The Sefirah Castle fell silent. Tony, T'Challa, and Wanda were gone, their souls snapped back into the physical shells waiting for them in the world of matter. Only I remained, the gray fog swirling around the base of the throne like a loyal hound.
I leaned back, feeling the weight of the "Authority" I now held. It was time to settle my own accounts. I summoned the System interface.
[ABILITY CONFIRMED: MAGNETISM — OMEGA CLASS]
PRICE: 20,000,000,000
This was sovereignty over the electromagnetic spectrum—the force that holds atoms together. Light, radiation, and the very pulse of planets were now within my grasp.
[ABILITY CONFIRMED: PRECOGNITION — OMEGA CLASS]
PRICE: 15,000,000,000
The map of all possible futures unfolded. I saw every branch, every dead end, and every shortcut across
the multiverse.
[PURCHASE CONFIRMED: RED QUEEN AI — ABSOLUTE LOYALTY]
PRICE: 1,000,000,000
A digital goddess to manage my empire, her core logic rewritten to ensure her soul belonged to me alone.
* Bullet Time (Alpha): 10,000,000(real price) - 100,000,000 (Beta) (member's price)
* Eye Boy (Gamma): 1,000,000(real price) - 10,000,000 (Gamma) (member's price)
* High-Speed Regeneration (Beta): 100,000,000 (Owned) -1,000,000,000 (Gamma) (member's price)
First, my senses shattered. Eye Boy (Gamma Level) fused with Magnetism (Omega Level). I saw the fundamental forces holding the atoms of the pillars together. My vision expanded beyond the light spectrum into the very fabric of electromagnetism. I saw the magnetic flux lines of the Castle, the invisible currents of the void, and the radio-frequency whispers of distant stars.
With a flick of my wrist, I manipulated the Lorentz force to restructure the air around me into a solid localized field. I could feel the spin of every electron within miles. I was the master of the force that defines solid matter.
Then, my mind accelerated. Bullet Time (Alpha Level) provided the neural processing speed, but Precognition (Omega Level) gave that speed a purpose.
The "Now" vanished. In its place was a crystalline, branching tree of causality. I saw ten thousand years of futures as clearly as if they were memories. I saw the fall of empires, the birth of stars, and the exact moment Tony Stark would first fire his repulsors. Because my perception was no longer linear, I could stand still for a century in my mind, calculating every variable of the Umbrella Gala, while my physical body hadn't even finished a single breath.
"Time is a suggestion," I whispered, "And the world is just a set of rules I've finally learned to rewrite."
I spent what felt like years within that single second of "Castle Time," mastering the nuances of the Omega-level fields and the shifting tides of the future. By the time I decided to return to reality, I was the fixed point around which the rest of the world would now revolve.
With a final thought, I share the "packages" to Tony and T'Challa. This wasn't just their primary abilities; I ensured both received the Apex Survivor Suite, granting them High-Speed Regeneration (Gamma Level) for biological immortality, Bullet Time (Beta Level) for neural combat acceleration, and Eye Boy (Delta Level) for full-spectrum sensory perception.
I imposed a strict ten-meter domain limit on Tony's Alpha level Magnetism and anchored a Beta-level echo of Precognition to T'Challa's consciousness.
I stepped out of the void.
——-
Tony Stark snapped back to reality in the center of his Malibu workshop. For a heartbeat, there was only the familiar scent of ionized ozone and aerosolized machine oil. Then, the "unboxing" initiated, and the sensory input recalibrated his entire neurological baseline.
Eye Boy shifted his perception into a multi-spectral overlay. Tony stumbled, his breath hitching as the workshop walls lost their opacity. His optic nerves began processing the high-frequency hum of copper wiring as a visible current, while the structural steel beams within the concrete glowed with high-density signatures.
"JARVIS... confirm my occipital lobe isn't misfiring," Tony whispered, staring through his own skin to the calcium-dense structure of his carpals. "Because I'm currently looking at my own skeletal system in real-time X-ray backscatter."
"Sir, your biometrics are... statistically impossible," the AI replied.
Then, the Regeneration protocol surged. In his disorientation, Tony swiped his forearm against a jagged shard of high-carbon scrap. A deep laceration opened, exposing dermal layers, but the expected inflammatory response never arrived. Instead, he watched with clinical fascination as the wound "hissed"—a rapid-onset cellular mitogenesis. The edges of the gash knit together via a silver-white bioluminescent lattice, the tissue achieving full structural closure and re-epithelialization in under five seconds.
"Okay. That's not just healing," Tony laughed, his voice ragged with adrenaline. "That's a localized acceleration of the Hayflick limit. Absolute biological efficiency."
Finally, he felt the Magnetism anchor. Within a ten-meter radius, the workshop was a localized domain under his kinetic authority. He sensed the specific magnetic flux and paramagnetic properties of every alloy.
He raised a hand, and a chrome-vanadium wrench ascended, locked in a frictionless gyroscopic loop. He flicked his fingers, manipulating the internal Lorentz forces of a nearby steel plate until the metal folded with the mathematical precision of origami, overcoming its own tensile strength without a single mechanical press.
"JARVIS, purge the last six hundred seconds of internal surveillance. De-authorize Obadiah's credentials. Total administrative lockout. Now."
