New book
Food Wars: Not about Food
S.W.O.R.D.?
Fury didn't hesitate at all before agreeing. In fact, he found it more interesting than S.H.I.E.L.D.
With aliens appearing one after another, they needed an organization that could communicate with extraterrestrial civilizations and clean up the mess they left behind.
So Fury didn't think much further and directly approved the name Noah proposed.
Noah was a little surprised by how easily it was settled. He chuckled quietly to himself.
There had never really been a S.W.O.R.D. in the Marvel Cinematic Universe—at least not before his transmigration.
Creating one out of thin air felt amusing.
If that stole the spotlight from Abigail Brand or Carol Danvers in the future, so be it. Noah didn't care. Who knew if they'd even show up?
Creating it first wasn't a problem.
"And since we're copying," Noah continued casually, "let's copy properly. S.H.I.E.L.D. has Helicarriers, right? Redesign them into broadswords."
"Even if they all get destroyed this time, just make Tony pay for it."
"He's absorbed so much of my Star Wars tech already. I don't believe he can't make this."
In the end, Noah still hoped Fury would place the order with Tony.
Stark Industries or Ark—it didn't matter which name was used. Both were his territory.
Still, Noah preferred Ark.
After all, Ark was his creation. Its purpose was to merge magic and technology, or at least attempt to create something beyond Earth's current limits.
He didn't say any of that out loud. It would sound too deliberate.
Besides, Fury was poor.
At least on the surface.
Who knew how much this guy had skimmed over the years?
"Hm? Where… is this?"
Bucky slowly woke up.
He looked around in confusion.
The environment felt too sci-fi. There was nothing like this in his memories.
Except for the corpses scattered everywhere.
"You… who are you?"
He lifted his head, looked at Rogers—and froze.
"Steve?"
"Bucky…" Rogers' voice trembled slightly.
Noah shook his head.
He had no interest in watching this continue.
This pair gave him the same feeling he'd had watching Sirius Black and Remus Lupin back in the day. Or Loki and Thor.
Disgustingly mawkish.
Unbearable.
He turned and looked at Wick.
After a brief pause, Noah waved his hand.
The pistol in Wick's grip flew straight into Noah's.
He used magic openly this time.
With practiced movements, he removed the magazine. Then he curled a finger.
A bullet flew out and landed in his palm.
Faint golden magic flowed from Noah's fingertips and seeped into the bullet.
Slowly, the glow faded.
The orange-yellow bullet now carried a subtle rhythm.
Noah casually tossed it forward.
The bullet floated in front of Wick as Noah calmly reassembled the gun.
Wick reached out, took the bullet, and examined it carefully.
He could feel something inside it.
Power.
Looking closer, he noticed faint markings carved into the surface.
Runes—at least, that was his best guess.
"This bullet contains my magic," Noah said plainly.
"Under normal circumstances, it can save your life at least three times."
"And when you find that damned Arab," he added, "fire this bullet."
"I'll appear."
Wick thought for a moment, then clenched the bullet tightly.
Noah patted his shoulder and leaned closer, whispering:
"If you shave your beard, cut your hair, wear a black trench coat, longer leather boots, and sunglasses…"
"You'd look much better."
Constantine heard every word.
His face darkened immediately.
He didn't know exactly what image Noah was describing, but after thinking it through, he realized it didn't overlap with his own style.
So he stayed silent.
Especially after hearing Noah's final sentence.
"You'll be called Thomas Anderson from now on."
"Or just—Neo."
After handing the bullet to Wick, Noah left immediately.
Fury assigned the mission of destroying the three Helicarriers inside S.H.I.E.L.D. to Rogers and Bucky.
With that settled, he could head to Washington D.C. to meet the higher-ups without concern.
Rogers and Bucky didn't refuse.
Bucky had already learned about his situation from Fury and Steve. It wasn't complete, but it was enough.
Enough to make him furious.
He chose to act without hesitation.
To prevent them from getting lost—since one of them was even less familiar with the modern world than Steve—Fury sent Natasha along.
It was, simply put, a dream team.
In the original timeline, Steve handled this alone.
This time, he had backup. And not just any backup—the original boss was on his side.
Failure wasn't an option.
Noah didn't worry about it.
He returned to his Sanctum and rested.
Honestly, he'd enjoyed himself.
He didn't storm a bar alone like Wick, but he finally got to use a gun properly.
He even tested different shooting techniques.
A long-held wish fulfilled.
So Noah planned to rest for a while.
Then deal with Kamar-Taj matters.
Nagini's situation, for example.
Nagini wasn't in a hurry.
Mordo had already informed her about Kamar-Taj's preparations.
They were recruiting sorcerers now.
Many had shown interest in soul magic.
That meant screening. Competition.
Time.
So Nagini stayed patient.
Loki didn't.
Ever since returning from the parallel universe, he'd been obsessing over the Casket of Ancient Winters.
Without the final trump card, he hadn't dared to fully infuse himself with frost power.
Now the people were here.
And Noah had gone off to play.
Loki couldn't stand it.
Noah explained. Repeatedly.
Loki didn't listen.
At one point, Noah nearly punished him severely.
He stopped himself.
They were on Earth, after all.
"What a pity," Noah muttered. "I should've beaten him properly back in the Star Wars universe."
"He was so well-behaved back then. Not this annoying."
"Is he feeling pressured now that he's back?"
Noah rubbed his chin, mildly regretful.
After some thought, he decided to speed things up.
Otherwise, Loki would never stop bothering him.
He instructed Mordo and the others to accelerate the process.
Mordo could only call him helplessly.
"Can you not rush everything? Why don't you come handle it yourself?"
"You are the next Sorcerer Supreme, after all—"
"Huh?" Noah interrupted. "Bad signal. Can't hear you."
"We'll talk later."
He paused.
"Oh, by the way, my phone's dead. And I won't be replying on WeChat either."
"That's all."
"…"
Mordo finally experienced Noah's shamelessness firsthand.
He sighed, shaking his head.
Still, he handled it.
What choice did he have?
Besides, this benefited sorcerers anyway.
So he accelerated the process.
He'd be busy.
But he didn't mind.
Managing Kamar-Taj was his responsibility—and something he genuinely enjoyed.
After that call, Noah's life finally settled down.
Loki stopped bothering him.
Noah lived comfortably.
He chatted with Hermione when he could.
She was Minister for Magic now, busy beyond measure, so calls were short.
He taught Lily when he had time—mostly to keep Snape from showing up uninvited.
And he spent time with Madam Haiven.
She had fully immersed herself in magic.
Aside from managing the Sanctum and looking after Noah, she devoted everything to her studies.
Her skills grew rapidly.
Life was comfortable.
Peaceful.
Until one day.
Noah was teaching Lily when a muffled thunderclap rolled across the sky.
It startled Loki.
And it startled Noah just as much.