A universe bloomed from a single point of light.
Within the silent, infinite canvas of potential, Ben and the Ancient One stood as silent witnesses. Wielding the Asgardian Infinity Gauntlet—Ben initiated the creation. The Space Stone, nestled in its setting, flared first, birthing an endless expanse from a single mote of dust.
Next, the counterfeit Reality Stone ignited, its borrowed power weaving the fabric of existence. Matter coalesced from raw energy; swirling nebulae of vibrant gas collapsed into incandescent stars, and molten rock cooled into planets that settled into silent, majestic orbits. The fake Soul Stone pulsed, imbuing the nascent dimension with the echo of life, a potential for consciousness. Then, the Power Stone thrummed, laying down the fundamental laws that would govern this new reality: gravity, magnetism, the strong and weak nuclear forces. Finally, the false Time Stone flickered, and the river of causality began to flow.
In what felt like a single, breathless moment, billions of years of cosmic evolution unfolded before them. The dimension, which Ben had already named Genesis, blossomed from nothingness into a stable, intricate cosmos.
When the final star settled into its place, the two observers slowly returned to themselves, the cosmic symphony still echoing in their minds. Ben flexed the fingers of his right hand, the gauntlet cool and heavy against his skin. He glanced down at the six stones. Two of them, the replicas of Reality and Soul, had gone dark, their borrowed energy expended. They were now nothing more than exquisitely cut, clear crystals.
Initially, Ben had planned to burn out all the fakes, but the Ancient One had counseled caution.
"Since we have the genuine one, we should use them," she had advised, her voice calm amidst the silent roar of creation. "The fakes may yet have their purpose. Keep them."
Following her guidance, she had cast a containment spell, sealing the energies within the three remaining replicas—Space, Time, and Mind—preventing their power from dissipating prematurely. Now, Ben carefully pried the true Time Stone from its setting on the gauntlet. It hovered just above his fingertips, a shimmering green jewel that seemed to exist just outside the grasp of physical touch.
"This belongs to you, Master Ancient One," Ben said, extending it to her. His respect for her was genuine; she had guided him, offered him wisdom, and now, helped him forge a universe.
Yet, she did not take it. With a slight shake of her head and a knowing, gentle smile, she instead reached out and plucked the fake Time Stone from its sealed state. "A precaution is always wise," she said, her eyes twinkling.
Ben stared, momentarily confused. "What are you doing?"
"Since time immemorial, the Sorcerer Supreme has been the sworn guardian of the Time Stone," she explained, her tone light but the meaning profound. "I doubt anyone would ever suspect I would entrust the genuine artifact to another. It is safer this way."
The weight of her words settled on him. The Ancient One was playing a long game. She was setting up a failsafe. If an enemy came seeking the Eye of Agamotto, even if they defeated her, they would only claim a clever duplicate. And in her hands, a fake with a single charge was just as effective as the real thing. There wasn't a dimensional entity foolish enough to test her for the eons it would take for the stone's power to matter.
A thought suddenly struck him. Wait. If she dies and Stephen Strange inherits the Eye of Agamotto, he won't be able to bargain with Dormammu. The fake can only be used once.
He sighed internally. It seemed this was his problem now. The Ancient One had passed the buck with the grace of a master. By accepting the stone, he was accepting the responsibility that came with it.
Fine, he thought, a grim smile touching his lips. Let Dormammu come. I'll just transform into Ghostfreak and drain his entire Dark Dimension. We'll see who the real lord of darkness is then. The power of an Ectonurite was amplified in darkness, and the Dark Dimension was the absolute form of that concept. Ben could scarcely imagine the level of power Ghostfreak could achieve there.
Seeing Ben accept the real Time Stone, the Ancient One allowed herself a small, relieved sigh. She had learned the maneuver from that wily old fox, Odin. Simply place the treasure in the hero's hands and trust them to handle the consequences. Besides, with Ben's influence, Earth's sorcerers would likely transition to wielding their own innate mana soon enough, becoming his followers in a sense. He would have no choice but to protect his own.
"In that case," she said, her smile returning, "let us begin stimulating the natural energy within your body."
And so, Kamar-Taj became home to the most spectacularly untalented student of the mystic arts in its long and storied history.
