In just half a month, Wanda had already grown familiar with everyone in the apartment.
Though her initial encounters hadn't exactly gone smoothly.
At the very beginning, when she first saw little Sherry at Lyon's place—along with the disheveled Natasha sisters in loose pajamas and messy hair—her still somewhat innocent heart had taken quite a hit.
She even briefly believed that Sherry was the result of some mistake Lyon had made during adolescence.
At that moment, her dazed eyes wandered over everyone in the room, and she stood there blankly, mumbling a goodbye. She tried to smile politely, but her lips just wouldn't lift.
As she left, she softly muttered an apology for disturbing them, her departing figure strangely tinged with a trace of unexplained gloom.
But a few days later, Wanda returned to Lyon's apartment.
Because she truly had no other choice.
The endless, consecutive nightmares were driving her to the brink.
The dreams were so vivid, it was as if she were reliving the experiences of another version of herself.
And yet, the parts that appeared in her dreams were always violent battles—almost never anything resembling normalcy.
In the dreams, her eyes were stained red with blood, and her entire vision—from sky to ground—was awash in crimson. Scarlet magical energy obeyed her every command; with a single wave of her hand, she could take a life, like a demonic god emerging from a red abyss.
Wanda, who had only ever killed livestock or dimensional creatures, couldn't possibly accept such nightmares.
Every time she opened her eyes in the morning, she felt a disorienting sense of temporal distortion.
She had to talk to someone—preferably someone like Lyon, who could cast magic to soothe the soul.
Otherwise, she would definitely go insane.
But who else could she turn to?
She'd tried telling Pietro about the dreams.
But Pietro had just clutched his head and said, horrified, "No! One bully sister is more than enough—I absolutely do not need to know about your other more dangerous selves!"
So, after shoving Pietro's head into the sofa cushions,
Wanda had no choice but to seek out Lyon once again.
That search had unknowingly turned into half a month of regular visits.
By now, Wanda had grown familiar with Natasha and the others.
She'd also come to learn that Sherry was a poor girl Lyon had adopted.
And compared to her own background, Sherry's was just as tragic.
This made Wanda feel sympathy for the girl—and oddly, it also lifted something heavy from her chest, like a weight had suddenly been moved away.
"…And that's how it ended. She destroyed all the Darkhold books across the multiverse, and died within the collapsing Wundagore Mountain."
Wanda pressed her slender fingers to the corner of her brow, her expression weary.
"This dream lasted a long time. Even now, fragments of it still flash through my mind."
"And…" Wanda extended her hand, "just like before, I seemed to have learned many of her spells during the dream."
"Only this time, most of them appear to be from the Darkhold…"
As she spoke, scarlet energy began to pulse from her fingertips.
The color of the energy quickly darkened under her control, like blood beginning to clot.
And then her fingertips started to turn pitch black.
"Stop—now!" Lyon's pupils contracted. He immediately cast a Finite Incantatem to break the spell and halt Wanda's casting.
He seized her fingers at once.
Surging with Origin Power from his genes, he forced out every trace of the black energy clinging to her fingertips.
"Even the Wanda in your dream was mentally affected just by using magic from the Darkhold—yet you, a magic novice, dared to follow in her footsteps?"
Lyon reprimanded her. "When using magic, you must respect the taboos—especially magic that affects the soul or violates natural order. That kind of magic must be used with caution!"
He never thought there would come a day when he, like Wong, would be lecturing someone about the dangers of forbidden spells.
He looked up with a mix of frustration and disbelief—only to suddenly pause.
Right now, Wanda was gazing at him softly, her delicate fingers still resting gently in his palm, like a docile lamb awaiting its master to smooth its wool.
But Lyon's attention wasn't on her expression or her hand.
His eyes were drawn to the faint, illusory crimson crown above her head.
The crown was entirely scarlet, semi-transparent, and you could see the wall behind her right through it—almost like it didn't truly exist, just an illusion.
