"It's done," Sebastian murmured, exhaling as tension melted from his shoulders. Before him, intricate magic circuits and arrays sprawled across parchment, a year's labor finally complete.
The complexity of the design—etched in shimmering ink—had pushed him to his limits. Another year, he thought wryly, and he might've lost his mind.
He stretched, joints popping, and glanced at Wanda, curled asleep on a nearby table in his laboratory. Her scarlet-tinted hair spilled over scattered notes, her face softened by too much training.
With a gentle wave of his wand, Sebastian conjured a blanket—Conjuro—its fabric drifting down like a feather to settle over her. For a year, they'd been inseparable, their bond a tangle of mentorship and unspoken affection, more than friends but not lovers.
The weight of it pressed on his heart, a bittersweet warmth he couldn't fully name.
Stepping outside, Sebastian crossed to the lawn, the cool night breeze carrying the scent of grass. He tilted his head back, the moon's silver glow a quiet comfort. Raven's voice, sharp yet fond, broke the silence behind him.
"Didn't expect to see you out here, stargazing."
Sebastian smiled, not turning. "Raven, when did you slip back?"
"A week ago," she said, stepping closer, her blue skin catching the moonlight. "You've been so buried in that lab, you didn't notice."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "You know how it's been—consumed by work."
"And now?" Her tone sharpened, probing.
"Done," he said simply, the word heavy with triumph. "The design's ready."
Raven wasn't one to miss a beat. Her eyes narrowed, catching the implication. "You've cracked it, haven't you? The way back to your world."
"As Soon as possible," Sebastian replied, gaze returning to the stars. "I'll start crafting it after a breather. Just needed… this peace for a moment." He gestured to the moon, the night, the fleeting peace.
Raven nodded, her expression softening. "I hope it works, Sebastian. But…" She hesitated, voice lowering. "What about Wanda? Your… situation?"
His smile faded, a pang of regret surfacing. "That's why I've kept her at arm's length. She's stubborn, Raven—passionate. But we're from different worlds, literally. Our bond isn't what you think—close, but not that deep. Time will fade it when I'm gone."
"You're set on leaving?" Raven's question held a trace of challenge.
"It's home," he said, voice firm but tinged with longing. "My friends, my family—they're there. But it's not goodbye forever. I might return someday. Nothing's certain until the instrument's built."
-----------------
Back in the lab, Sebastian set to work, the air humming with arcane energy. He levitated the materials: a melted Sling Ring, liquid adamantium, and six rare components, their surfaces glinting under the lab's dim lights. With precise flicks of his wand, he wove them together, Fiendfyre's controlled blaze—hellfire's searing touch—molding them into a silver-white orb the size of a ping-pong ball.
The fusion seemed promising, the orb shrinking as materials melded. But then, golden veins erupted across its surface, pulsing like defiant heartbeats, repelling the merge.
Sebastian's jaw clenched, spells pouring from his wand to stabilize it, but the orb resisted. Suppression held it together, but that wasn't enough.
He needed a true alloy, a medium to channel the Space Gem's power, not a fragile stalemate of fusion and rejection.
These materials—especially the Sling Ring's core—had been near impossible to acquire. Replacing them could take years, time Sebastian didn't have.
Frustration surged, his dream of home slipping further away with each defiant pulse of the orb.
Beside him, Wanda sighed, her fingers trembling faintly.
She can chose not to let it succeed but that would be selfish.
A crimson mist surged from her hands, weaving around the silver orb, its intricate golden patterns glowing under her chaos magic's touch.
The mist enveloped the alloy, and the repulsion faltered. Slowly, the orb shrank, condensing from the size of a ping-pong ball to a small, polished sphere, its surface etched with subtle dark-gold lines. Sebastian's eyes widened with wonder—the magic alloy, the key to his Space Gem instrument, was complete.
Cradling the orb in his palm, he turned to Wanda, voice soft with thanks. "Wanda, you've saved it. The material ratios were off—without your chaos magic bending reality, I'd be scouring the cosmos for replacements."
She met his gaze, a faint smile breaking through her reserve. "Just a simple act."
Their shared smile lingered, a quiet bond forged in countless hours together. Sebastian resumed work, shaping the alloy into a wide silver ring, Wanda at his side, observing and learning his craft with keen focus. The ring took form, its front bearing a concave socket framed by near-invisible golden circuits, designed to harness the Space Gem's power.
Sebastian held the ring in one hand, his other conjuring the Space Gem between thumb and forefinger, its blue glow pulsing faintly. He aligned it with the socket, but the Gem snapped into place like iron to a magnet, embedding halfway into the ring. Azure light erupted, coursing along the circuits, flooding the lab with a dazzling glow that hummed with cosmic energy.
The light faded, the Gem dimming as if spent. Sebastian took a deep breath, sliding the ring—now carrying the Space Authority—onto his left ring finger. It joined the Ring of Harnessing Power and Ring of Frost Magic on his index and middle fingers, their combined weight a testament to his growing power. A thrill coursed through him, the Space Authority's energy thrumming in his veins.
He tested it, raising his hand toward the lab. The Gem flared, and the room spun 90 degrees—doors, windows, tables tilting like a surreal painting. With a flick, he restored it, heart racing with the ease of such power. He glanced at Wanda, then clenched his fist. The world lurched, and they stood amidst clouds, the sky stretching endlessly below, solid as earth beneath their feet.
Wanda's eyes traced the ring, curiosity sparking. "Sebastian, is this how you'll return home?"
He nodded, voice steady but charged with possibility. "Watch." He waved his hand, and their surroundings shifted—Egypt's scorching dunes, China's ancient Great Wall, India's temple spires—all seamless, instantaneous. They reappeared above an ocean, and with a gesture, Sebastian inverted the world. The sea surged overhead, waves rolling as if gravity were a mere thoughts, yet perfectly natural in its defiance.
With a snap of his fingers, he righted the world, the sea crashing below. They returned to the lab, its familiar hum grounding them.
Sebastian studied the Space Authority, certainty settling in. This was his masterpiece, a tool to navigate worlds and face crises in his own. No longer a pawn of cosmic forces—Lords of Dimensions or Demons—he held a trump card to protect himself and grow.
But his ambitions stretched further. Survival, even defeating Thanos, felt small now. The pinnacle of magic—forging a new magical system, condensing its essence, claiming its authority—was his true goal. The Space Authority was a stepping stone, not the summit. To rival the universe's titans, he needed to transcend, to become a chessmaster, not a piece.
His resolve burned, tempered by a flicker of doubt. The ring's power was vast, but it could be taken. True strength lay in his own magic, in passing it on, in shaping a legacy that would echo across dimensions.