This was something else.
Because whatever just happened to Midoriya…
It didn’t feel like a quirk at all.
The battle had been broadcast live.
Millions had witnessed Izuku Midoriya stand victorious, his body battered beyond reason but his spirit unshaken.
He had fought, endured, and triumphed against an enemy no one thought could be beaten.
And then—
He was gone.
No warning. No flash of light. No indication of a quirk being activated. Just empty space where a hero had once stood.
The internet erupted within seconds.
"What... what just happened? Did—did anyone else see that?"
"That—That wasn’t a quirk activation. He didn’t move. He didn’t teleport. He just... disappeared."
"Tell me someone has an explanation for this, because this isn't normal."
"Maybe it was All For One’s final move. A failsafe—something triggered at the last second."
"This doesn’t make sense. Nothing about this makes sense."
"Are we seriously talking about him just... being erased?"
Every news station scrambled to cover the event. Analysts pored over footage in agonizing slow motion, breaking it down frame by frame, desperate for answers.
But it was the same every single time.
One moment, Midoriya was there.
The next—
He wasn’t.
No shift in the air. No energy signature. No trace of any quirk activation.
It defied logic. It defied reality.
Just a boy who had defied fate—erased in an instant.
Back on the battlefield, Aizawa exhaled slowly before turning to Nezu.
“Shut down all non-official broadcasts.”
“We can’t,” Nezu responded, his voice calm despite the storm brewing. “It’s too late. The footage has already spread.”
Aizawa’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Then control the information. No false speculation. No panic. Until we understand what happened, we move carefully.”
Nezu was already making calls, issuing commands to Japan’s information networks.
But they both knew it wouldn’t stop the spread.
Aizawa turned to the remaining heroes. His voice was sharp, commanding.
“Until we have proof otherwise, we do not assume Midoriya is dead.”
Bakugo scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. His voice was raw.“Like hell he is.”
Todoroki exhaled, his body tense. “We should start searching immediately.”
Uraraka wiped her eyes, but her hands clenched into fists. “Wherever he is, we’ll find him.”
And above them, in the broken sky, the storm clouds gathered.
The battle was over.
But the war wasn’t.
Because if Midoriya was gone—
Then they would bring him back.
No matter what.
__________________________________________________________________________
The Sanctum Sanctorum was silent.
Doctor Stephen Strange stood in the dim glow of candlelight, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the unconscious boy lying in the center of the chamber.
His Cloak of Levitation hovered nearby, shifting slightly as if observing as well.
There was something wrong with this boy.
Strange had encountered countless anomalies—beings from other dimensions, magical disturbances, even fractured timelines.
But this?
This was something else entirely.
His fingers moved in the air, conjuring a floating sigil that shimmered over the boy’s body. The readings made no sense.
His energy was fluctuating wildly, almost as if it were… layered.
It wasn’t just magic. It wasn’t just raw power.
It was something deeper—like a living storm barely contained within flesh and bone.
His Cloak of Levitation drifted lower, settling over the unconscious boy’s shoulders in a smooth, natural motion.
A simple gesture. It wasn’t unusual—the Cloak had always been strangely intuitive—but Strange still took note.
With a flick of his hand, Strange adjusted his spell. More symbols rotated around the boy, mapping the unstable aura surrounding him.
It flickered erratically, bending the very air around it.
Then—a pulse.
A crackle of energy erupted from the boy’s body.
Strange immediately reinforced the protective wards, golden runes flaring to life.
For a brief moment, the space itself seemed to warp.
Then the energy collapsed inward, and the boy’s breathing hitched.
Strange narrowed his eyes.
That’s the second time.
Whatever had brought him here had disrupted something fundamental inside him.
His power was broken.
The Cloak shifted slightly, adjusting as the boy’s breathing steadied.
Then—
The boy stirred.
Strange exhaled, watching as green eyes fluttered open.
“I know,” he muttered. “He’s waking up.”
_____________________________________________________________
Pain.
Not the familiar ache of battle. Not the sharp sting of fresh wounds.
