Interlude: New Life
I watched Nat smoothly talk Wanda into trying on yet another dress, all gentle smiles and quiet encouragement, and I couldn't help but feel relieved. It was nice—more than nice, really—to finally have someone who could get my sister to slow down and stop overthinking everything for five minutes.
Being the eldest was something Wanda took very seriously. She reminded me of it often, especially whenever we argued, even though she was only a few minutes older than me. To her, that tiny difference meant responsibility. It meant being careful. It meant planning for tomorrow, and the day after that, and every possible disaster that might come crashing down on us if she ever let her guard slip.
I never really fought her on it. Honestly, I didn't mind. Having someone who could handle the boring, stressful stuff—rent, paperwork, bills, worrying about the future—meant I didn't have to. Still, I always tried to pull her back whenever she went too far, to remind her that life wasn't just about surviving. Sometimes you had to stop and actually enjoy it.
I knew how bad things had been before all of this. After Mom and Dad died, we had both been barely holding things together. We scraped and saved until we could afford that tiny apartment in one of the poorer districts, the walls thin, the plumbing temperamental, the neighborhood just safe enough if you kept your head down. We were always one missed paycheck away from everything falling apart, one bad month away from choices neither of us wanted to think about.
And yet, even then, I had tried to be the fun one.
I figured that's what our parents would have wanted. Not for us to drown in grief or live every day waiting for the next disaster, but to laugh when we could, to find little joys wherever they were hiding. Even when Wanda rolled her eyes and called me immature, I could tell she liked it—liked having permission to relax, to joke, to forget for a little while that the world had taken so much from us.
We had always been inseparable. From shared bedrooms to shared secrets, shared grief, shared hope. No matter how bad things got, it was always the two of us against the world.
That had changed. Not because we had been separated—I would never allow that, not under any circumstances—but because we weren't alone anymore.
We were devils now. Part of something bigger than just the two of us scraping by and watching each other's backs. We had a peerage. A structure. A place. We had a King who didn't just offer power, but promised—genuinely promised—to look out for us. Someone who saw what we'd lost and didn't try to own it, but wanted to protect what was left.
And we had a Queen. Natasha had taken one look at us and somehow slipped into our lives like she'd always belonged there. Not as an authority figure, not as someone looming over us, but as an older sister and a close friend all at once. The kind who knew when to push and when to give space. The kind who could tease you into trying on a dress while also making you feel safe doing it. The fact that we had someone like that now still felt unreal if I thought about it too hard.
Wasn't it crazy?
The world had started getting weird the moment the sky opened up above New York and aliens poured through like it was the most natural thing in the universe. Since then, everything had been sliding sideways—gods, monsters, magic, devils—and now we weren't just watching it happen anymore. We were part of it.
We were special.
Well. Wanda was special. Extra special. I still got a little creeped out when I thought about that red magic she'd used back in the cabin, the way the air had felt wrong around her, like reality itself was holding its breath. But Millicas had promised us a proper magical education, real structure and control, and I could tell Wanda was already looking forward to it. Her excitement was quiet but intense, like she'd just been handed the key to a door she'd always felt but never seen.
I was excited too. Just… differently.
Wanda had always been the bookish one, the thinker, the one who wanted to understand how things worked. I was the one who handled problems head-on. The one who broke the noses of boys who didn't understand the word no. The one who acted first and figured out the consequences later. And besides—I had my own thing now.
I was fast.
Not just fast in a normal way. Fast in a this-can't-be-real way. Fast enough that the world couldn't keep up with me anymore. When I ran, it felt like everything else slowed down, like I was slipping between moments rather than moving through space. The wind tore through my hair. The ground blurred beneath my feet. Buildings stretched into streaks of color. My heart pounded—not with fear, but with pure exhilaration. Running felt like freedom. Like I could go anywhere I wanted, whenever I wanted, and nothing and no one could stop me.
It was just… euphoric.
"Do you want anything else?" Natasha asked, startling me out of my thoughts.
I flinched slightly before I even realized why—and then had to suppress a laugh. That was another thing I'd noticed about her. Natasha was really sneaky when she wanted to be. Even now, with the sharper hearing and heightened awareness that came with being a devil, she could still just appear beside me without warning.
"I think I already got everything I wanted," I assured her, glancing down at the bags piled around my feet.
And it wasn't an exaggeration.
I had gone a little wild. New clothes—so many that I wasn't even sure where I'd put them all yet. Shoes that actually fit perfectly instead of being bought a size too cheap. Beauty products I'd only ever seen in advertisements, things I used to walk past and pretend I didn't want. And sports gear. So much sports gear. Anything that looked like it could help me push my body further, move faster, hit harder, I'd grabbed.
I must have spent several thousand dollars on myself alone.
The thought still made my head spin.
Just a week ago, that kind of money would have been unthinkable. We'd counted every expense, worried over every bill, measured groceries down to the last coin. Now Natasha had barely blinked, simply giving the shops our address and instructing them to deliver everything directly. No hesitation. No concern. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And maybe, for her, it was.
It was crazy to think this was our life now.
A penthouse apartment straight out of a movie, glass walls and sweeping views of Manhattan. Space everywhere, light everywhere. As much spending money as we wanted, with no looming fear of running out. Natasha had even handed each of us a phone that was worth more than our old apartment. I still wasn't entirely sure what half of its features did.
