Chapter 73: France's Second...
Ancient One's POV
"Fascinating." That's the least I can say about this energy. After receiving a small fragment from Hela, I found myself able to produce it on my own—at least, as long as the part she shared with me still exists.
It feels like a tiny flame, and I am the oil. I merely need to keep feeding it, and the flame grows stronger, brighter, more intense.
The only problem is that, much like our mystical arts, there are mechanisms—certain spiritual procedures—that must be undertaken to use this energy correctly.
And unlike the mystic arts, which have been passed down and refined over thousands of years by millions of sages, I know next to nothing about this energy.
I can only try to use it instinctively. I closed my eyes, yet with my mind's eye, I observed everything happening inside my body.
The first thing that became clear to me was that I had stopped generating the energy. It was as if there were a cap, a natural limit to how much a person could increase it.
I am certain of this because it's far from the limit of what my body can endure or produce.
It feels more like a type of energy that isn't meant to be generated at all—but rather, something that already exists and simply needs to be absorbed. I could only sigh. One must not be greedy, but learn to be content with what one has.
Following Hela's example, I manifested this raw energy in my palm. Strangely, it was golden in color, quite unlike the green hue it had when Hela transferred it to me.
This confirmed what I suspected—the energy had adapted to my spirituality. Different people will likely have different manifestations of this power, depending entirely on their inner nature.
I could feel that the dominant attributes in this golden energy were Time and Space. These were the strongest. Other aspects were present as well—less forceful, but deeply conceptual. Things like Life, Absorption... even Patience.
That's not to say they exist separately. No—these qualities are fused together, forming a unified attribute, a singular and coherent identity. If I were to create a spell using this energy, that attribute would shape it, making it at once unfamiliar and yet distinct.
I decided to try the simplest, most direct way of using this energy. I allowed it to cover my body—wrapping around me entirely—to see what effect it might have.
The moment I did this, the Mirror Dimension collapsed.
And I understood why.
I hadn't considered it beforehand. I quickly dispersed the golden energy and reactivated the Mirror Dimension. But in that brief window of time, several powerful beings sensed my presence—Jean Grey, Magneto, and even the daughter of Galactus. To them, I offered only a faint smile before disappearing once again.
What had happened was that during the time I was surrounded by the golden energy, I became utterly disconnected from time, space, life… and many other fundamental forces.
Though it lasted for less than two seconds, the impact was astonishing.
The proof is that had I lingered for just four seconds longer, I would most likely have died.
Of course, the Mirror Dimension's disappearance was caused by the same phenomenon. While I was enveloped in the golden energy, everything that sustains me—whether energy from the Dark Dimension, the blessings of the Vishanti, or other sources—was completely cut off.
Regrettably, this short-lived experiment consumed nearly nine-tenths of the mysterious energy I possessed.
But despite the cost, what I learned in that moment was invaluable. It's indeed like I thought: the fact that no one can see the future nor travel to the past has something to do with Hela.
That the unknown energy she obtained was indeed not from this universe and that it's extremely compatible with humans, and they can use it as long as they are compatible—without any other secondary requirements.
The Ancient One felt more at peace knowing everything. She sat down to concentrate, trying to see if she could replenish the energy she had used earlier, not even thinking about Hela's offer, as it's something she would consider later.
But of course, not everyone is like her—being content with what they have and not looking frantically for more powers.
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At the very least, Hela—despite already being powerful enough to make Odin wet his royal bedsheets—was still hungry for more power.
Why? Because she knew the cold truth of the Marvel Universe from an outsider's perspective: no matter how strong you are, there's always some cosmic lizard, angry raccoon, or bald celestial benching planets while giving monologues about destiny.
Unless you're stronger than the One Above All himself—and good luck even making eye contact with that guy—you're basically just an overqualified punching bag with a cool costume.
So, two years had passed since she began her little sabbatical in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber (aka the universe's sweatiest gym), and she knew it was exactly two days outside because she just got her second reward.
And unfortunately, this one was the kind of loot drop that could give Odin a cardiac event so violent even Valhalla would reject him at the door.
[Day Four Hundred and Three – 1,000 tons of Uru Metal.]
Yup. Hela now owned enough Uru to make the entire dwarven forge union go on strike.
If Odin ever found out his darling daughter was hoarding a literal mountain of god-metal, he'd stop sleeping altogether—until Hela personally tucked him in for eternity.
Just picturing a mini-army of 10,000 Mutants and Humans from Hel wielding their own Mjolnir knockoffs, led by officers piloting Destroyer armor and swinging Gungnir like glorified traffic cones? Yeah. That mental image alone would have Thanos sliding into her DMs with "💀💀💀 ur beauty destroys me 💀❤️."
Not that she wanted Thanos simping for her, but hey… she couldn't help being intergalactically hot. Blame genetics.
Honestly though, it was not the worst idea. If nothing else, it would give the multiverse front-row seats to her metal concert of conquest.
Had she more time, she might've even launched a full-on line of Uru spaceships and soul-splitting artillery, all shiny and ready for a dramatic Soul Stone retrieval. Big boom, bigger fashion statement.
But alas, with only one more year planned in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber of gains and glow-ups, time was a little tight. Especially since forging Uru requires trivial things like the heart of a dying star or a god-tier forge blessed by ancient fire spirits who refuse to work weekends.