Not even the bone-deep exhaustion of pushing One For All beyond its limits.
This pain was different.
It wasn’t just in his muscles, in his skin—
It was everywhere.
Running deep in his nerves, thrumming through his very cells like an old injury that had never healed.
Deku’s breathing was shallow. Each inhale sent a dull ache through his ribs. Each exhale came with a faint tremor.
His limbs felt impossibly heavy, his fingers sluggish and unresponsive. He tried shifting his body, but—
Something was wrong.
His eyes snapped open.
Darkness didn’t greet him. Instead, a dim golden glow flickered above, casting long shadows on the high ceiling.
Strange symbols floated lazily in the air, twisting and pulsing as though they were alive.
The walls were lined with intricate carvings, shifting under the candlelight.
The entire space felt wrong—like reality itself was thinner here.
Gone was the battlefield.
The burning city, the cries of victory, the lingering scent of smoke and blood.
Gone were his friends.
Deku inhaled sharply. His head spun. His body screamed at him, every nerve still reeling from whatever had happened.
But none of that mattered.
He needed to move.
He tensed his muscles, pushing against the stone beneath him—
Nothing.
His breath hitched.
His arms wouldn’t lift.
His legs wouldn’t budge.
Panic crawled up his throat as he realized—
Glowing bands of energy wrapped around his wrists and ankles.
He twisted against them, his breath coming faster. They didn’t feel like metal, didn’t have any physical weight.
But the more he pushed, the more they resisted, holding him in place with an invisible force.
Captured.
His heart pounded in his ears.
No. No, this isn’t—
He yanked harder.
The bindings didn’t move. Not even an inch.
Deku clenched his jaw, frustration rising fast.
He had to get out of here. Had to find out where he was, what had happened to his friends.
The last thing he remembered was standing on the battlefield, barely holding himself together after that final clash.
He had been exhausted, but he was standing.
And then…
His mind blanked.
A sharp breath. His hands curled into fists against the restraints.
Think, Midoriya.
The bindings weren’t normal. If they weren’t physical, then they had to be—
His quirk.
A familiar fire flickered inside his chest, ready to ignite. If he could just push his power—
He reached inward. Called on One For All.
A surge of energy rushed through his body—
And then it collapsed.
Pain lanced through him.
His entire body spasmed, his muscles locking up as a raw, unstable force ripped through his core.
The sensation was violent, like his very cells were tearing apart and stitching themselves back together at the same time.
Deku choked back a cry.
What—?!
It wasn’t exhaustion. It wasn’t quirk overuse. This was different.
His power was twisting, flickering in and out like a faulty lightbulb, refusing to settle.
His muscles trembled violently. He couldn’t stop shaking.
His power wasn’t just unstable—
It was broken.
A voice shattered the silence.
“You’re awake.”
Deku’s head snapped toward the source.
A man stood a few feet away, watching him with an unreadable expression.
His red cloak draped over his shoulders, shifting subtly, almost thoughtfully.
His arms were crossed, his stance at ease, but there was something about him—something precise, calculating.
Deku’s instincts roared in warning.
This man is dangerous.
“Who…” His throat was dry. He swallowed, trying to steady himself. “Who are you?”
The man didn’t answer immediately. He simply studied him, as if deciding how much to say.
Then, finally:
“I should be asking you the same thing.”
Deku barely processed the words. His mind was still reeling, still trying to grasp what had happened.
He doesn’t know who I am?
His heart pounded faster. Where was everyone?
His body tensed. Todoroki. Bakugo. All Might.
Had they been taken somewhere else? Had they—
He pulled against the glowing bands again, more forcefully this time.
His arms trembled. He gritted his teeth, straining harder.
The bindings held firm.
Deku’s jaw tightened. I don’t have time for this.
He took a breath, summoning whatever remained of his strength. His quirks—it didn’t matter where he was, he could still—
Power flared.
And his body collapsed.
A strangled gasp tore from his throat as the energy within him surged violently—only to shatter apart, sending his nerves into overdrive.
His vision blurred. His breath came in ragged bursts.