I couldn't wait to use the private gym. It was bigger than some public ones I'd seen, packed wall to wall with machines and equipment. Half of it looked like something out of a sci-fi movie, all polished metal and sleek displays. I didn't know what half of the machines actually did—but that just made it better.
"If you want anything else, feel free to ask. Or go buy it yourself, if you prefer." Nat smiled.
"Y-yeah," I said, nodding a little too quickly, doing my best not to show just how much that smile had thrown me off balance.
It was unfair how pretty she was.
Not in the polished, distant way of magazine models or actresses, but in a way that felt real—effortless. Her orange-red hair caught the light as she moved, warm and vibrant, framing her face perfectly. Her green eyes were sharp but kind, always watching, always thinking. And… yeah. Her figure didn't exactly help my composure either.
I forced my gaze away before I stared too long.
I had always been interested in girls. That wasn't new. I was pretty sure Wanda was too, even if we'd never actually talked about it. Romance had never really been an option for either of us—life had been too hard, too busy, too focused on surviving. But we were adults. We had eyes. We noticed things.
Still, part of me twisted uncomfortably with guilt.
Natasha was clearly in a relationship with Millicas. Not just with him, either—she loved him. You could see it in the way she leaned into him, the way her voice softened when she said his name. The last thing I wanted was to ruin everything. Not our new life. Not our place here. Not the strange, fragile thing we were building together just because I couldn't keep my thoughts in line.
Even if…
Even if I couldn't ignore the looks I'd caught. From Nat. From Millicas. Little glances that lingered a fraction too long, expressions that were curious rather than judgmental. Like they were considering possibilities instead of shutting them down.
The thought made my stomach flutter in a way I wasn't entirely prepared for.
And weirdly enough, thinking about Millicas like that didn't feel wrong.
That was the part that really threw me.
Men had never done anything for me before. At best they were background noise. At worst they were assholes who thought Wanda and I would fold just because we were girls, because we were poor, because they thought they could take what they wanted. I'd broken more than one nose over that assumption.
But Millicas wasn't like that.
He was calm. Confident without being pushy. Powerful, yes—but careful with it. Protective without being suffocating. And when he looked at us, it wasn't like we were something to own. It was like we mattered.
I swallowed, heat creeping up my neck.
…Shit.
Was I bisexual?
I wondered what other messed-up revelations this new life would bring.
"How do I look?" Wanda asked, finally stepping out of the changing room.
For a second, I just stared.
She wore a dark red dress that hugged her frame in all the right ways—fitted enough to hint at her curves without showing anything outright, elegant instead of flashy. The color worked perfectly with her smooth brown hair, freshly styled from the salon we'd visited earlier. The kind of place with white marble floors, soft music, and waiting lists that stretched for months. The kind that charged more for a haircut than I used to earn in an entire month back at the fish packing plant.
She looked like she belonged somewhere far above the life we'd come from.
"You look amazing, sis!" I said immediately.
Wanda flushed, her shoulders drawing in just a little, like she wasn't used to being looked at that way. I caught Nat's amused gaze from the side, sharp and knowing.
"You think so?" Wanda asked hesitantly, tugging at the fabric near her waist. "I think it's a little too much."
"It's perfect," Natasha said smoothly. "You're beautiful. You just have to let yourself be seen."
Wanda ducked her head, clearly flustered by the praise.
She was beautiful. I'd always thought so, even back when we were kids running around in hand-me-down clothes and scuffed shoes. Even when life had worn us down and we barely had the energy to notice things like that. She used to insist I was the prettier one, but I never believed her. Not really.
There had been a time, years ago, when that difference had bothered me a little. When I'd compared myself to her and come up short. But we were too close for jealousy to survive long between us. Whatever we had, it always mattered more than that.
Still… seeing her like this stirred something uncomfortable in my chest.
We had always been close. Closer than most sisters. Before mom and dad died, we were inseparable. And after… when it was just us against the world, that bond had only tightened. There was never a Petra without a Wanda, or a Wanda without a Petra. We leaned on each other for everything—comfort, strength, reassurance.
Lately, though, that closeness felt… different.
Not in a way I could easily name. Just a shift. A tension I didn't quite understand. Something that made me more aware of her presence, of the space between us, of how much I needed her nearby. It made my thoughts spiral in directions I didn't like examining too closely.
It felt wrong to even think about it. Confusing. Embarrassing. And yet… impossible to ignore.
I pushed the thoughts down, forcing a grin onto my face as Wanda turned back toward the mirror.
I hoped she hadn't noticed the way I'd gone quiet.
Because whatever that feeling was, it wasn't something I was ready to face—least of all with her.
"So, you'll take it?" Nat asked.
Wanda hesitated, her eyes locked on her reflection. For a moment she didn't look at any of us, just at herself, as if she was trying to reconcile the girl in the mirror with the one she thought she was supposed to be. Then she straightened slightly and nodded.
"I will," she said, quiet but firm.
That was that.
We finished picking out clothes not long after. Racks were brought to us instead of the other way around, and at some point the cashier disappeared entirely, replaced by the store manager himself. My stomach did a small, unpleasant flip when I saw the total at the register. The number barely seemed real, like a typo that no one had bothered correcting.
Nat didn't even blink. She swiped her card with the same casual motion someone might use to buy a coffee.