"Yes sir, but the metallic objects in the room are manifesting anomalous gravitational—"
"It's not gravity, JARVIS. It's a field-level realignment," Tony corrected, a predatory grin forming as he watched a floating screwdriver align perfectly with the Earth's magnetic North. "And they are obeying."
——-
In the quiet sanctity of the royal chambers, T'Challa stood before his father, the very atmosphere of Wakanda feeling fundamentally altered. The Bullet Time enhancement had recalibrated his synaptic firing rate; time just dilated. He watched the wings of a sunbird outside the window, its rapid oscillations now as distinct as the slow stroke of a distant drum, and the dust motes in the air hung like fixed constellations.
Then, the Precognition surged. A temporal ghost of T'Chaka materialized in his mind's eye, stepping forward to speak a truth yet unspoken. Two seconds later, the reality merged with the vision.
"You will be looking after Wakanda soon," T'Chaka said, his voice a perfect acoustic mirror of the precognitive echo. "I am tired."
Through the Eye Boy multi-spectral overlay, T'Challa saw the pathology of leadership. He traced the microscopic arterial stresses and the calcification of the king's joints—weariness that was invisible to the naked eye but laid bare in infrared and X-ray. He felt his own Regeneration humming in the background, a cellular resilience that made him feel as immovable as the vibranium foundations of the city itself.
"Baba," T'Challa said, "Walk with me. We must speak of the future, and the shields we must build."
As the vibranium doors hissed shut, T'Chaka looked at his son, his eyes narrowing. "Your stride is different. The air around you... it has settled. Have you acquired any supernatural powers as well?"
"I have, Baba," T'Challa replied, "The Castle has provided a suite of survival protocols. I see the world now as a series of probabilities and spectrums. I saw your words before you spoke them."
T'Chaka paced the length of the room, his hands behind his back. "Being King is not merely about strength, T'Challa. It is about continuity. I am ready to hand you the mantle, but the world is growing louder. If this Sefirah Castle truly offers such 'Authority,' we must be strategic. What else can we pull from that fog to make our nation an island that no tide can wash away?"
"We need more than just individual power," T'Challa said, his mind already calculating the next tier of the Castle's offerings. "I have seen a path toward Precognition at an Omega level. If the throne can see the shadow of every threat before it crosses our border, we would never need to shed a drop of Wakandan blood. And Stark... he is pursuing Magnetism. If we can secure similar fundamental authorities, we can weave those powers into our vibranium tech."
T'Chaka stopped, looking deeply at his son. "You speak of turning the King into a god of the state."
"I speak of making the King a guarantee," T'Challa corrected. "The world thinks we are an agricultural nation, a secret to be kept. But the secrets are being found out. I intend to use the Castle to buy Wakanda the one thing no army can conquer: Certainty."
T'Chaka nodded, a grim satisfaction on his face. "Then we shall not be cautious with our gold. If the merchants of that Castle sell the power to preserve our people, we will buy every drop they have."
—————
When I opened my eyes, the world rushed back in a golden tide, and I found Wanda's gaze meeting mine at that very heartbeat, as if our souls had shared the same rhythmic return from the infinite. Time had lingered for us—a gift of my own silent decree—allowing a fleeting, breathless second where the rest of the universe simply ceased to be.
"Have the others truly departed?" she whispered, her eyes fluttering like a bird seeking its nest as she adjusted to the quiet intimacy of the room.
"Indeed," I replied, a soft smile playing on my lips. "It seems we are the solitary inhabitants of this hour."
She leaned back with a sigh that spoke of a mind heavy with wonders. "My thoughts are quite overwhelming; it is a profound weight to carry in a single sitting."
"I feel much the same," I murmured, leaning toward her. "As though I have studied for a great trial I never expected to face."
A playful spark lit her features. "And did you emerge victorious?"
"By a narrow margin," I confessed, "I have learned much of the world, Wanda... but even more of the things that truly matter."
We sat in a shared silence, the mundane sounds of the afternoon filtering through the windows like a distant memory. She tilted her head with a grace that caught my breath. "Tell me, have you neglected your midday meal?"
"I have," I admitted.
"You skipped it?" Her brows rose in gentle reproach.
"You are a fine one to chide me," I countered, my eyes lingering on hers. "Did you find the time to eat?"
She hesitated, a soft flush touching her cheeks. "Not... precisely."
"Unbelievable," I sighed, though my gaze was anything but stern. "You preach the virtues of responsibility, yet you ignore the very essence of your own well-being."
She laughed, a sound like silver bells in the quiet hall. "I was occupied with our work."
"The work is grand," I said, reaching out to close the distance between us, "but your health is far more precious to me than any labor. Especially yours."
The air grew still as she searched my eyes, her voice a mere breath. "Is it your duty to care for me?"
"It is the only description of my heart's work," I answered.
"And what title do you give this labor?" she asked softly.
I rose and extended my hand, an invitation and a vow all at once. "The one where I lead you away from this exhaustion and toward a table set for two, before your strength fails you."
She looked at my hand, then up at me, a smile of radiant amusement breaking across her face. As she placed her hand in mine, the touch sent a jolt through the quiet air.
"Very well," she relented, rising to stand beside me. "But if the fare is wretched, the fault lies entirely with you."
"A fair bargain," I whispered, drawing her hand toward my arm. "But if it is divine, you must admit that my heart was right."
She laughed softly as we walked toward the door, her side pressing gently against mine. "We shall see, sir. We shall see."
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