"What the hell is this supposed to be?"
Nick Fury stared at the muscular inmates standing around like personal bodyguards, his face filled with disbelief.
"It's nothing," Lucas replied lazily, lying on a bench with his head resting on a pillow made from seven or eight folded prison shirts.
"I knocked all of them down, so they made me the boss of the prison."
"Oh, fuck…" Fury's cheek twitched involuntarily.
That was more than five thousand inmates.
"How did you even do that?" Fury asked, unable to hide his shock.
"I honestly can't believe it."
"Just basic control over strength," Lucas said indifferently. "Nothing special."
Fury wasn't shocked that Lucas could fight thousands alone—he already knew that was possible.
What truly unsettled him was how precisely Lucas had controlled his power.
According to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s internal assessments, Lucas possessed enough raw strength to crush a main battle tank with a single punch.
If that kind of force were applied to ordinary humans without restraint, the result would be no different from smashing watermelons.
"Alright," Lucas said, cutting off the topic.
"Get to the point. What do you want?"
"It's about the Celestials you mentioned," Fury said, opening his laptop and pulling up data.
"So far, there's been no activity at all."
"Then you'd better pray it stays that way," Lucas replied with a faint smile.
"Oh, right," Fury added. "How's Tony Stark?"
"Relax. He's alive and well. My people are watching him," Lucas said, rolling over.
"Good," Fury nodded. "I figured you weren't in a rush to save him. Letting him suffer a bit might be good for his character."
Lucas suddenly sat up.
"Nick Fury, I'm not in the mood for small talk. If you don't say what you really came for, I won't stop them from escorting you out."
Under the gaze of more than a dozen towering inmates, Fury finally grew serious.
"Looks like I can't hide it from you," he admitted.
"Then tell me—why did you come to prison in the first place?"
"I've been thinking about it all night and still don't fully understand it. That's why I'm here."
Lucas dug a finger into his ear casually.
"If I said I'm waiting for someone, would you believe me?"
"Waiting for who?" Fury pressed.
"Several… and maybe not all of them are people," Lucas replied with an inscrutable smile.
Fury took a deep breath. "I don't like riddles."
"Oh," Lucas suddenly said, his smile fading.
"He's here."
Before Fury could even turn his head, everything around Lucas seemed to freeze.
Yet on closer inspection, nothing had truly stopped—
time itself had merely slowed to an extreme degree.
"I didn't expect you to be the first one to arrive," Lucas said calmly.
A voice—neither clearly male nor female—echoed from all directions.
"You were waiting for me?"
"You could say that," Lucas replied.
"Tiamut."
He looked toward the figure slowly approaching him—
a person wearing a Burberry-style trench coat, their face hidden beneath a shadowed hat.
"Then you already know why I came," Tiamut said.
"You're about to be born," Lucas said quietly.
"But your birth requires the entire Earth as a sacrifice. You think that's unfair, don't you?"
"Yes," Tiamut replied after a pause.
"In the thousands of years since I awakened to consciousness, I have witnessed humanity's rise and fall—its civilizations, cultures, and endless diversity."
He continued calmly,
"That is why I came to ask you for help. You know how to put me back into slumber."
Lucas's expression suddenly hardened.
"No. You're lying."
Tiamut fell silent.
"You don't want to be born, and you came to me," Lucas continued coldly,
"because someone told you something. Or showed you something. Am I right?"
He stared straight at Tiamut.
"And there's only one reason a Celestial like you would choose eternal slumber."
"Something worse than death."
"A future where no matter what choice you make, every path leads to annihilation—except sleep."
"Otherwise, to beings like you, human lives are no different from bacteria or ants. You wouldn't even glance at them."
"Am I wrong, Tiamut?"
Several seconds passed.
Finally, Tiamut spoke.
"You are very intelligent… human."
"Yes. I do not wish to be born—because I do not wish to die."
At that moment, everything became clear to Lucas.
Why did Earth harbor such a catastrophic threat, yet the universe seemed indifferent?
How could beings who saw the future remain unmoved?
There was only one explanation—
Everything had already been arranged.
"Someone spoke to you," Lucas said grimly.
"Or showed you the future, didn't they?"
"She said you would see through everything," Tiamut replied calmly.
"That no lie could deceive you."
"I've done what I came to do," he continued.
"It's time for me to leave."
"Before you go," Lucas asked, glancing around,
"tell me—how did you do all this?"
"Because this is the domain of consciousness."
With those words, Tiamut vanished.
In the next instant, time resumed its normal flow.
Everything returned to how it was.
"Who did you say came?"
Fury looked around in confusion, seeing no one nearby.
"He's already gone," Lucas said, lying back down.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Fury muttered, completely lost.
"One second someone arrives, the next he's gone?"
"Go back, Fury," Lucas said calmly, closing his eyes and basking in the sunlight again.
"When it's time for you to know, you'll know."
Fury frowned.
When had the so-called King of Spies ever felt this powerless?
Yet in front of Lucas, every trick and strategy felt utterly meaningless.
The only thing that could threaten him was the pager in Fury's pocket—
and that was something he would never use unless absolutely necessary.
In the end, Fury hesitated, then turned and left in silence.
---
About half an hour later, all the inmates had returned inside.
Only Lucas remained alone in the yard.
"He came to see you, didn't he?"
A spark of golden light appeared.
A glowing circular sigil formed half a meter from Lucas.
From it stepped a figure in simple white robes.
"That's right," Lucas said, sitting up.
"I figured you wouldn't be far behind."
He looked at the newcomer.
"Ancient One… or should I call you the Sorcerer Supreme?"
The Ancient One smiled gently.
"Lucas, it's our first meeting. I'm pleased to finally meet you."
Lucas shook his head.
"Sorry," he said calmly.
"I'm not pleased to see you at all, Sorcerer Supreme."
___
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