The man tilted his head slightly. “I was about to bring that up.”
Deku barely heard him. His own pulse was deafening in his ears. His body felt wrong, like it didn’t belong to him anymore.
His fingers twitched weakly against the stone.
What’s happening to me?
__________________________________________________________________________________
Doctor Strange observed the boy in front of him with quiet intrigue.
Though Deku had stopped convulsing, the tension in his body hadn’t faded. His breathing had evened out, but his hands remained clenched into tight fists, his muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap.
This wasn’t mere exhaustion.
This wasn’t simple power strain.
Something inside him was shifting—not breaking, but restructuring itself into something new.
Strange flicked his fingers, dismissing the glowing bands that had restrained Deku.
The golden energy dissipated into shimmering particles, dissolving into the air.
Deku exhaled sharply as he felt the pressure lift.
His wrists ached from where the bindings had pressed against his skin, but he didn’t test his freedom.
He didn’t move at all.
Most people would have reacted—stretching their limbs, scrambling away, or trying to gauge their captor’s next move.
But this boy?
He was watching, analyzing, piecing things together despite being completely out of his depth.
Strange took note of that.
Interesting.
With a flick of his wrist, Strange conjured a floating stone platform beneath him, lowering himself onto it. Then, with another precise movement, he created a golden sigil in the air, ancient runes orbiting its surface like a celestial map.
“You’re not from this world, are you?”
Deku’s entire body went rigid.
His fingers twitched against his pant legs. His jaw tightened.
He wanted to deny it. Wanted to tell this man that he was just lost, that there was a misunderstanding, that he just needed to get back home.
But deep down, he already knew.
His last memories before waking up here… the battlefield… the void.
Something had gone wrong.
“…I don’t know.” His voice was barely a whisper.
Strange inhaled slowly through his nose. “I suspected as much.”
He tapped the floating sigil.
The golden light expanded, stretching outward like liquid, forming intricate rings around Deku’s body. Symbols spiraled around him, shifting in patterns too complex to follow.
Deku’s eyes widened.
His aura was flickering violently.
Shifting in and out of focus—like static on a broken screen.
The golden rings pulsed erratically, unable to lock onto a stable frequency.
“…What is that?”
Strange’s gaze remained fixed on the sigil. “Your very presence is distorting reality,” he said. “I can feel it. The universe itself is trying to adjust to you.”
Deku swallowed thickly.
His instincts had been screaming at him since he woke up. Something was wrong.
His quirks weren’t responding the way they should. His body felt off-balance—like it was being stretched and compressed at the same time.
He clenched his fists. Is that why my quirks feel so unstable?
Strange’s expression was unreadable. “Your abilities,” he mused, “they don’t function like anything I’ve encountered before.”
His fingers traced a pattern in the air. “They’re… layered. Fragmented.”
Deku’s breath hitched.
The vestiges. The previous users.
One For All wasn’t just a single power—it was many.
A fusion of past wills, past quirks, all existing inside one body.
But now, here, in this world, it was changing.
His stomach twisted.
“What’s happening to them?” he asked quietly.
Strange studied the energy for a moment longer before speaking.
“Your power isn’t just unstable,” he said. “It’s adjusting to this reality.”
Deku’s heart pounded.
Adjusting?
That meant it wasn’t just breaking apart—it was trying to fit itself into a world it was never meant for.
How long would that take?
Would it ever fully stabilize?
Strange flicked his wrist, shifting the sigil.
The floating rings around Deku’s body condensed, forming a concentrated point of energy at his chest.
"Let me show you something," Strange said.
Before Deku could react, the sorcerer twisted his hand, and the energy in front of him pulsed.
A sudden force rippled through Deku’s body.
His breath hitched—his quirks surged to life.
Blackwhip lashed out instinctively, writhing in the air like a wounded beast before recoiling and snapping back into his arm.
Fa Jin flared, sending a violent tremor through his muscles before fading out completely.
His vision blurred as Danger Sense spiked, feeding him fragmented warnings of threats that weren’t there.
Then, all at once—everything collapsed.
