Luke dropped altitude fast, landing lightly on the cracked remains of a rooftop.
The city below wasn't a city so much as a ruin — walls blown open, streets torn up, the whole place carrying the look of a place long left to rot. A slum that had seen too many conflicts and too few survivors.
But that wasn't what made his heartbeat spike.
It was the mana— thick, wild, unstable — flooding the air like a storm waiting to explode.
He followed the pulse to the center of the district… and froze.
Literally everything in front of him was frozen.
Not ice.
Reality.
Fire hung motionless in the air like painted flames. Debris floated in place. Even smoke behaved as if sculpted, unmoving. Soldiers stood mid-step, guns raised, their bodies caught between motion and stillness.
Luke exhaled slowly.
"…Reality is stopped."
It wasn't a guess.
It was the only explanation.
He stepped closer, the distortion humming against his skin, and then he saw them — two figures at the center of the storm.
A young man stood frozen, unsure what he was even looking at.
Opposite him, a young woman braced herself as red light flooded her eyes, her whole body trembling while power tore out of her in a violent, uncontrolled rush.
Her red coat snapped in the wind of her own magic, long brown hair whipping around her as raw energy poured from her like she couldn't stop it even if she tried.
Luke's eyes widened.
"Wanda…?"
There was no mistaking her. Wanda Maximoff. Scarlett Witch. But not the version he expected. Not the slow-burn evolution of the MCU where her powers grew over years of suffering and training.
This Wanda had awakened Chaos Magic outright.
The real thing.
Reality-bending, world-warping, ancient and terrifying.
And far—far—too strong for 2012.
Luke scanned the scene again to be absolutely sure.
Reality frozen.
Magic overflowing uncontrollably.
Two terrified civilians in the center.
And surrounding them—soldiers, mid-action, guns aimed at the twins.
Luke sighed, rubbing his temples.
"…Yeah. Figures."
This had all the ingredients:
— two young siblings,
— a hostile military force closing in,
— fear, trauma, desperation…
Put that together, and Chaos Magic didn't awaken gently.
It erupted.
"Ummm… Wanda, what is happening?" Pietro asked, voice shaking as he tried to inch closer without triggering another burst.
Wanda didn't answer.
She couldn't.
Her breath hitched, eyes glowing brighter, fingers curled as if she were trying—and failing—to hold something back.
A figure dropped from above, landing lightly on the shattered pavement.
Blue light clung to him like liquid, rippling off his body before fading.
Pietro instantly moved in front of Wanda, arms spread protectively.
"Who are you?" he demanded, eyes darting between Luke and the swirling chaos around his sister.
Luke raised an eyebrow.
"Do you seriously want introductions right now," he asked calmly, "or do you want help for your sister?"
"You can help my sister?" Pietro asked, suspicion sharp in his eyes.
Given where they lived — a broken corner of Sokovia with no real government, no protection, no law — he had to be suspicious.
Outsiders never came here to help. And right now, his sister was in the middle of something terrifying, something neither of them understood.
If this stranger wanted to take Wanda… Pietro would fight until his last breath.
Luke saw all of that in the boy's stance.
"Yes," he said firmly. "Now step aside before she loses full control and destroys herself — and everything around her."
His tone left no room for argument. Chaos magic wasn't some light show.
In the Marvel Multiverse, Chaos Magic was the kind of power that could rewrite existence, shatter reality, or collapse a universe if misused. If Wanda stayed in this state too long, her body wouldn't survive it.
Pietro hesitated… then stepped aside, jaw clenched.
Luke exhaled once and released his limiter.
Mana erupted from him like a detonating star.
A massive blue pillar shot upward from his body, blasting straight into the sky. The shockwave rippled across the frozen reality field, swallowing Wanda's chaotic red surge and pushing it flat with overwhelming force.
In a place like this, where logic had broken and reality warped—
Only raw overpowering force could stabilize it.
The blue energy roared louder, pressing harder and harder against the raging red surge.
Chaos Magic fought back violently, lashing out like a wild beast, but Luke pushed through it, raising his hand and forcing the storm to contract.
Bit by bit, the red waves recoiled.
Then, with a final shove of mana that cracked the air—
FWOOOM—
The Chaos Magic collapsed inward in a blinding flash.
All the power snapped back into Wanda's body like a detonated reality rewinding itself. The shockwave blew outward harmlessly. Wanda's eyes rolled back, her knees buckling.
She lost consciousness instantly.
Luke blurred forward, catching her before she hit the ground, lifting her easily into a princess carry. Up close, he noticed
She was beautiful, with a good figure—just as expected from one of the top beauties of the MCU. He hadn't expected to meet her this early.
Pietro rushed forward, panic in his voice. "Is my sister okay?!"
"For now," Luke said. "I suppressed the power, but I have no idea when it'll erupt again."
As the frozen reality field dissolved, everything resumed. Flames moved again. Air stirred. And every Hydra soldier who had surrounded them now found their weapons aimed squarely at the trio.
"Surrender or die!" one soldier shouted. They still didn't know where Luke came from, but Wanda—oh, she was definitely a prize their labs would dissect.
Luke raised a brow.
"Let me guess… Hydra."
Since this was Sokovia—where Hydra was rampant—he was ninety percent sure these guys were Hydra.
"How do you know!?" a soldier snapped back.
Luke smiled.
"Perfect. That's exactly the answer I wanted."
He glanced at Pietro. "You should close your eyes. Next scene is bloody."
Pietro didn't argue—one look at Luke's face was enough. He shut his eyes immediately.
The Hydra soldiers sensed it a heartbeat too late. A pressure crawled under their skin, like their bodies were being squeezed from the inside.
Then—
POP.
The first man's chest exploded outward, ribs snapping apart as blood and meat sprayed across the rubble.
POP.
Another soldier burst at the waist, his upper body flying back while his legs collapsed a second later.
POP.
A third didn't even scream—his head vanished in a wet detonation, crimson mist painting the broken wall behind him.
Panic erupted. A few tried to run.
They made it two—maybe three—steps before their bodies detonated mid-motion. Arms, torsos, and organs rained down onto the cracked street, blood pooling fast between the stones.
The smell hit next. Iron. Burnt flesh. Death.
Less than five seconds later—
Only gore remained.
Hydra no longer existed on that street.
*****
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