"System, if I want to extract Chaos Magic, how many points do I need?"
Money. That was the only thing on Leo's mind right now.
[Host, the Scarlet Witch possesses two abilities. Or rather, her power comes from her mutant ability to manipulate probability fused with the Chaos Magic of the Elder God Chthon. That fusion is what created the Scarlet Witch.]
[Therefore, extracting such a powerful ability requires five million points per attempt. Whether the host obtains probability manipulation, Chaos Magic, or a perfect fusion depends entirely on luck.]
Leo froze. "Five million per try… that expensive?!"
Three possible results, five million each. If luck was bad, it could take up to fifteen million just to get what Wanda naturally possessed.
If extracting Chaos Magic was already that pricey… what about something like the Phoenix Force? That would probably cost an astronomical amount.
He'd just been over the moon about receiving ten million points. Now, it didn't feel like much at all.
There were countless abilities, technologies, and resources in this universe, all requiring points.
Leo sighed. A man's points are like bullets. If you don't have enough bullets, the gun's useless when it matters.
Instead of overthinking, Leo decided to focus on what was in front of him.
His hands tightened around the two soft, warm "pillows" in his arms, savoring the moment. Whatever came next, he'd make sure to enjoy the present.
That night, not only did Leo and Wanda barely rest, but the whole of New York was far from peaceful.
Under the cover of darkness, currents surged. Many forces stayed awake, making their next move.
Obadiah Stane's Fury
Obadiah Stane—Tony Stark's so-called good uncle and the true mastermind behind the kidnapping—was in a rage.
"Tony! Tony! You really are too lucky!" he hissed through clenched teeth as he smashed everything in sight.
His original plan had been flawless. But the Ten Rings had disobeyed him again and again—refusing to kill Tony and demanding more money every time.
More money. Always more money.
And worst of all, Tony had returned to New York alive.
Lighting a cigar, Obadiah calmed himself, plotting his next steps. Howard Stark had always overshadowed him, and now Tony dared to do the same. That couldn't be tolerated.
Like a young emperor killing his generals to secure the throne… Obadiah thought coldly. Better to act first than regret later.
His phone rang sharply.
"Hello," he growled.
"B-Boss," his subordinate stammered on the other end, "our people checked the cave where Tony was held. There's a full set of Iron Armor left behind. It looks like Tony planned to escape in it but didn't use it.
"We believe that Asian kid who came back with him helped him escape. We've already arranged for the armor to be smuggled to the U.S."
Obadiah's lips curled. "Good. Wait for my instructions."
Hanging up, his expression turned sinister.
"Tony… you got lucky this time. But next time, don't blame your uncle."
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters
At that time, it was still called the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division—the name Nick Fury hated most.
Agent Maria Hill entered the office, her heels clicking against the floor. She handed Fury a thin file.
"Director, this is the information you requested. Unfortunately, there's almost nothing on him."
Nick Fury flipped the file open. A few photos. Barely a few lines of data.
His one eye narrowed. "What the hell? Did this kid crawl out of a rock?"
Hill's face remained calm. "We ran a global search. There's no data on this young Asian man. It's like he doesn't exist."
"Did you check with the Spear Agency?" Fury asked quickly.
"I did. They also came up empty."
That was enough to make Nick Fury tense. If even the Spear Agency had nothing, this wasn't simple.
An unknown man showing up right next to Tony Stark—the biggest arms dealer on the planet? That screamed problem.
Fury snatched up the phone on his desk and dialed.
A lazy, irritated voice answered, "Do you have any idea how important beauty sleep is for a woman?"
Fury's temple twitched. Of course it had to be her.
"Natasha, it's me. Nick Fury. I have a mission for you. I need you to get close to someone and dig up everything you can."
"Yeah, yeah. Annoying as always," she grumbled—then hung up.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Fury stared at the receiver, expression darker than charcoal. "Motherf—! Has no one taught her basic respect for her superior?!"
Maria Hill covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. Seeing Fury—the infamous motormouth—get roasted was rare entertainment.
This woman has no manners at all, Fury thought bitterly. Natasha Romanoff… where is your damn quality?!