After the experiment, I dragged myself back to Hel—because obviously, where else would someone like me belong?
It felt like I'd only stepped out for a quick break, maybe to stretch my legs or scream into the void. But surprise, surprise—three days had passed. Time really does fly when you're achieving absolutely nothing.
Unfortunately, I hadn't received anything impressive from the system, let alone something that could help me resolve the current situation I was stuck in.
So, like any goddess with delusions of grandeur, I started rummaging through my personal storage space. Maybe I had missed something. Maybe there was a magical relic somewhere between the old socks and cursed artifacts that screamed "salvation." Spoiler: there wasn't.
But then I saw it—the cursed sword forged by Surtur. The useless legendary sword.
I've always thought it was more aesthetic than practical. You know, "for display purposes only." Upon closer inspection… yeah, still garbage. Still, desperate times, apocalyptic measures.
That's when a beautifully unhinged idea struck me: why not try the last resort of all those half-naked Chinese cultivators with impossible abs?
Yes. The Dantian Method.
Specifically, the Apotheosis Method—because becoming a walking pocket universe sounds like a totally stable and not-at-all horrifying idea.
I vaguely remember the manga where the entire universe was inside some guy's stomach. Then they found out that universe was inside someone else, and so on, until the plot was so layered it made Inception look like kindergarten nap time.
Ah, the joys of Chinese cultivation stories—one cosmic horror after another, stacked like spiritual Russian dolls. And by the end, after climbing multiversal Mount Doom, the protagonist learns he's from the planetary equivalent of a rural gas station.
I think Saint Seiya tried something similar once? Or maybe I hallucinated that during a fever dream. Hard to tell. Point is: this "inner world" concept? It's morbidly fascinating.
And terrifying.
Imagine harboring billions—no, trillions—of lives inside your gut. Little screaming souls bouncing around your intestines. That's not just a metaphor for anxiety. That's a literal problem generator. And let's not forget—mutants. There would be mutants.
What if one of them, I don't know, awakened a power that vaporized a dimension? Inside me?
I mean, I've never had indigestion before since I came into Hela's body. Maybe it'll be worth the try?
Still… what if it works? What if I could carry that inner universe with me when I travel between worlds? Suddenly, I'm not just a solitary goddess with identity issues—I'm a mobile civilization. A walking refugee camp. A cosmic USB stick full of potential.
That idea hit me like a bolt of divine nonsense. If it's possible, it changes everything. I wouldn't have to just survive. I could thrive. And if I push the idea far enough—who's to say I couldn't start… collecting?
Other Earths, alternate timelines, entire chunks of galaxies, and even other Earths outside the Marvel Universe. Toss them in the bag. Turn them into power sources. Organize them by aesthetic. "This one glows blue when I'm moody."
But of course, before I commit to harvesting parallel Earths like ripe mangoes, there's one little thing I still need to do.
Have a chat with the Ancient One.
Because if there's anyone who might look at my idea and say, "Oh yes, very plausible. Here's a map and a beginner's guide," it's her. Her wisdom has always been right up there with the Third Hokage—if the Third Hokage had access to LSD and multiversal mirrors.
Right now, she's still in Hel, playing peekaboo in the Mirror Dimension like the world's classiest stalker. Even though the locals in Hel are no longer Earthlings, she insists on keeping the mystery act alive. Because nothing says "power" like being cryptic and vaguely condescending. Still, she might surprise me.
The Ancient One was, indeed, observing Hel—a place she had never once set foot in, since she had never had a direct encounter with Hela before.
Had she not known for a fact that this was truly Hel, she might have doubted it entirely. The realm before her looked more deserving of the title of "paradise" than the actual Heavens she had visited during her countless years of travel.
Her role, after all, had always been to repel and neutralize entities like the Lords of Hell. And yet, none of the hellish dimensions she had encountered bore even the slightest resemblance to this one.
On top of that, the land on which the new inhabitants of this realm now stood… the Ancient One recognized it. She was fully aware when Hela had "borrowed" it.
And yet, the island had been transformed so thoroughly that it now bore little to no resemblance to how she remembered it. Thankfully, the Ancient One was quick to find the cause.
Krakoa—it gave off a signature she could immediately identify.
That was the mysterious energy, and the very reason she had followed Hela here in the first place. Upon arrival, she had immediately sensed the unique energy flowing through the island's core.
But even then, despite her curiosity, she hadn't tried to absorb any of it. Not only would it be reckless—it was strictly taboo to siphon the energy of a dimensional lord without their express consent.
Especially when the sovereign in question was someone as unpredictable as Hela. A misstep could lead to consequences far beyond the physical.
Still, if there was one virtue the Ancient One did not lack, it was patience. She knew that Hela was aware of her presence. After all, it was Hela who had allowed her to enter in the first place.
So she waited.
She observed the realm, meditated within the dimensional mirror, and simply waited for Hela to come see her. Fortunately, the Goddess of Death did not keep her waiting for long.
At least, not by the standards of someone who had lived as many lifetimes as the Ancient One. Three days was barely a blink.
Then, Hela appeared—teleporting directly into the Mirror Dimension without ceremony or warning.
"Well, I see you've made yourself comfortable," Hela said with a faintly sarcastic tone, one eyebrow raised ever so slightly.
The Ancient One smiled—unbothered by the jab—and swiftly shifted the conversation.
"What you've done is nothing short of extraordinary," she said.
"In all my experience about time's many branches and the alternate layers of the multiverse, I have never once seen a scene quite like the one outside."
She was referring to the gathering beyond the mirror: Jean Grey, Wanda, Magneto, Natasha Romanoff, Gali—a diverse and unlikely group of individuals with little in common, now sitting together and discussing how they would live in a realm born of Hela herself.
The same Hela who, in every record of history, was described as a destroyer of kingdoms, a walking calamity against the order of realms and civilization.
Her words made Hela smile slightly, the edge of her lips curling in amused defiance.
"Of course it's different," she replied casually. "After all, the person standing before you isn't as simple as you might think."
It was clear that Hela, much like Tony Stark, was not immune to moments of egotism. She even allowed herself a playful boast—though she quickly replaced it with a more serious expression. It was a joke, after all… mostly.
Matters of time and the multiverse weren't exactly her specialty. Surely there were rules she had yet to understand. She was aware of this. So how could she possibly be arrogant just because her universe had taken a different path?
"I know what you're interested in," Hela continued, her tone cooling. "And while I can't give it to you just yet, I can allow you to study it. Trust me—it's something you won't find anywhere else in the entire stretch of this multiverse."
Her voice dropped slightly, becoming almost conspiratorial.
"But of course, I have many conditions. So tell me—what do you think?"
Did she understand the message I slipped in? That you won't find this anywhere in the whole multiverse?
I can't be sure. But given her intelligence… it's more than likely.
And honestly, I don't mind if she or Kamar-Taj ends up becoming one of my power sources. Most of the people there—even the weaker ones—are among the most gifted human beings alive in the mystical arts.
If, for example, I granted them access to the Ethernano—which is, in many ways, a manifestation of one's willpower—they would generate even more of it, constantly, tirelessly, until the moment of their deaths.
(END OF THE CHAPTER)
It's 2 in the morning but I have managed to write this 🔥 but I'm trying something new, you can point out if there's some grammar issues and don't forget to vote guys.