So instead, Hela decided to double down on abusing her adaptation ability. She'd basically trained her body to laugh at any reality-warping nonsense based on space.
Black holes? Kinda cute. Wormholes? Just child's play. Reality collapsing into cosmic origami? She'd use it as a yoga mat. Forced teleportation, dimensional banishment, pocket dimension spam—none of it worked anymore.
Which was kind of a big deal.
Once she snagged the other Infinity Stones and juiced herself on their cosmic properties, she'd practically be the universal version of "try me." Immunity to reality-warping? Check. Resistance to soul tricks, time loops, mental invasions, space shenanigans? Check. Punch-proof to the Hulk level of "oops, I broke your universe"? Big check.
The very thought had her more fired up than a phoenix in a flamethrower. Even if the Infinity Stones didn't function outside the Marvel Universe, she could still adapt to their energy and steal their tricks like the ultimate cosmic plagiarist.
And yes, she was totally planning to suck the Stones dry just to see if "infinite" actually meant infinite or if someone was just using marketing buzzwords again, so the grind continued.
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(Earth)
If a suspicious number of world leaders—presidents, prime ministers, and those shadowy figures who make presidents blink twice before signing anything—were to suddenly drop dead after trying (and failing) to spy on a literal goddess, you can bet the planet would spiral into a meltdown faster than Twitter during an Elon Musk press conference.
Countries would be paralyzed, the global economy would flop harder than a fish on land, and technological progress would screech to a halt—especially considering most of Earth's top-tier brains had already rage-quit the planet earlier to follow the said goddess.
But where the world saw apocalypse, one woman saw opportunity. A golden one.
To be more specific: Ophelia. A woman whose blood is so poisonous that even poison gods would tap out like they'd just eaten ghost pepper soup on an empty stomach.
There she was, grinning like a villain who just saw the hero's tragic backstory.
A crooked smile played on her face as she imagined it: her first step. The first glorious step toward universal domination—starting with the oh-so-squishy humans and their civilization of chaos, coffee, and bonk.
It had been quite some time since she gained her powers, and good news: she had finally stopped accidentally melting people. Small wins, you know. She had fully adapted to her new state of existence, which now included immunity to embarrassment and the ability to kill someone with a sneeze.
Her clout in Hydra was now sky-high. SHIELD was useless against her. About as threatening as a squirrel with a butter knife.
People like Alexander Pierce, Dr. Zola's remaining brain bits, Baron Strucker, Baron Zemo (still dramatic), and that crypt-keeper Gideon Malick were all tiptoeing around her, desperately hoping to strike an alliance. They feared she'd crush Hydra like a soda can under her heel. They were right.
Of course, Ophelia saw through them faster than a gold digger at a billionaire convention. Their 'loyalty' to Hydra was just a nice way of saying, "We want immortality, ultimate power, and a Diddy part—" Now that she had all that (except the D-party), they were foaming at the mouth.
She ignored them. She was done being queen of pirate-wannabe island Madripoor. It was time to think bigger.
Thanks to Hela turning world leaders into a permanent vegetative state, the global chessboard was now missing half its pieces—and Ophelia was already holding the queen.
Taking America? Please. Even she wasn't delusional. That place had more hidden puppet-masters than a conspiracy theorist's fever dream. She wasn't about to waste years chasing phantoms and arguing with think tanks.
No, after some extremely dramatic brainstorming (complete with red strings and maps), she narrowed it down to four countries: France, Russia, Argentina, and her beloved, paprika-scented homeland, Hungary.
And the winner was… France!
Why? Because the French president was recently reduced to atoms (one has to wonder what grudge Hela had against him), half the ministers were missing, and frankly, she liked croissants.
So, three days after the power vacuum in Paris, the city was about to get its second invader in the 20th century—but this one didn't come with tanks or a stylish haircut.
Nope. Ophelia checked into a five-star hotel—yes, really—and hacked the security cams. From her lavish suite (which came with free breakfast and a panic room), she orchestrated the entire takeover like a Bond villain on vacation.
Her army was not thousands of soldiers. Just 200 ultra-elite spies—the type who could waltz into SHIELD HQ, steal their coffee, and leave without a trace.
If the French public knew their country was currently being invaded by someone sipping wine in a bathrobe while staring at 50 surveillance screens, they'd riot out of sheer disbelief.
Flanking her were ten of her most trusted operatives, all watching over the operation like overworked interns with better aim. They weren't just monitoring Paris. No, no. They had eyes on Lyon, Marseille, Monaco—even some sleepy towns where the biggest crime was someone stealing your cheese.
Their mission wasn't to kill.
Killing would be too basic.
Instead, they were feeding powerful French figures—and their lovely families—a carefully handcrafted poison-lite dish, made with the rarest of ingredients: Ophelia's infused blood and just a pinch of pettiness.
What made this poison special wasn't its lethality—it was that she controlled it. Every single one of them was now a human GPS tracker. They wouldn't even feel sick unless she wanted the poison to activate. No antidote. No escape. Just polite smiling until she decided your organs should go on vacation.
(End Of The Chapter)
It was as fun as before, I think, as fun as before I took the first small pause next time, hope it can reach the exaggerated 5000 Words and don't forget to vote please.