Deku’s limbs locked up as his own power surged out of control.
His heart pounded violently in his chest.
A sharp, unbearable strain tore through his muscles, his nerves, his bones—
His body felt like it was being pulled in a thousand different directions at once.
Then, just as quickly as it came—the feeling was gone.
The energy surrounding him vanished.
His body sagged, gasping, knees trembling from the shock.
Strange let out a slow breath, lowering his hands.
“That,” he said, “is what’s happening inside you.”
Deku’s entire body was shaking.
He stared at his trembling hands.
His quirks were fighting each other.Colliding.Struggling to settle.
He clenched his fists.
"How do I fix it?"
His voice was hoarse, raw.
Strange studied him carefully.
Then, he lifted a hand again, tracing something in the air.
This time, the energy surrounding Deku wasn’t chaotic.
It was calm.
A soft golden glow spread outward, sinking into his skin.
Deku barely had time to react before a wave of warmth rolled over him.
His entire body locked up.
It wasn’t painful—but it was overwhelming.
His breath hitched.
Every nerve in his body felt like it had been suddenly forced into alignment.
Blackwhip tried to surge forward—then settled.
Fa Jin buzzed through his muscles—then calmed.
Danger Sense flickered—then stilled.
Then—
Stillness.
Deku gasped, his lungs drinking in air like he had just surfaced from drowning.
The pressure in his chest—the unbearable instability—was gone.
Not completely.
He could still feel it lurking beneath the surface.
But it was no longer tearing him apart.
Strange exhaled, lowering his hand. "That should hold, for now."
Deku blinked, flexing his fingers.
His hands weren’t trembling anymore.
His quirks still felt… different, like they were waiting for something.
But he wasn’t falling apart anymore.
“…What did you do?”
Strange watched him with a thoughtful expression. “I anchored your energy,” he said. “Stabilized the parts that were fluctuating too wildly. It won’t last forever, but it should keep you from tearing yourself apart.”
Deku’s stomach twisted at the phrasing.
Tearing himself apart.
So it really was that bad.
His fingers twitched at his sides.
“…Thank you.
Strange didn’t respond immediately.
He simply studied him again, unreadable as ever.
Then, after a moment, he finally spoke.
“Now,” he said, “tell me how you got here.”
__________________________________________________________________
Golden light flickered across the walls, casting long shadows in the quiet chamber. The Sanctum was eerily still—too still.
The only movement came from the faint shimmer of magical sigils floating in the air, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Deku sat on the edge of the seat, his shoulders slightly slumped, exhaustion pressing down on him.
His voice was hoarse, his throat dry.
He had just finished talking.
He had told Strange everything—
From the moment quirks first appeared in his world to the rise of All Might, to the age of heroes and villains.
He told him about the League of Villains, about Shigaraki, about the war that had torn everything apart.
He had walked Strange through it all—the battles, the sacrifices, the weight of One For All.
Though, he had kept that last part vague.
He told him about his friends, the Pro Heroes, the final clash where he had fought with everything he had left.
And then, he told him about the end.
The moment he had defeated Shigaraki.
The moment he had won.
The moment everything should have been over.
And yet—
Here he was.
For a long moment, Strange didn’t say anything.
The sorcerer’s fingers were interlocked, his expression unreadable.
His piercing gaze studied Deku carefully—like he was trying to piece together a puzzle too big to fit in one sitting.
Then, finally, he spoke.
“That’s… quite the story.”
Deku let out a slow breath, his hands resting against his knees.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “It was.”
Strange leaned back slightly, tilting his head as if reevaluating everything.
“And yet, despite all of that… you still don’t know how you got here.”
Deku shook his head. “No. I just—appeared.”
Strange hummed, his gaze sharp.
“Unlikely.”
Deku frowned. “What do you mean?”
Strange exhaled.
“A transition between realities—between dimensions—doesn’t happen by accident. Someone or something caused it.”
His fingers tapped lightly against the armrest of his chair.
“You said you felt something was wrong with your body when you arrived?”
Deku nodded slowly.
