A smile as fleeting as a flower, yet radiant as eternity.
When Hawk saw the Ancient One, serene and transcendent, with that faint smile, for a heartbeat he thought he was staring at a Buddha.
A being called the closest thing to a god.
The only difference—
That was a man.
This one—a woman.
…Well, gender wasn't the point.
Hawk blinked rapidly, shook off the illusion, and looked again.
The Ancient One had already stepped down from that untouchable, otherworldly state.
Hawk opened his mouth.
"How is this possible?"
"Standing atop the tides of time, one can see both the past and the future. With the Time Stone, the future is clearer than the past."
Her tone was calm, her gaze steady. "And it's easier than borrowing from Dormammu. Borrowing from him always comes due. Borrowing from your own future self… that's effortless. And it never has to be repaid."
Hawk steadied himself from his initial shock.
Yes, he'd already prepared himself for the cost of using the Time Stone.
Her brief display had merely shown him a glimpse of power he hadn't yet reached.
"So… does that mean my future self succeeds?"
"Cannot say."
"Uh…"
"No cheating."
"But you cheated."
"Yes."
Her answer was simple, her expression tranquil, her honesty disarming. "But I'm irrelevant. My choices won't alter the outcome. I accept all futures—just as Odin does."
The high-road phrasing: calm acceptance.
The blunt version: resignation.
Odin had foreseen Ragnarok, its cause, course, and conclusion—yet he never moved to prevent it. He accepted it. Faced it.
That wasn't Hawk's way.
His creed was etched not in his bones, but in the very depths of his soul:
My fate is mine to decide.
Even against the impossible, he would fight.
That was why the Ancient One said nothing more.
And Hawk understood her silence for what it was.
You won't tell me? Fine. I'll look for myself.
He glanced at the Eye of Agamotto in his hands, then at her serene figure.
Her look seemed to say: I know what you're thinking, but I won't stop you. Show me.
Hawk drew a deep breath.
Time Stone… open for me.
Emerald brilliance burst forth, flooding over him like a tidal wave.
At once, Hawk was cast into the river of time.
But he hadn't yet touched the Seventh Sense, much less the Tenth—the beginning and the end, the source of all. In the current, he was no more than a fragile skiff tossed on an endless stormy sea.
The currents split, multiplied—countless branches impossible to number.
In a flash, Hawk abandoned the idea of peering into his future. Instead, he pulled himself into his own Microcosm.
Wrapped in green light, his presence entered—and with a single thought, the cosmos within him transformed.
Grains of dust formed across every corner, drawn together by earth's essence.
Colliding, ignited by fire, they became magma.
Winds stoked the flames.
Stars were born, countless pinpricks of light filling the dark.
Time's blessing sped it all forward.
But as Hawk pushed to the brink, a wave of exhaustion struck—not of body, not of soul, but of mind.
The Phoenix Heart stirred, warning him: his psyche had reached its limit. Press further, and it would shatter.
He pulled back instantly.
Cheating was exhilarating.
Getting caught was ruinous.
This much was enough. What might've taken decades of cultivation, he'd skipped in moments.
Not yet a sky full of stars, but far from barren.
And later—when his mind was stronger—he could cheat again.
Cheat once, thrill once.
Cheat forever, thrill forever.
He'd already bent reality with the Reality Stone. Now time with the Time Stone.
And his thoughts turned to the next shortcut: the Mind Stone.
If the Sixth Sense was initiation, the Seventh was the true threshold.
The Soul, the Heart, the Life—fused as one. That was a Gold Saint.
The Mind Stone could bridge him there faster than any training.
He even knew where it was now—likely in Hydra's hands.
A phone call to Anna. A "loan."
Or, if Hydra hesitated, he could pay them a personal visit.
Hawk smirked.
For now, his focus shifted back to his forming Underworld.
High above the embryonic realm, emerald light streamed down like rain, flooding it with accelerated growth.
The shard of life-and-death law he'd seized from Blackheart was consumed in an instant, fusing with the core.
Darkness surged like a living tide, spreading through the land.
The ground heaved, fractured, reformed, over and over.
From deep beneath, strange crystals emerged—black as obsidian, yet gleaming with a metallic sheen.
And on the surface, too, they spread.
The treasures of the Underworld—
Nether Crystals.
Forged into Cloth, they became Surplices. Armors rivaling the Gold Cloths of the Zodiac.
Not quite equal, but close enough.
And with one key advantage—
Even with only the Sixth Sense, wearing a Surplice granted freedom to walk between life and death.
Hawk gazed down at his newborn realm.
Yes. It was time for his Underworld to rise.
…
(End of Chapter)
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