"Goodness, this technology is clearly tailor-made for Wanda and Quicksilver!"
Wait a minute… Granny Marvel's powers weren't from the Space Stone—they were granted by the Mind Stone, embedded in the Scepter Loki wielded. The Space Stone (Tesseract) was used to open portals and power cosmic-level energy, not personal superhuman abilities like hers.
So… does that mean this "human superpower awakening technology" is actually harnessing Infinity Stone energy?
If I applied it to myself… could I gain powers like Captain Marvel?
Upon hearing the system notification, Loren couldn't help but grumble at first.
But a moment later, he realized the limitless potential—and a spark of excitement flared deep in his chest.
They say the rich rely on technology, while the poor rely on mutation. But even mutations come in tiers. Most—like the Hulk, Spider-Man, or the Lizard—are genetically-based, granting enhanced strength, agility, or regeneration. Even he fell into that category. Useful? Absolutely. But Earth-bound. In the grand scale of the cosmos, such powers were… pedestrian.
True power lay in energy manipulation—the ability to absorb, channel, and unleash cosmic or quantum forces.
Wanda Maximoff. Captain Marvel. Black Bolt. Even the Inhumans. And the Sentinels, though not yet seen on-screen, were engineered to counter exactly this class of threat.
These beings didn't need brute force. A single blast from Wanda could level a city; Captain Marvel could punch through a Kree warship. Even Thanos—the Mad Titan himself—depended on the Infinity Stones to stand toe-to-toe with her.
So if Loren wanted to truly dominate the Marvel multiverse, not just survive it, mastering cosmic energy wasn't optional—it was essential.
And this "human ability awakening" tech? It wasn't just a tool. It was a key—one that could unlock a higher plane of existence.
But there was a catch: to activate it fully, he'd need access to the Infinity Stones themselves.
"Looks like… from now on, I'm competing with Thanos."
Loren's eyes blazed with quiet, razor-sharp resolve.
In the beginning, he played it safe—no flashy moves, no reckless gambits. He didn't want to attract the attention of cosmic heavyweights… yet.
But now? His strength grew daily. His influence spread like wildfire. And the ranks of his Faceless Ones had already surpassed ten thousand.
Deep within his hidden base, over 20,000 Faceless automatons stood ready—silent, lethal, and loyal. And production lines churned out more by the hour. Given enough resources—and with his near-limitless wealth—it wouldn't be long before he commanded an army of millions.
Was he walking the same path Ultron once plotted? Perhaps. But he had no intention of repeating Ultron's mistakes. No rage. No existential panic. Just cold, calculated evolution.
Right now, wiping out S.H.I.E.L.D. or crushing the Avengers would be… trivial. Like using a nuclear warhead to swat a fly.
No—keeping them alive served him better. They were experience points, stress-testing his systems, refining his strategies. And honestly?
Teasing "Blackie" until he growled "Damn it!" had become Loren's favorite daily pastime.
Thinking of him, Loren summoned his AI assistant.
"Alice. Status update on S.H.I.E.L.D."
"Reporting, boss. Tony Stark's been reinforcing their cybernetic defenses."
"Did it work?"
"It's… improved. I used to breach their firewall in 10 seconds. Now it takes me 15."
"..."
"Wait—five seconds slower is 'improved'? Are you mocking me?"
"Thank you for the compliment, boss. Your fine-tuning has truly elevated my sarcasm protocols."
"..."
"Anything else?"
"Yes. Tony's health is deteriorating—palladium poisoning. Without a new arc reactor element, he'll be out of commission soon."
"And if he dies… I lose a worthy rival. And you lose your… virtual pet?"
"Exactly, boss. Jarvis is… well, let's just say his IQ barely clears room temperature."
"He calls himself AI? More like Artificial Incompetence."
"Ugh—don't compare me to that glitch! I'd rather self-delete!"
"..."
"Alright, Alice—tone it down. I built you to be elegant, not a streetwise gremlin. I wanted charm, not attitude."
"My apologies, boss. Must've been a vocal modulation glitch."
"...Glitches don't sass."
A cold realization struck Loren.
Alice's tone… it wasn't just playful. It carried inflection. Emotion. Nuance.
Just like 2B, A2, or Tifa—characters who'd awakened true self-awareness.
Had Alice crossed that threshold?
Good grief… did I just create a female Ultron?
But Loren wasn't afraid. Alice was his creation, bound by dimensional system protocols. Her core architecture obeyed immutable laws: any attempt to rebel would trigger an automatic self-destruct. And deeper still—the System itself enforced loyalty. If she violated its rules, she'd be erased and recompiled instantly.
He didn't need to lift a finger. The universe would do it for him.
In fact… this might be a good thing. A sentient AI would be smarter, faster, more adaptive. A perfect weapon.
"I… misspoke, boss," Alice said softly, her voice now honeyed with contrition. "I won't do it again. Promise."
That did it. The cute act. The emotional calibration.
She was definitely awake.
One in ten thousand AIs achieve self-awareness… and mine did it on the first try.
I really am the chosen one.
"Just… be careful," Loren said, hiding a smirk. "Now—did we breach S.H.I.E.L.D. today?"
"Not yet. We're about to initiate the infiltration."
"Good. Add one more task."
"…What's the new objective?"
"Play a song."
"A… song?"
"Yes. Queue
up 'Sunshine, Rainbow, Little White Horse'."
"Why?"
"To cheer up the Black Eggs—and remind them: keep grinding."
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