Anderson was escorted into the interrogation shuttle surrounded by three layers of security—my Red Hand Death Troopers, the Nine-Tailed Fox's most hardened handlers, and a bind of anti-thaumaturgic seals wrapped around his wrists and throat. As soon as the ramp closed, I stepped aside and watched through the viewport as the shuttle lifted into the sky. That was the last I intended to see of James Anderson.
His mind—rotted, brilliant, and festering—would be O5-3's problem now. The Watcher's interrogators were precise to the point of cruelty. They would extract every scrap of information from the man before reducing him to nothing but a footnote in our archives.
"Good riddance," I murmured before turning toward my own shuttle.
The flight back to Site-999 was smoother. My Death Troopers relaxed slightly, helmets turning toward me now and then to check my state. They weren't programmed to worry, but they were loyal—to a degree beyond human comprehension. The kind of loyalty that comes when you are genetically built to protect someone.
I leaned back and exhaled slowly. The Factory, Anderson, the weapons built from agony… all of it still clung to me like dust.
But then the doors of Site-999 opened for us.
And everything inside me softened.
Because the first thing I saw was my daughter.
Luna—my little moonflower—rushed toward me down the polished corridor, her tiny feet pattering like staccato raindrops. Even with her power-suppressing bracelet keeping her reality bending confined to a single room at a time, faint ripples of pink, dreamlike energy shimmered around her whenever she got excited. Right now, she was practically glowing.
"Mommy!"
The sound of that word would've humbled gods.
I dropped to one knee and swept her into my arms, lifting her little body effortlessly. Her silver-white hair brushed against my cheek, soft as starlight, her tiny hands gripping my coat as though afraid I might vanish.
"There's my little moon," I whispered, kissing her forehead. "Were you good while I was gone?"
She nodded vigorously. "I drew things! And Uncle Orochi made me lunch! And I made my bracelet turn red again but it wasn't bad I promise—"
I laughed, a sound that only Luna ever heard from me. "You can tell me everything later. I missed you."
For a few minutes, nothing else mattered. Luna curled against me, humming a little tune she'd invented, one that somehow stayed on the edge of reality—half lullaby, half spell. Even the Death Troopers relaxed around her, as though her presence soothed every weapon in the room.
But eventually, duty called.
After settling Luna into her room with a stack of illustrated spellbooks and a gentle kiss to her hair, I went straight back to my primary laboratory.
The doors shut behind me with a heavy clang, sealing the research chamber in protective layers of Telekill shielding, runic reinforcement, and null-field barriers. Only three beings in existence could enter this place: me, Luna, and Julius.
And today… today was for creation.
A floating containment slab drifted toward me, carrying the Reality Stone—raw, burning red like crystallized blood. Even dormant, it pulsed with cosmic potential. With Infinity Stones, power wasn't the right word. They weren't power. They were concepts made manifest.
But while most people would use the Reality Stone like a grenade—throwing uncontrolled wishes into the universe—I had something different in mind.
"If I'm going to wield this," I muttered, "I'm going to do it with elegance."
To create something capable of safely channeling the Stone, I needed the strongest substances in existence. And thanks to the Foundation, Marvel tech, and a few extradimensional favors, I had them all.
On the primary workbench lay:
• A slab of Uru, glowing faintly gold—divine metal forged by gods• Sheets of Vibranium, humming with kinetic potential• Strands of Adamantium, unbreakable even by cosmic entities• A block of Telekill Alloy (SCP-148), absorbing psionic radiation like a vacuum• And runic chalk, sealing ink, quantum-flux clamps, Void crystal dust, and sealing matrices carved with both Fūinjutsu and Ars Thaumaturgica
I cracked my knuckles.
"Let's begin."
The forging process took days.
I melted the Uru and etched it with sealing runes from six different magical traditions. I layered Vibranium over the metaphysical seams, shaping it into a flowing circular pendant. Adamantium formed the internal lattice—harder than anything else in the universe—and Telekill Alloy made the amulet resist psychic corruption.
Hours turned to days. Days turned to a week. During that time, I saw Luna every morning and night, reading her stories, feeding her, letting her nap curled against my chest. She was the warmth that balanced the cold brilliance of creation.
But when I was in the lab, I was unstoppable.
Once the amulet frame was complete, I began the inscription ritual.
One ring of runes—Asgardian.Another—High Blood Fae.Below that—my own custom fusion of sealing techniques and magical theory.A fourth: alchemical sigils braided with ancient Mesopotamian star-binding glyphs.
The final inscription was in my own handwriting, written with a quill dipped in structured void-ink:
"Reality bends not to whim, but to will."
At last, after nine days of endless work, the amulet hovered before me—beautiful, elegant, swirling with power even without the Stone.
I lifted the containment slab.
The Reality Stone floated gently into my palm. For a moment, it tried to tug at my mind—tempting me with visions, possibilities, alternative worlds where my life had split into infinite branches.
"My will is stronger," I whispered.
I pressed the Stone into the amulet.
The lab shuddered. Light warped. Air turned into liquid for half a heartbeat. My sealwork flared crimson, gold, and violet. The walls resonated with the sound of reality humming like a symphony being tuned.
Then—
A soft chime.
The amulet settled against my chest, the chain shaping itself from Uru as though it were alive. It felt warm, comforting, like a heartbeat just below my own.
And power—pure, raw, cosmic power—flowed through me.
Not chaotic.Not overwhelming.Not a screaming infinity burning through my veins.
Perfectly controlled. Perfectly obedient.
The Reality Stone answered me like it had been made for me.
I smiled.
"I think this will do nicely."
And somewhere down the hall, sensing my joy, Luna giggled—her little voice echoing like a blessing through the entire site.