Thor slowly lowered his proud head.
His reverence for Cloud had, in this moment, transcended mere fear and reached something approaching religious devotion.
What he didn't know was this:
At that very moment, back at Stark Tower, Cloud had just let out a huge yawn and climbed out of the hot spring pool.
"Strange... why does it feel like something just poked me in the back?"
"Natasha, come here and check—did I get a pimple or something?"
...
The days of mooching off Stark Tower were pleasant for Cloud, if slightly boring.
His daily routine, aside from "training" Natasha—who was increasingly developing the air of a capable housewife—and tutoring Wanda—whose "creator god" potential was growing by the day—consisted mainly of tormenting Tony Stark.
For instance, when Tony was burning the midnight oil researching new energy materials for the Arc Reactor, Cloud would "accidentally" walk by.
Then, using the [Power of Orochi], he'd casually materialize a "mini energy core" with ten thousand times the purity of the Arc Reactor—and use it to charge his phone.
Or when Tony was showing off his latest remotely-operated Mark 42 armor to Pepper, Cloud would snap his fingers, and that sleek suit of armor would suddenly start performing Mai Shiranui's fan dance in mid-air—complete with the classic "Super Ninja Bee" pose.
After several such incidents, Tony Stark—the once-invincible genius billionaire—developed a severe case of "Cloud PTSD." The moment he spotted Cloud, he'd instinctively clutch whatever invention he was working on, terrified that his labor of love would become some bizarre toy.
Cloud found this "chaotic domestic comedy" quite entertaining.
But as a "Sovereign," the blood of troublemaking still flowed through his veins.
This kind of peaceful life, if it went on too long, felt like something was missing.
And stimulation soon delivered itself to his doorstep.
...
One day, Cloud was lounging in the rooftop hot spring, sipping grape juice that Wanda had ripened using chaos magic, while his omnipresent divine sense surveyed interesting events happening across the globe.
He observed a mysterious sanctuary in the Himalayas—Kamar-Taj—where a middle-aged man with a small mustache, formerly a world-class neurosurgeon, sat cross-legged, attempting his first astral projection meditation.
This man's name was Stephen Strange.
A chosen one who, after a car accident destroyed his hands, stumbled into the world of magic while searching for a cure.
Under the guidance of his teacher—the Ancient One—Strange's soul separated from his body for the first time, beginning a brief journey through the vast multiverse.
However, as a "novice driver," he clearly didn't realize that on the "highway" of the multiverse, you can't just "roll down the windows" whenever you like.
Just as his soul drifted ethereally through one bizarre dimension after another—
A cold will, filled with hunger and the desire for destruction, instantly locked onto him!
"Hmm? A fresh soul from the mortal dimension?"
A voice echoed on the spiritual plane, dripping with greed.
The next second, countless purple tentacles formed of dark energy extended from a dimension filled with twisted geometry and eerie colors, like a massive spider's web, instantly ensnaring Strange's completely defenseless soul!
"Aaaaahhh—!"
Strange's soul let out a silent scream!
He felt himself being dragged by an irresistible force toward an abyss of despair and darkness!
"Let me go! What are you?!"
"Me? I am your end! I am the devourer of all!" The grand voice laughed triumphantly. "I am Dormammu!"
Dormammu—Lord of the Dark Dimension!
He'd been searching for coordinates to invade the mortal dimension, and here was a "little lamb" delivering itself to his door!
Once he consumed this soul, he could trace that "connection" and extend his dark domain into that life-energy-rich mortal dimension he'd coveted for so long!
Just as Dormammu was preparing to enjoy his "appetizer"—
Stark Tower, hot spring pool.
Cloud suddenly stopped drinking his grape juice.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Hmm? That spatial fluctuation is interesting."
Through his previous resonance with the Space Stone, he had gained considerable understanding of this universe's spatial laws.
He could clearly sense that a foreign law, not belonging to this dimension, was attempting to invade Earth's spatial barriers like a virus.
And the invasion's coordinates appeared to be somewhere in the Himalayas.
"A guy who likes eating dimensions?" Cloud's face broke into an interested smile. "Sounds like he's in the same line of work as our hometown's gourmet, Otoma=Raga."
"I've been getting a bit restless lately anyway. Let's go meet him and see if his dishes are tough enough to chew."
He waved at Wanda and Natasha beside him.
"I'm stepping out to buy some cigarettes."
Without even changing clothes, still wearing his bathrobe and flip-flops, he casually traced a line through empty air.
RIIIP—!
Space tore open like fragile canvas, revealing a rift crackling with void energy!
Ten thousand times more stable and efficient than the wormhole Loki had opened with the Tesseract!
Then, under the now-unsurprised gazes of Natasha and Wanda, he stepped through.
...
The Dark Dimension.
A mad world without time, without logic—only eternal chaos and the frenzy of consumption.
Dormammu's "face"—composed of countless planets and dimensional remnants he had devoured—floated in the void, admiring his prey.
Strange's soul, bound like a dumpling by purple energy tentacles, was letting out desperate wails.
...
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