The manager stared at her like she was a living legend. And then I noticed his gaze flicker—just for a second—toward Wanda and me.
That part I liked.
Wanda noticed it too. I could tell by the way her shoulders tensed and how she suddenly found something very interesting on the floor. She hated being looked at, especially like that, like she didn't quite belong in her own skin.
I, on the other hand, felt something warm and smug coil in my chest.
Natasha Romanoff was one of the people who had fought off the invasion. Everyone knew her face. What had started as shaky phone footage and panicked livestreams had turned into interviews, slow-motion replays, and endless speculation once Millicas entered the public eye. Together, they were impossible to ignore.
I remembered scrolling through forums late at night, back when we were still counting every bill, reading strangers argue with absolute certainty that Nat and Millicas were together. I'd laughed at the confidence of it back then.
Turns out they were right.
And now Wanda and I were standing next to her, close enough that the attention bled over. Close enough that people were already starting to wonder.
I could practically see the headlines forming. The screenshots. The theories. I knew Wanda would hate every second of it, would probably want to disappear the moment she realized people were talking about us.
That just made it better.
I glanced sideways at her, already filing it away for later, for teasing her once we were alone.
The looks of awe only intensified when Nat casually lifted a hand and made a small, dismissive gesture. The pile of shopping bags—what had to be a small mountain of fabric, hangers, and luxury branding—simply vanished, swallowed by nothingness like it had never existed at all.
A collective gasp rippled through the store.
Wanda froze, eyes wide, completely transfixed. Just like with every other display of magic so far, she leaned into it without even realizing she was doing it, curiosity and wonder written plainly across her face. I almost smiled at that. She tried so hard to be practical, to keep her feet on the ground, but magic still grabbed her by the heart every single time.
I thought it was pretty cool too. Hard not to. Even if it did mean the absurd number of purses Nat had somehow convinced us to buy now felt a little pointless.
When we stepped outside the store, the noise hit us immediately. The city hadn't slowed down just because we existed in it. Nat glanced at her phone, scrolling briefly, entirely unfazed by the semicircle of people openly filming us. Dozens of lenses tracked our every movement, phones raised without shame.
"He is back," she said, slipping the phone away. "Are you ready to go home?"
"I'm ready," Wanda replied without hesitation. There was relief in her voice.
"I'm good to go," I added, nodding once.
Nat nodded back, decisive as ever.
"Then let's go."
The spell circle bloomed beneath our feet, intricate lines of light snapping into place in an instant. Someone nearby yelped. Others shouted. Cameras tilted wildly as the air hummed around us.
And then—
Light. Weightlessness. Gone.
We reappeared in the apartment just as suddenly, the world snapping back into focus like nothing strange had happened at all.
"We're back!" I called out, my voice echoing slightly through the open space.
"Welcome home," Millicas replied.
He stepped into the living room, casual and unhurried. I immediately noticed how unfairly good he looked. His comfortable clothes somehow managed to show off every inch of muscle beneath them. His shirt clung faintly to his frame, and his red hair was damp, darker from the shower. A few loose strands clung to his forehead.
His eyes met mine.
I felt heat rush to my face before I could stop it.
I looked away, heart pounding a little too fast for comfort.
…Yeah. There was no denying it anymore.
I was definitely bisexual.
"How was Asgard?" Natasha asked, her lips twitching like she already knew the answer and was enjoying it.
Millicas let out a long breath and rubbed at the back of his neck.
"Apparently, I took too long to visit," he said. "It hasn't even been a full year yet. You would think someone who's lived for thousands of years would have a little more patience."
He shook his head, clearly done with that topic.
"Regardless," he said, turning his attention back to us, "I got what I wanted."
Then his eyes landed on me. Directly.
"Petra, I have a gift for you."
My heart skipped.
"A gift?" I asked, probably sounding way more excited than I should have.
They appeared in his hands. Two daggers, straight-edged and perfectly matched. They looked… serious. Weapons meant to be used. Even without touching them, I could tell they were special. The metal had a strange sheen to it, darker than steel but catching the light in a way that made the engraved runes along the flat of the blades glow faintly.
"As the only one of us who will fight primarily at close range," Millicas said, holding them out to me, "I figured you needed something appropriate."
I took them, and immediately felt it. The balance. The way they seemed to settle into my hands like they belonged there. They were heavier than they looked, but in a good way. Reassuring.
"These were made by the dwarven smith Eitri," he continued. "Forged from both Uru and Vibranium. They're enchanted to be nearly indestructible, and the more demonic power you channel through them, the sharper they become."
I barely heard the last part. I lifted one and gave it an experimental swing.
The blade sliced through the air, leaving behind a faint silver trail that faded a second later. My breath caught.
Okay. Yeah. That was really cool.
A stupid grin spread across my face before I could stop it.
Before my nerves could talk me out of it, I stepped forward and hugged him. It was quick and a little awkward, but still—close enough that I noticed how warm he was, how solid. My face heated instantly as the realization hit after I'd already done it.
"Thanks, boss," I muttered, pulling back and pretending my heart wasn't trying to punch its way out of my chest.
He laughed, easy and warm, and rested a hand on my head, ruffling my hair just a little.
"You're welcome," he said. "Natasha can teach you the basics, but mastering them will be up to you."
I nodded, gripping the daggers tighter, feeling their weight, their promise.
"I won't let you down," I said.
