The dimensional space was dark and endless, as if it could swallow all light and sound.
In this silent world, a figure sat alone in the corner, his presence steeped in loneliness. It was Stephen Strange. His eyes were deep, brows furrowed with an unspeakable worry.
In stark contrast, another figure paced restlessly nearby, his iron armor gleaming with cold metallic sheen.
Beneath the steel mask, Tony Stark's eyes were just as troubled. His anxiety mirrored Strange's.
Though their actions differed, their moods were identical—both men burdened by the immense uncertainty of what was to come.
The atmosphere was frozen, the silence broken only by the soft grinding of Tony's armored boots against the floor and Strange's occasional sighs of deep contemplation.
Alex Ray stood silently to the side, observing the scene. He offered gently, "Don't worry. This is only my guess. It's not definite yet. Maybe I'm wrong."
His words, however, did little to ease the tension.
The two men didn't even glance in his direction.
Tony's gaze remained locked on the floating holographic projection before him. He and J.A.R.V.I.S. were digging furiously through every fragment of data on the Celestials, combing through the vast sea of cosmic knowledge in search of a solution to this looming threat.
Strange, meanwhile, hovered in the air in a meditative pose, hands forming a complex seal. The Time Stone embedded in his chest emitted a soft green glow, the energy of time flowing calmly around him.
What was strange—eerily so—was that his head began to twitch at an unnatural speed, like a flickering metronome, as though engaged in a silent conversation with time itself, striving to extract fragments of the future.
Alex Ray couldn't help but let out a low laugh at Strange's unsettling appearance, despite knowing the situation wasn't remotely funny.
It was just too bizarre. Seeing it in a movie in his previous life was one thing. Witnessing it in person? Absolutely surreal.
Of course, he could guess that Strange was attempting to peer into the future using the Time Stone.
But Alex didn't have high hopes.
After all, what could be said about their enemies this time?
There were numerous foes on par with Thanos—some even surpassing him.
Some of them could crush Time Stones with their bare hands. Observing the future through it was as useful as reading a broken compass.
Truth be told, even if Strange saw something through time…
It would probably be exactly what the enemy wanted them to see.
The Observers and Judges of the Celestial Host weren't fools.
Not to mention the worst-case scenario—Strange might accidentally alert the Five Great Gods, or worse, the Creator God himself.
They had all been searching for Alex.
And if that happened, those beings might just trace Strange through the time stream and attack him directly.
Still, Alex didn't stop him.
His instincts told him it was safe—for now.
If anything went wrong, he was ready to intervene. Worst case? A fight.
But nothing happened.
Eventually, Strange's body relaxed, slowly floating back to the ground.
Tony, having finished his analysis with J.A.R.V.I.S., was now watching Strange with open curiosity. He'd never seen anything quite like that head-spinning trance.
"What the hell was that?" Tony quipped. "Did you just give up on life and go full psychedelic?"
Strange slowly turned to face them. His normally alert, intelligent eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with exhaustion.
He forced a thin smile, but the bitterness in it weighed heavier than any humor.
He didn't answer Tony's jab directly. The truth was far too heavy to make light of.
His body, especially his mind, was spent.
Every attempt to peer into time exacted a monumental toll. It was like clawing through a storm with your bare hands.
His pale face was etched with fatigue, as if he'd just awoken from a hellish nightmare that refused to fade.
Even when Alex Ray had returned earlier, Strange had attempted to look into the future.
Back then, it was all chaos—a swirling fog of timelines, impossible to decipher.
But after hearing Alex's new intel, he'd tried again. And this time, he saw more.
Just fragments—but they were enough to terrify him.
Oddly, there were no clear images of the enemies Alex had described.
No matter how Strange adjusted his angle or refined his method, the end result never changed:
The Earth was destroyed.
That conclusion hit him like a hammer to the chest, crushing the breath from his lungs.
"What Alex said… is absolutely true," Strange muttered, voice low and strained. Despite its softness, his words were steeped in dread.
He understood what it meant: these beings, the ones he couldn't see, were beyond even his scope of perception. That feeling of helplessness was far more painful than any physical toll.
"I was just observing the future," Strange finally said aloud. His voice was hoarse, as if each word weighed a thousand pounds.
Tony's smile vanished.
"What did you see?" he asked, urgent and serious now.
Alex watched silently, just as curious.
Strange shook his head slowly.
"I saw… the destruction of Earth."
His words struck like thunder in that quiet space.
"I've observed over a billion possibilities—each branch, every ripple, every potential deviation. No matter what, no matter how we fight, how close we come… the Earth falls. Every time."
Strange's voice trembled with defeat.
Alex only gave a wry smile.
He had been prepared for this. He'd expected it.
But hearing it spoken aloud still felt like a dagger twisting in his gut.
Tony, on the other hand, looked devastated. He staggered back a few steps, disbelief plain on his face.
But then, as quickly as it hit, the shock faded. His mind kicked into overdrive, racing through the implications.
"Did we succeed?" he asked suddenly.
Even if the Earth was destroyed, perhaps they had still accomplished something.
Strange shook his head.
"I didn't see it. I only saw the result—the Earth's end. In some branches, we got close… terrifyingly close. But we failed in the end."
No one spoke for a long moment.
Alex finally broke the silence. "Well, look at the bright side—we didn't fail yet. And hey, you still have me. Don't lose hope."
Tony was deep in thought, processing every syllable.
"What kind of future nearly succeeded?" he asked, his voice carrying a strange hope. "Tell me the setup. The pattern. Maybe we can work from there."
Strange hesitated, then shook his head again.
"If I tell you too much, the future will shift. I can't risk contaminating the timeline. It's too unstable."
But then, as if reconsidering, he added quietly, "What I can tell you is this: the final battle… it happens in the New York."
His tone was deliberate, eyes sharp as he spoke those last two words.
Alex's expression darkened. He understood the implication.
Tony began muttering, "New York… New York…"
Then, his eyes fell on the dimensional space they were standing in—the version of Hell's Kitchen that Alex had forged.
His gaze snapped to Alex, wide-eyed.
"Alex Ray," Tony said, voice rising with excitement, "don't you think Hell's Kitchen is a bit… small?"
"What if," he continued, "we turn this dimension into the New York?"
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