“Yeah… it felt like my quirk wasn’t working the way it should.”
Strange gave a small nod. “That’s because your power is adjusting.”
Deku blinked. “Adjusting?”
Strange leaned forward slightly. “Your abilities weren’t designed for this reality. Whatever force brought you here didn’t just transport you—it disrupted you.
And now, your power is trying to synchronize with this world’s natural laws.”
Deku swallowed.
That made too much sense.
His quirks had felt unstable since he woke up.
The moment he landed in this world, One For All had stopped behaving the way it should.
His fingers twitched, gripping the fabric of his suit as his mind drifted.
Were they looking for him?
Did they know he was gone?
The image of his friends flashed through his mind—Uraraka, Iida, Todoroki, Bakugo, all of them.
They had fought so hard, bled so much.
And now… he wasn’t there.
A pit formed in his stomach.
If there was any chance that Shigaraki’s defeat hadn’t ended everything, if any new threat rose while he was gone—
His chest tightened.
No.
He couldn’t think like that.
They were strong.
They didn’t need saving anymore.
But still… they were his family.
He had to get back.
He had to find a way.
Deku took a slow breath, pushing the thoughts aside for now.
One step at a time.
He exhaled and looked up at Strange.
"Is there a way back?"
Strange studied him carefully, his expression unreadable.
For a moment, it almost felt like he saw through him.
The sorcerer sighed, rubbing his temple.
“Dimensional travel isn’t simple. If I had to send you back, I’d need to know exactly where you came from, the properties of your universe, and the energy signature of the force that brought you here.”
He leaned back slightly.
“Right now? I don’t have enough information.”
Deku’s jaw clenched.
Not enough information.
Strange noticed his expression and added, “That doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”
Deku let out a breath.
It wasn’t a no.
That was something.
But he still didn’t know how long it would take.
How much time had already passed back home?
His friends—what were they doing now?
Were they searching for him?
Did they think he was dead?
Deku pushed the thought away before it could settle in too deeply.
Strange shifted the conversation.
"And this power of yours… what exactly makes it special?"
Deku tensed slightly.
He had been careful with how he explained his abilities—careful not to mention that One For All could be passed down.
He didn’t know how dangerous this world was. If people found out, it could put him at risk.
So, he did what he always did.
He told the truth—just not all of it.
Deku took a slow breath.
“It’s a special quirk. One of a kind.”
That wasn’t a lie.
He just didn’t mention it was meant to be inherited.
Strange watched him closely, his expression unreadable.
For a moment, it almost felt like he saw through him.
But if he did, he didn’t say anything.
Instead, he simply leaned back in his chair, still studying him.
Deku wasn’t about to let Strange be the only one asking questions.
He needed information.
“Alright,” Deku said, straightening. “Now you tell me about this world.”
Strange raised a brow. “Excuse me?”
Deku clenched his fists, staring him down.
“You know what I am. You know I’m not from here. But I don’t know anything about this place.”
His green eyes burned with determination.
“So, tell me. Where am I? What kind of world is this?”
Strange chuckled under his breath, shaking his head.
“You’re surprisingly bold for someone in your position.”
Deku didn’t waver. “I need to know what I’m dealing with.”
Strange exhaled, crossing his arms.
“Very well. You’re in New York City, Earth-199999. Though most just call it Earth.”
He tapped his fingers against the armrest of his chair.
“Unlike your world, not everyone here has powers.”
Deku frowned. “But some do?”
Strange nodded. “Yes. We have enhanced individuals—some born with power, others who gained it through… various means.”
His expression darkened slightly.
“Not all of them use it responsibly.”
___________________________________________________________________________
Deku absorbed that information carefully.
So this world did have heroes—and villains.
“And you?” Deku pressed. “What exactly are you?”
Strange smirked.
“A sorcerer.”
Deku stared.
He had seen powerful quirks, but the things Strange had done—the glowing symbols, the floating artifacts, the reality-bending energy—felt different.
“Magic?” Deku asked, skeptical.
Strange simply raised a hand, and golden light spiraled around his fingers, forming intricate, spinning symbols in the air.