Something in his expression softened.
"I know you won't."
AN: Sorry for the delay and the shorter chapter. I've been really sick for the past couple of days.
Chapter 14 – Brave New World
Reincarnating Wanda and Petra didn't just give me two new peerage members; it gave me breathing room. I had been strapped for credits since my arrival, lacking the fast, easy, and endlessly reusable capture methods of other Contractors.
Natasha, for all that she had repeatedly proven herself indispensable, hadn't helped much in that regard. By the Company's standards, she had only been a T4 capture. The MCU was a superhero universe—even a relatively restrained one by multiversal standards—so her sheer competence, adaptability, and combat effectiveness pushed her past baseline humanity. But at the end of the day, she was still an unpowered human. Exceptional, yes. Valuable, absolutely. Lucrative? Not even close.
The credits I had received from her capture weren't enough to buy anything of substance.
Wanda and Petra were a completely different matter.
Wanda, whose canon self's power had done nothing but grow over time, with no real indication it would ever plateau, was rated as a T8. Petra, whose male counterpart never really had the chance to reach his full potential, came in as a T7. Not because she lacked it, but because canon simply never gave Pietro the time.
Together, they were worth almost as much as my entire starting budget.
And with so many different things I wanted to get, both for future proofing and because they could be genuinely useful, I had been looking forward to that payout.
The first thing that immediately caught my attention was Inexhaustible.
It was expensive. Between it and the prerequisite perks, it would eat up most of my available credits in one go. But the upside was hard to ignore. Permanently full reserves meant I wouldn't have to rely on the Power Stone anymore to maintain my edge. It was very tempting, especially since I my Infinity Stones wouldn't work in other universes.
I briefly considered the Pocket Apartment line next. I could have gone all the way up to the Grand Manor, but that felt excessive for now. Even the basic apartment, though, would be incredibly useful. A private, extradimensional safehouse I could retreat to in hostile worlds, store assets in, or hide people if things went bad. It wasn't flashy, but it was the kind of purchase that paid dividends over time.
I also went through the various healer waifus I could get, scrolling through profiles and descriptions longer than I probably should have. From a purely tactical standpoint, recruiting a healer early was the smart move. No matter how strong I became, no matter how absurd my durability or regeneration grew, there would always be scenarios where having someone whose entire role was to keep people alive would matter.
Still, I hesitated.
I preferred not to buy Waifus if I could help it. Not because there was anything wrong with them as companions, but because of the cost-benefit reality of it. I didn't have many reliable sources of credits, and spending credits only to permanently lose one felt counterproductive.
And yet… the thought of going into future conflicts without a dedicated healer made my skin itch.
Sooner or later, someone would get hurt badly enough that brute force, clever tech, or raw power wouldn't be enough. Wanda. Petra. Natasha. Even me. I would have felt much safer knowing there was someone who could fix catastrophic damage instead of just mitigating it.
That was the problem.
There were too many options I wanted.
With the credits I had, I could afford one major purchase or a handful of smaller ones. I could lock in something transformative, or I could shore up weaknesses across the board. Either choice meant giving something else up. There was no version of this where I walked away with everything I wanted.
I leaned back, exhaling slowly.
So I did what I had found myself doing constantly over the past few months.
I asked Natasha.
"What do you think?" I asked, opening the interface and letting her scroll through the available options. I'd already explained what was available to her, but Natasha had a better eye for details than I did.
She scrolled through the Catalog with an intensity I hadn't often seen in her.
"Get defenses," she said eventually, still not looking up. "A lot of them could prove to be lifesavers if we need them."
"Are you sure?" I asked.
I understood her reasoning. I agreed with it, even. A lot of the defenses were things you rarely needed. But when you needed them, they tended to be the only thing standing between you and certain death. Still, a part of me felt like a kid staring at a toy store window, knowing I was supposed to be responsible and buy socks instead.
Natasha finally looked up at me.
"You can win fights without a healer," she said calmly. "You can't win them if you're brain dead. Or frozen in time. Or killed by an instant death effect."
She paused, then added, a little more gently, "You don't have to solve every problem today."
I nodded slowly, letting the disappointment fade into something more grounded. She was right. As usual.
Scrolling down to the defenses section, I quickly grabbed Paradox Defense straight at the immunity level. Out of everything I wasn't already covered against, temporal effects were at the top of the list of things I absolutely did not want used on me. Time stop, rewinds, accelerations, paradox loops—any of those landing cleanly on me before I had proper counters could end things very badly, very quickly.
I still had time before I'd have my window to go after the Time Stone, but that was exactly the point. The sooner I was immune to its effects—and to anything similar—the better. I wasn't interested in getting blindsided by some clever bastard who thought freezing me in time was an instant win button.
Once that was locked in, I leaned closer to Natasha and we started going through the rest together.
"Getting Body Defense might be worth the extra cost of Body Tune Up," she said, scrolling back slightly and tapping the entry to bring up the details.
I frowned, reading through it again.
"Devils aren't really vulnerable to human diseases," I said slowly. "There are a few devil-specific ones, sure, and I don't doubt something supernatural or biologically engineered could affect us, but that doesn't feel like a huge risk."
Natasha didn't argue immediately. She just flicked to the fine print and tilted the screen toward me.
"It offers two full heals," she said calmly.
I paused.