But Lyon knew—when that crown solidified, it would mean that Wanda had fully become the Scarlet Witch.
Possessing the power to rewrite all of reality within her perceptive range.
In the main cinematic universe, the other Wanda had only reached that stage after sacrificing everyone she cared about—friends and family, all gone.
But the Wanda in front of him had achieved this level… after just half a month of dreaming?
This rate of growth… was even faster than his own before he went to the Swallowed star World…
"What is it?" Wanda blinked in confusion.
She touched the top of her head. "Is there something on my head?"
Lyon covered his face with one hand. "No, I'm just… a little jealous."
"Jealous?" Wanda looked even more confused.
"What I mean is—we need to sort this out."
Lyon reached out and gently pressed a finger to Wanda's forehead, casting a soul-soothing spell to help relieve her mental pressure.
Then, in a calm and steady tone, he began explaining: "Dreams, in some cases, are windows through which we glimpse our other selves in parallel universes."
"We've talked about this before—those Wandas you see in your dreams are actually your variants."
"First of all, in your dreams, most of the other Wandas awaken their abilities through the Mind Stone. But only you awakened through the Space Stone."
"Second, none of the other Wandas have shown signs of dreaming about their counterparts. Only you have experienced this phenomenon."
"And the dreams you've had are almost exclusively battle scenes."
"After the dream ends, you retain the magical abilities or techniques that your counterpart used during combat, correct?"
"Yes… that's right." Wanda nodded hesitantly.
She was already immersed in the magic Lyon was casting. Her eyes were gently closed, her expression relaxed and content.
From time to time, her brows twitched slightly, and her shoulders leaned back.
It was as if Lyon were actually giving her a shoulder massage.
"Then, perhaps the root of everything lies in the Space Stone," Lyon continued to analyze. "Every Wanda is born with Chaos Magic."
"The gem merely acts as a catalyst, like a key that unlocks the door to potential."
"But the strength of Chaos Magic itself never changes—what changes is the user's technique and method of casting."
"The more refined the technique, the more advanced the casting method, the stronger the Chaos Magic becomes."
"According to what you said, those Wandas whose abilities were awakened by the Mind Stone would naturally be more adept at manipulating the soul."
"I believe that's because the Mind Stone enhances their skill in developing Chaos Magic techniques related to the soul."
"But what the Space Stone gives you might be the ability to communicate and learn from Wandas of other worlds through dreams."
"That would fall under Chaos Magic's application in the domain of space," Lyon concluded.
Wanda opened her eyes, looking slightly concerned. "Then does that mean… I'll be dreaming of versions of myself from other universes forever?"
"I'm really not interested in their lives," Wanda grumbled. "Besides, constantly having these dreams is draining me mentally."
"What are you thinking?!" Lyon flicked her on the forehead. "How could Chaos Magic be such a burdensome thing?"
Amid Wanda's soft whimper like a scolded puppy, he continued, "Chaos Magic belongs to you. If you keep dreaming like this, it only means your control over it is too weak."
"Or rather, you never even tried to control it!"
Lyon ended the spell and stood up. "Alright, your issue is clear now."
"How to control and cast Chaos Magic—those things, you can learn from your alternate selves."
"So go back and practice properly. Train enough, and you'll be able to control your dreams… except for the magic from the Darkhold. You are not allowed to practice that."
He walked Wanda to the door, noticing she still seemed a bit reluctant to leave.
He reminded her, "Be sure to come back in a week and report your progress to me."
Wanda asked, "And if I still can't control the Chaos Magic by then… does that mean I'll have to rely on your soul magic again to ease the stress?"
That question was phrased like someone at a massage parlor asking the technician, "So next time, can I request you again?"
Lyon's expression darkened: "No way. Don't even think about slacking off. If you're still having nightmares next week, I'll use an illusion spell to make you dream even more!"
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Read ahead of WN at Patreon.com/LiveLifeLove