A dull thud—nothing especially loud. But the instant it rang out, the entire Sanctum Sanctorum, and even the surrounding space-time itself, jolted violently.
It wasn't a physical tremor.
It was the spatial structure itself shuddering.
Strange felt it in shock. The Vishanti's magical energy currents were abruptly disrupted by an outrageously brutal force, turning chaotic and unstable. What he couldn't comprehend was that this force wasn't magic, nor any known form of energy.
It was pure, direct physical power.
And yet that power… had pierced through the boundary of dimensions?!
The shockwave spread along the floor, through the air, through invisible nodes in space itself, expanding like a web. The twisted spatial rifts cracked like glass struck by a stone, making sharp "crack-crack" sounds as more fissures instantly spiderwebbed across them.
Then every magical creature surging out of the rifts froze at the same time, as if an invisible hand had clamped their throats. They let out shrill, inhuman screams. Their bodies began to warp and contort, and then they were dragged back into the rifts they came from.
It was as if space itself had generated a powerful repulsive force, forcibly expelling these "foreign objects."
In the blink of an eye, the hall was empty.
And the rifts, which had been crawling with cracks, were smoothed away like wrinkles being ironed flat. They sealed up, vanished, and the Sanctum returned to normal. Only the battered interior and shattered décor remained as proof that a fierce battle had just taken place.
Silence.
A dead, absolute silence.
Strange slowly descended from the air and landed on the floor, staring in disbelief at the ground—smooth as if nothing had happened, except for the shallow dent where Saitama's fist had struck. He looked around at the stabilized space. Even his Cloak of Levitation seemed startled, its edges curling slightly.
Baron Mordo's jaw hung open. He nearly dropped the Staff of the Living Tribunal. A dimensional invasion they couldn't resolve even by pouring out their full magic and drawing on the Sanctum's power…
Had been solved by this bald man…
With one punch…
Into the floor…
Saitama looked around at the room now returned to normal, then at Strange and Mordo—both staring blankly. Realization dawned on his face.
"Ah… so I really did come to the wrong place." He gave them an apologetic smile. "Sorry for the trouble."
He turned, pushed open the now-normal door, stepped outside, and even pulled it shut behind him.
Strange still didn't snap out of it.
He had devoted his life to magic. He understood its mysteries and its might, and he believed magic was the only path to confronting multidimensional threats. But today, for the first time, the "absolute" nature of magic wavered in his mind.
That bald man had used a method he couldn't understand at all—something like…
"Magic is useless."
And with it, he had resolved a crisis that even the Sorcerer Supreme found thorny.
"He… what exactly is he?" Strange murmured.
For the first time, he felt the world might be even more complex… and even more unbelievable… than he had ever imagined.
Washington, D.C.—the National Mall.
This core ground, symbolic of America's spirit, was now shrouded in steel and flames. Ultron had resurfaced after a long period of hiding and evolution, baring its twisted fangs once more.
(End of Chapter)
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