She continued before I could dismiss it. "Even with reincarnation healing making the one from Body Tune Up mostly redundant, having two full restores banked could save our lives."
That made me stop properly and think.
Two full heals. Hard resets to perfect health, regardless of the source or extent of our injuries. Very limited but very powerful panic buttons we could trigger when things had already gone wrong. The kind of thing you didn't need, right until you really needed them.
"Yeah," I admitted after a moment. "Good point."
I glanced at the cost again, then snorted softly.
"They're cheap anyway."
A few clicks later and it was done. Body Tune Up and Body Defense, both pushed all the way to immunity.
I waited for something to change. There was nothing. No sensation, no feedback beyond the quiet confirmation that the perks had integrated successfully.
At least, nothing for us.
"What the hell!?" Wanda's voice echoed from the other room, sharp with surprise.
"Oh, that is so unfair," Petra added immediately after. "I had to work for mine."
I barely had time to register that before Wanda stormed into the room.
She was wearing short shorts and a loose shirt that left her midriff exposed, and it didn't take a genius to guess exactly who had talked her into that outfit. Petra's influence was obvious, as was the faint sheen of sweat on Wanda's skin. She must have been exercising.
Unlike Natasha and me, Wanda and Petra hadn't started from a perfected baseline. Natasha and I were already as fit as our bodies could meaningfully become—any further improvement came from supernatural scaling rather than muscle growth. Wanda and Petra, on the other hand, had still been in the middle of that transition. They'd both been on the skinnier side before, Wanda especially, and while reincarnation had helped, their bodies had still been slowly adjusting toward their self-image.
That adjustment had just been fast-forwarded.
Wanda had muscle definition now. Not bulky, not harsh—just enough to make her look healthier, stronger, more grounded in her own body. The softness that suited her was still there, but it was framed differently, supported. And then there were the abs.
Petra blurred into the room a second later, stopping beside her sister with barely a whisper of displaced air. The change in her was subtler, but still obvious. She'd always been in better shape than Wanda, and she'd thrown herself into training the moment she moved in with us. Now it showed. Leaner muscle, tighter lines, a body that looked like it was built for motion.
Wanda looked like someone who went to the gym because she wanted to feel good about herself.
Petra looked like someone who lived and breathed fitness.
"I feel cheated," Petra said, crossing her arms and pouting. "I wanted to earn my gains."
Then, predictably, she reached out and poked Wanda's abs.
"Stop that," Wanda snapped, slapping her hand away. "Also—" she glanced down at herself again, clearly still processing "—was this supposed to happen?"
"Don't worry about it," Natasha said smoothly. "You're fine."
Then she did a slow, unapologetic once-over.
I felt Wanda's presence spike just a little as she flushed, and I knew that heat had nothing to do with exercise.
"You look good in that outfit," Natasha added.
"She does," I agreed without hesitation.
Wanda made a small, strangled noise and retreated a step under our combined attention, arms crossing reflexively over her stomach. She'd been coming out of her shell more lately, little by little, and it was nice—important—that she felt safe enough for this kind of teasing, even if it still embarrassed her.
"What about me?" Petra demanded, leaning forward slightly. "What about my gains?"
I rolled my eyes.
"You can now eat as much as you want without ever gaining weight," I said.
Her eyes lit up instantly.
"I'm going to order so much ice cream," she declared, vanishing out of the room in a blur.
Natasha raised an eyebrow, turning to me.
"You told me devils can't really gain weight unless they want to."
I smiled, leaning in to steal a quick kiss.
"So?"
She shot me a heated look, the kind that made it very hard to remember why I was supposed to be making responsible long-term decisions instead of abandoning the entire shopping list and putting Sticky Fingers to much more immediate use.
Then she snatched the phone out of my hands.
Her distraction worked perfectly.
"We should get Stress Defense," she said, already scrolling, her tone shifting from teasing to all business in a heartbeat. "You told me Wanda's Chaos Magic can have… side effects. On her sanity."
"I'm not sure," I said, leaning back slightly. "Every version of her plays by different rules. But yeah—there are a lot of universes where her powers push her off the deep end."
"That's enough," Natasha said without hesitation. "Let's not risk it."
I didn't argue. I reached for the phone, and she handed it back without complaint.
A few taps later, both levels of Stress Defense were ours.
Still nothing. No rush, no feedback, no dramatic reaction from the girls this time. Just the quiet certainty that the protection was there.
"Alright," I muttered, scrolling further down the list. "I'm getting both Mind Defense and Possession Defense."
Natasha glanced up at that.
"I thought you were working with the Mind Stone to create a spell to shield our minds," she said.
"I was," I admitted. "Still am, technically. I just… don't know where to start."
I shook my head, frustration creeping in despite myself.
"I tried using the Mind Stone to enhance my intelligence too. Same result. Nothing."
Which was infuriating, because I knew it was possible. The Mind Stone had boosted my mental capacity back when I dealt with Galactus. I had felt it. But no matter what angle I tried now, no matter how carefully I nudged it, I couldn't reproduce the effect.
Millicas's education hadn't helped either. Mental disciplines like that were far beyond what he'd been taught.
Taking over the body of an eleven-year-old had its downsides.
"Besides," I continued, "Company defenses trump even the Infinity Stones. And I don't want to even think about a scenario where one of us gets turned against the rest."
Natasha didn't interrupt, but I could tell she was already running through the same possibilities I was.