Deku stiffened.
It didn’t feel like a quirk at all.
Strange let the magic fade, his smirk never faltering.
“Magic.”
For a moment, the only sound was the distant hum of energy pulsing through the room.
Then, Strange stood, his crimson cloak shifting with him.
“I need to decide what to do with you.”
Deku’s muscles tensed.
“What do you mean?”
Strange turned toward him, his expression unreadable.
“You fell into my world unannounced. Your presence is causing ripples. And you can’t control your own power.”
He clasped his hands behind his back.
“That makes you a risk.”
Deku felt his stomach drop.
“So… what? You’re keeping me prisoner?”
Strange tilted his head slightly.
“Think of it more as… observation.”
Deku exhaled sharply.
He hated this.
He needed to get back. He needed to know if his friends were safe. If his world was still standing.
His fingers twitched.
He wanted to run. He wanted to fight.
But he knew—he wouldn’t get far.
Strange sighed. “Don’t take it personally. It’s my responsibility to protect this dimension.”
He turned, gazing out at the New York skyline.
“You’re an anomaly. Until I understand what you are, I can’t let you roam freely.”
Deku clenched his jaw.
He understood.
He hated it—but he understood.
His chest ached with frustration, but for now… there was nothing he could do.
His hands curled into fists.
“Fine,” he muttered. “Then what now?”
Strange smirked slightly, stepping toward him.
“Now?” He studied Deku carefully, eyes sharp.
“Now, we figure out what you are.”
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A Shadowed Room
The monitors flickered, casting erratic shadows across the darkened room.
The air was heavy with the low hum of machinery, the steady pulse of unseen power.
Lines of data cascaded down the screens, energy readings fluctuating between the impossible and the unknown.
A technician hunched over the console, eyes darting between numbers that made no sense.
He adjusted his glasses, his breath hitching.
“This can’t be right…” he muttered, fingers flying over the keyboard.
The system ran its analysis again, cross-referencing the anomaly against decades of recorded energy signatures—
Cosmic radiation.
Gamma emissions.
Mutant gene expressions.
Even arcane disturbances.
The screen flickered.
A match.
Not perfect.
But close.
The technician swallowed.
His pulse quickened.
He turned his head, voice measured but uneasy.
“Sir.”
The shadowed figure behind him remained still, arms clasped firmly behind their back.
Waiting.
Watching.
Silent.
The technician hesitated.
His lips parted slightly, but the words took a second longer to leave his mouth.
“You need to see this.”
Boots clicked against the floor as the officer stepped forward, coming to stand behind the technician.
The dim glow of the monitors reflected off the metal insignia on their uniform.
They leaned forward slightly, studying the data.
The readings told a story.
A power surge—sharp and sudden—before collapsing into momentary instability.
Then, it stabilized.
Contained.
Not wild.
Not uncontrollable.
Not yet.
The officer breathed in slowly, taking their time.
Then, in a voice cold and deliberate:
“Trace it.”
The technician hesitated, his fingers hovering above the keyboard.
“Sir, if this reading is accurate, then—”
The officer did not move.
Did not blink.
Did not entertain hesitation.
“I want to know where it came from.”
A pause. Then—
“And more importantly… if it’s alone.”
A subtle shift in the air.
The technician nodded once.
No further words were exchanged.
His fingers resumed their work.
The system responded instantly.
New lines of data streamed across the screens.
A location formed, sharpened, stabilized.
New York.
The officer lingered, watching the pulsing signal on the monitor.
Thinking.
Calculating.
Then, with a slow, measured step, they turned away.
The technician allowed himself a small exhale.
His shoulders loosened, just slightly.
He turned his attention back to the console, locking onto the faint but undeniable power signature.
As the officer walked away, their posture remained rigid, their hands still folded neatly behind their back.
The dim glow of the monitors cast their silhouette long against the wall.
And there, on the fabric of their uniform—
Stitched in blood-red thread—
A skull.
Beneath it, coiled like a serpent poised to strike—
The Hydra.
To Be Continued...