In a shadowed attic overlooking the training courtyard, Baron Mordo's brow was furrowed in a deep, judgmental scowl. He watched as Ben Parker stood awkwardly, holding a Sling Ring and staring at his empty hands as if willing a portal to appear through sheer force of will. Nothing happened.
"The Sorcerer Supreme claimed he could reshape the very nature of magic for all of us," Mordo muttered to himself, his voice a low growl of contempt. "And yet..."
From the moment Ben had first set foot in Kamar-Taj, the Ancient One had lavished him with praise that Mordo found utterly baffling. She spoke of his potential in hushed, reverent tones, even offering to abdicate her position as Sorcerer Supreme on the spot if Ben would only accept it.
The offer had stung Mordo deeply. As the Ancient One's eldest and most powerful disciple, he had always believed the title was his birthright. How could this outsider, this strange boy from Queens, possibly be worthy?
His indignation had only intensified when Ben had nonchalantly refused the offer, treating the most sacred title in the mystic arts as if it were a minor inconvenience. The disrespect was galling.
Now, a year later, the boy had returned, supposedly to learn magic. But the talent Ben displayed was… non-existent. Mordo had never witnessed such a profound lack of aptitude. It was so complete, he doubted Ben possessed even a single spark of magical potential.
"And I worried this boy would threaten my position," Mordo scoffed, shaking his head as a shadow of a different kind fell over his features. He glanced towards the Ancient One's chambers, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "How can a Sorcerer Supreme live for centuries? It defies the natural order."
He clenched his fists, the leather of his gloves creaking. He had begun to notice things, inconsistencies in the Ancient One's power, a lingering scent of something ancient and forbidden.
"Ancient One," he whispered to the empty air, the shadow around him seeming to deepen. "If you can secretly borrow the power of the Dark Dimension to extend your life, then so can I. And sooner or later, I will take the title of Sorcerer Supreme with my own two hands."
Unseen, he turned and melted back into the darkness, leaving Ben to his fruitless practice in the sunlit courtyard below. Ben, for his part, wasn't frustrated. He knew he could cast a spell the moment he picked up the Sling Ring, but that power would be borrowed, drawn from the myriad magical entities that now viewed his perfected human form as a prime vessel. The Ancient One had warned him that Chaos Magic, the Phoenix Force, and a dozen other cosmic powers were practically lining up to inhabit him.
That was the easy path. The path he had to avoid. What he needed was to suppress all that external noise and draw upon his own internal wellspring—his Mana. To go from zero to one was always the hardest step. It looked like he would be spending a lot of time in Kamar-Taj. Fortunately, he wasn't in a hurry. He could practice here during the day and have the Ancient One open a portal home for him at night.
Primus Tower was a different world.
Where once the building had been a silent, imposing monument patrolled by a single, terrifying Iron Guard robot, it was now a hive of activity. The robot was gone, replaced by a team of sharply dressed, blond-haired security guards who exuded an air of quiet professionalism. Employees with Primus ID badges clipped to their lapels bustled through the lobby, the scent of fresh coffee mingling with the low hum of innovation.
Today was a particularly busy one for the Human Resources department. Mary Jane Watson, dressed in a smart professional suit that made her look far older than a high school student, reviewed a stack of resumes. She was an intern now, learning the ropes of corporate management under the tutelage of Natasha Romanoff, who Ben had specially requested from H.A.M.M.E.R.
"Our interview docket is impressive," Natasha commented, tapping a manicured finger on a file. "Dr. Stephen Strange, Dr. Helen Cho... these are some of the most brilliant minds in their fields."
Mary Jane nodded, her eyes wide with admiration. "Dr. Strange is a world-renowned neurosurgeon. And Dr. Cho… her theoretical work on the regenerative cradle is revolutionary."
She leaned back in her chair, marveling at it all. "Primus was a ghost town just a few months ago. Now that we've finally opened for recruitment, we're attracting this level of talent."
"It's not surprising," Natasha said with a wry smile. "Everyone in the scientific community knows Primus is on par with Stark Industries—and frankly, has had a better track record lately. A position here means working at the absolute cutting edge of technology, across dozens of fields. Besides," she added, her smile widening, "your boyfriend pays exceedingly well."
She was right. Dr. Strange himself, for all his prestige, had applied after his hospital was forced to close during the reconstruction of New York. The unparalleled salary and research opportunities at Primus had been an irresistible lure. He and Dr. Cho were just two of many elite researchers who had met the company's exacting recruitment standards.