If Natasha or Petra were controlled, they could cause serious damage before I stopped them. If it happened to Wanda… it would be catastrophic. The only thing I had that could reliably counter her Chaos Magic was my Power of Destruction, and there was no universe where I was willing to use that on her.
And if I was the one who got puppeteered?
I could kill all of them.
They wouldn't even have a chance.
"Do it," Natasha said quietly, meeting my eyes.
I nodded and confirmed the purchases.
This time, I felt it.
It was subtle—so faint it would've been easy to miss if I wasn't paying attention. A sensation like a thin void hovering just above my skin, not physical but present. I could reach through it effortlessly, like it wasn't there at all.
But I knew, instinctively, that no one else could.
Checking my balance made me wince a little.
Sixty-four credits left.
Not enough for another big defense, not even close, but enough for something small. Something useful. And if I only ever spent credits on myself, I would be a pretty terrible King.
I leaned back, scrolling thoughtfully.
"How about Talent Sharing for Martial Talent and Soul Talent?" I asked. "Most of what we do is magic anyway, and better fundamentals never hurt. Especially for Petra."
Natasha hummed, already thinking it through.
"It would let us learn from each other faster," she said. "Skills, instincts, techniques. Everything would cross-pollinate."
She glanced at me, approving.
"Smart. Do it."
Another purchase. Another quiet confirmation. Twenty credits gone.
I was down to forty-four.
I lingered on the remaining options longer this time. Pocket Apartment was still tempting. More talents would always pay dividends. Templates, for me or one of my girls, were also every tempting.
But as I scrolled, a different realization settled in.
So far, everyone in my peerage came from the MCU.
Natasha. Wanda. Petra.
I had no regrets about any of them. But if I was serious about building something lasting—about getting the best allies, the strongest foundations, the widest range of abilities—I couldn't stay comfortable forever.
Different settings meant different rules. Different power systems. Different kinds of monsters, heroes, and waifus.
I had built us a good life here. A safe one. Comfortable. Familiar.
But I wasn't meant to stay in one world.
And as much as I wanted to tell myself to wait—to train more, prepare more, stack the odds even higher—I knew the truth.
There would never be a perfect moment.
I was strong. My defenses were solid. My peerage was growing, bonded, and protected. If I kept hesitating now, it wouldn't be caution. It would be fear.
So I stopped stalling and made my choice.
Exit Stage Left. And We Will Meet Again too, just to be sure we could come back when we needed to.
"Are you sure that is a good idea?" Natasha asked. Her voice was calm, but I knew her well enough by now to hear the concern underneath it. "I thought the plan was to finish your mission here before we left."
I shook my head slowly, eyes never leaving the menu.
"I can't keep hesitating forever," I said. Saying it out loud made it feel more real, less like a thought I could keep circling without committing to. "We are strong. We'll be fine."
There was a brief pause after that. Not disagreement—consideration. Finally, she nodded, accepting the decision even if she didn't love it.
I had derailed this world so thoroughly that it barely resembled the story it was supposed to tell. Natasha, Wanda, and Petra would never play the roles their canon selves had been destined for.
Ultron would never rise. HYDRA had been dismantled. The Avengers were whole—if diminished by Natasha's absence. Vision would never exist. Ronan the Accuser would never find the Power Stone. Ego would never locate his son.
And with the Infinity Stones already in my possession, Thanos would never assemble the Gauntlet. There would be no desperate last stands, no universal extinction event, no snap of cosmic fingers that erased half of all life.
The Infinity Saga would never happen.
At the bottom of the screen, there was a single button labeled Generate Portal. Clean. Final. Waiting.
Between it and the completely filled bar sat a simple line of text.
Destination: Worm (Earth Bet – 2011)
Danger Rating: 8
"Of course it is," I sighed.
I didn't know what I had been expecting, but it wasn't the place colloquially known as the armpit of the Multiverse.
"What's wrong?" Natasha asked, turning toward me.
"Earth Bet is horrible," I said flatly.
That got her attention.
"Is it dangerous?"
I shrugged, rolling one shoulder.
"Kind of?" I said. "It has some insanely dangerous powers, but with our powers and defenses, we should be fine."
For the most part, anyway. Earth Bet wasn't dangerous in the straightforward way the MCU was. Most of the threats there weren't even all that conventionally powerful. Steve would have been a strong parahuman. Tony, even with only the suit he used during the Battle of New York, would have been nearly untouchable. Thor or Hulk could have easily been on the same level as the Triumvirate, if not above them.
But the kind of abilities that could bypass durability or attack in unconventional ways were far too common for my liking. I immediately regretted not buying a template with regeneration for all of us instead of spending my credits on defenses.
Thankfully, those powers were usually wielded by people who couldn't take it if we hit back. Glass cannons. Dangerous, but fragile. I reminded myself that if most parahumans there didn't have any real level of superhuman durability and managed to survive as long as they did, then we shouldn't have had any problems. We were stronger, faster, tougher, and far more versatile than the average cape.
"So what's the problem?" Natasha asked.
"The problem is that Earth Bet is filled with petty, selfish, shortsighted, and incredibly stupid people," I said. "Almost everyone important is either cartoonishly evil or so stubborn and incompetent that they somehow manage to do more harm than the actual villains."
Natasha blinked at me.
"That bad?"
"Worse," I said without hesitation. "Needless to say, I definitely don't want to recruit anyone from there."
I found myself reconsidering my choice.
If I could get another infusion of credits, I could buy Pursued by a Bear and open up far more options. Worlds with better power systems. Better people. Better long-term prospects. I was even tempted to take out a loan just to make it happen—but without a reliable way to earn credits quickly, going into debt right before stepping into a high-danger setting sounded like a fantastic way to die permanently.
I was still weighing the risks when the system chimed.
A notification slid into view.
A new mission.
I stared at it for a second, then huffed a quiet, humorless laugh.
Mission Type: Target Elimination
Location: Worm (Earth Bet – 2011)
Scope: Quick
We've identified an anomaly in the Shard Network that is of interest to the Research and Development team. Eliminate the Warrior intelligence so we can analyze the network and find the source of the anomaly.
Reward: 100 Credits
I slowly leaned back, eyes fixed on the text.
"…You have got to be kidding me."
"You don't have to take it," Natasha said quietly.
I shook my head.
"We need more credits," I said. "I'm not about to turn down a mission just because I don't want to do it. Even if I really, really don't want to do it."
I closed my eyes for a moment, breathing out slowly and forcing the irritation and second-guessing back down where they belonged. Hesitation had already cost me enough time.
When I opened them again, Natasha was watching me carefully.
"Do you know what this Warrior intelligence is?" she asked.
"Earth Bet has beings called Entities," I said. "Think multidimensional space parasites, but with godlike power and zero empathy."
That got her full attention.
"They travel in pairs or groups," I continued. "Each one is made up of countless fragments called shards. When an Entity arrives at a new world, it sends those shards out to attach themselves to people at their breaking points. Extreme trauma. Fear. Loss. That moment where something inside a person snaps. They are called Trigger Events."
I paused, trying to remember everything I knew about Worm.
"The shards grant powers, and the hosts—called parahumans—use them. The shards watch, record, experiment. Every fight, every creative application of an ability, every clever workaround—it all gets fed back into the network."
"Why?" she asked.
"Data," I said flatly. "The Entities are trying to solve entropy. They want infinite energy so they can live forever. They're brilliant beyond comprehension, but they lack creativity. So they outsource it. They seed entire civilizations with superpowers and wait to see what happens."
Natasha's expression darkened.
"And the Warrior intelligence?"
"One of the two main Entities on Earth Bet," I said. "The one responsible for most of the shards in circulation. The big one. The active one."
Her eyes narrowed.
"And we have to fight that," she said. "I thought you said Earth Bet wasn't dangerous."
I let out a short breath.
"Scion, the Warrior's avatar, is significantly stronger than anything else there," I said. "I think he explicitly made himself powerful enough that no one else could beat him."
"Besides him," I continued, "the only things I'm not sure we can beat are the Endbringers."
"The name doesn't inspire confidence," Natasha said drily.
I chuckled, despite myself.
"They're essentially siege engines," I said. "Living disasters. They show up, hit key infrastructure, population centers, or symbolic locations, then leave once enough damage has been done. The goal isn't conquest—it's escalation. More fear. More desperation. More conflict between parahumans."
Which meant more data.
"They're classified as T9 capture targets," I added, rolling the designation around in my head. "But that rating is misleading. A big part of it comes from how hard they are to kill, not necessarily how hard they hit."
I raised my hand and briefly formed a small Sphere of Destruction. It hovered there, contained and quiet, a perfectly smooth void that erased light rather than reflecting it.
"They hold back a lot," I said. "No one really knows what their full combat output looks like. But their durability is what makes them nightmares. Layers of impossibly dense, crystalline flesh, each one tougher than the last. Most attacks barely scratch them."
I let the sphere dissipate.
"But durability only matters if the attack respects it," I said. "And I'm fairly confident my Power of Destruction doesn't."
It didn't care how much mass was compressed into a single point. A sufficiently large supernatural power gap could resist it, but Worm didn't really do supernatural in that sense. Everything there was ultimately mundane—just physics pushed sideways by alien math. And crystalline flesh, no matter how dense, shouldn't be any more capable of resisting erasure than steel.
"Unfortunately, they get to do things that are very hard to resist or counter," I said.
With a few quick swipes, I brought up the Catalog entries for the three active Endbringers.
"Leviathan is a hydrokinetic," I said, tapping the first entry. "Under normal circumstances, he only manipulates a limited amount of water. Limited being a relative term—enough to drown coastlines and flatten cities."
The image rotated slowly, a massive, sleek green shape coiled like a living tidal wave.
"If he ever stops holding back," I continued, "there's a real possibility he could control the water inside our bodies."
Natasha studied the image in silence for a moment, her expression sharpening as she committed every detail to memory.
"Behemoth is a dynakinetic," I said, swiping to the next entry. The screen filled with the image of a towering, rocky abomination shot through with glowing fissures. "He controls most forms of energy. Heat, radiation, electricity—anything that can be categorized that way."
"He shouldn't be able to affect our demonic power directly," I added, "but that's not the real issue."
She glanced at me. "Let me guess. He cooks anyone who gets too close from the inside out?"
"Pretty much," I said. "His kill aura ramps energy levels in the surrounding area until living things just… fail. Organs shut down, cells rupture, brains boil. We might be able to resist it for a while, and I shouldn't even need to get close enough to be affected."
I hesitated, then added, "But he can increase the heat and the range. Enough that even I might not be completely safe if the kiddie gloves come off."
"Noted," she said flatly, eyes never leaving the image.
I swiped one last time.
"Finally, there's the Simurgh."
The screen filled with white and crystal, an impossibly graceful figure suspended in the air, wings spread like a cathedral made of glass.
"An angel?" Natasha asked.
"I think they based their forms on human stories," I said.
Or maybe Eidolon did when he accidentally woke them up.
I let that hang for a moment before continuing.
"She's a powerful telekinetic and a precognitive," I said. "On top of that, she specializes in long-term manipulation. She can nudge people into becoming her agents without them ever realizing it. Years, even decades later, they'll do exactly what she needs."
Natasha's expression darkened.
"Her precognition won't be able to see us," I went on. "And she won't be able to influence our minds. Company defenses handle both."
I paused, then added quietly, "But I know for a fact she can use telekinesis on internal organs. Directly."
"So don't hold back," she said, her voice calm and firm in that way it always got when she was done debating. "Don't give them a chance. Go for the kill. Immediately."
"I will." I nodded. There was no pride or thrill in this for me. No testing limits, no dramatic standoffs. If I had to face them, I would erase them before they had time to remind the world why they were feared.
"Beyond them, we aren't in that much danger," I said after a moment. "There are a few powers that could be annoying, even dangerous in the right circumstances, but for the most part? Nothing we can't handle."
She didn't answer right away. Instead, she studied me, her expression thoughtful in a way that made my shoulders tense. I knew that look. She was already planning around the risks I was trying not to think about.
"We can still afford a template," she said.
I shook my head immediately. "I'd rather keep the credits in reserve," I said. "If something goes wrong, having the option to make an emergency purchase could save all of us."
I hesitated, then added, "And honestly? I already have my Power of Destruction. Wanda has her Chaos Magic. Petra has her speed. If anyone could use a template, it's you."
"I'm not the one walking up to those monsters," she said, her tone sharp but not angry. "You said it yourself. They have ways to hurt you that you can't just brute-force through."
"Natasha, I'll be fine," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
She stepped closer and squeezed my arm, grounding me in a way no defense perk ever could.
"I know you will," she said softly. "But knowing something and feeling comfortable with it aren't the same. I'd feel a lot better if you bought something. Anything. Just… make sure you come back to us."
I met her eyes, really looked at her, and saw the worry she wasn't trying to hide. Not fear for the mission. Fear for me.
That was what did it.
I exhaled slowly. "Fine," I said.
Pulling the Catalog back up, I forced myself to slow down and think. This wasn't something I could afford to rush, not with how my Intensity options worked. I wasn't picking a temporary boost or a niche upgrade. This was it. One Template, probably for the rest of my existence.
So I went back to basics and reminded myself of what I actually needed.
Regeneration came first. Not convenience-level healing, not something that worked most of the time, but something reliable. Something that would keep me alive even if I misjudged an enemy, even if I got careless, even if I pushed myself too far. I didn't delude myself into thinking I'd never make mistakes. I just wanted to survive them.
Then power. Real power. Enough that I would never again find myself unable to protect what was mine. Enough that when I chose to stand my ground, the universe would be the one that had to compromise.
Skill mattered just as much. Raw power without the ability to wield it was a liability. If I was ever stripped of my supernatural advantages, even temporarily, I didn't want to be helpless. I wanted something ingrained. Muscle memory. Instincts. Experience that couldn't simply be taken away.
And finally, a transformation.
Part of me justified it as a tactical consideration. A trump card. A way to escalate instantly if things went sideways. A form that could shock, intimidate, or overwhelm before an enemy had time to adapt.
But another part of me was honest enough to admit the simpler truth.
Transformations were just really cool.
I spent a long time scrolling.
There were a lot of good options. Great ones, even. Wolverine stood out immediately: absurd regeneration, lethal natural weapons, and a lifetime of combat experience that would mesh well with my preferences. Alucard tempted me too, especially with his soul-based immortality—functionally extra lives stacked on top of each other, each death just another inconvenience. There were others as well, each filling some of my requirements, each whispering this is enough.
But "enough" wasn't what I was looking for.
I went over them again and again, weighing how they would interact with my existing abilities, how they would scale, where they fell short. I was meticulous to the point of obsession, because I knew myself well enough to understand that I would never stop comparing this choice to the ones I didn't take.
And slowly, inevitably, one option kept rising above the rest.
It didn't just check the boxes. It aligned with how I already fought. It reinforced my strengths instead of replacing them, and it patched my weaknesses without introducing new ones. It offered regeneration that bordered on unfair, power that grew more dangerous the more I leaned into it, and skill that was baked into the very nature of the Template itself. The transformation wasn't an afterthought either—it was integral, dramatic, and devastating in exactly the way I wanted.
I double-checked compatibility, especially with Millicas. I didn't want conflicts, contradictions, or dilution. Instead, I found the opposite. The Template didn't clash with what I was—it amplified it. Where my nature ended, it picked up. Where it began, my existing abilities sharpened it further.
That was when hesitation finally gave way to certainty.
My finger hovered over the purchase option for a moment longer than necessary. Not out of doubt, but out of respect for what I was about to become.
Then, with a quiet breath and no small amount of excitement, I made the purchase.