New York, a decent coffee shop.
Ronan sat street-side, sipping coffee and soaking in the view.
This spot had all kinds of beauty to offer.
Yup, just the scenery, he'd say.
A man in sunglasses and a suit strode up, plopping down across from him.
None other than Phil Coulson.
"Guess your gig's not that hectic."
"You've got time to invite me for coffee."
Ronan grinned, setting his cup down.
"Busy or not, a promise is a promise, right?"
Coulson slid off his shades, flashing a faint smile.
He didn't seem too torn up about handing over the Darkhold.
"So, you brought what I asked for?"
Ronan raised a brow.
He was a bit thrown.
By all logic, S.H.I.E.L.D. would cling to something this powerful.
But Coulson wasn't acting greedy.
Coulson nodded, lifting a briefcase from the ground onto the table and sliding it over.
Ronan eyed him, then, under Coulson's gaze, popped it open.
There it was—the Darkhold.
Running his fingers over the book's textured cover, Ronan felt a whisper of dark energy.
A voice nudged his mind, urging him to crack it open.
This is the Darkhold?
He squinted, a faint gold glow flickering from his right hand.
A tiny barrier snapped around the book, and—poof—it vanished from the case.
Ronan snapped the lid shut and pushed it back.
"Nice. Exactly what I wanted."
"From your look, you've figured out what it does."
Ronan watched Coulson stow the case, smirking.
When he'd opened it, he'd caught a flicker of dread in Coulson's eyes.
Not for him—for the book.
"Got a free trip to another world, courtesy of it."
"Lucky me."
Coulson's expression twisted, complex.
When he'd nabbed the book, it flung him into a limbo between worlds, ghost-mode activated.
Seeing everyone, unseen by all—he wasn't itching for round two.
Even if it was a wild ride.
"Sounds like you've been through some shit."
Ronan read the vibe in Coulson's eyes.
Stuff that rattled a S.H.I.E.L.D. vet? Rare as hell.
They'd toyed with the Cosmic Cube like it was a plaything.
"Nearly had an AI end the world."
"Well, more like it built me another life."
Coulson gave a bitter chuckle, memories surfacing.
Aida, the robot.
To yank Coulson and crew back from that other world, Melinda May had fed Aida the Darkhold.
Worked like a charm—they escaped, Earth-bound again.
But what came next? Nightmares that jolted him awake.
A robot, post-Darkhold, started thinking human.
After some twists, Aida whipped up a headset.
Hooked Coulson and the team into it—dropped them in a full-on virtual reality.
There, he lived a whole different life.
A "what if I'd never been an agent" flick.
Not just him—his squad too.
Good news? They broke free in the end.
"Hell of a story."
"Didn't peg Melinda May for that kind of wild card."
"Handing a book that dangerous to a robot?"
"Didn't she think—what if it got ideas? AI crisis, straight out of legend?"
Ronan couldn't help but roast after hearing it all.
To him, Aida's human spark was fresh—her moves extreme but small-scale.
If she'd played it cool, laid low…
That'd be humanity's real nightmare.
"I get you."
"That's why I brought it to you—to keep safe."
"In your hands, this won't happen again, right?"
Coulson shook his head with a wry smile.
He knew what Ronan was driving at.
Looking back, they'd been scared shitless too.
Back then, they figured the book was too risky for humans—reading it sparked bad ideas.
So, a robot got the job.
May's snap call under pressure.
Good thing it was over now.
"Yeah, I'll seal it somewhere no one'll find."
"Besides you, no one'll know where it went."
Ronan nodded—his word.
The Darkhold loose on Earth was trouble waiting to happen.
If some nutcase got it and skipped science for summoning evil gods?
Doomsday, full stop.
"Hope I never deal with this again."
"I just want a damn vacation."
Coulson rubbed his temples, looking beat.
A workaholic saying that? This mess hit him hard.
Ronan knew, though—wilder shit was coming.
Like time-hopping years ahead.
"Speaking of—you said you lived a whole other life in that virtual world."
"Which do you like more, that or this?"
Business done, Ronan's curiosity kicked in.
He knew virtual worlds often patched up regrets.
Coulson froze—didn't expect that curveball.
After a long pause, he slid his shades back on and stood.
"The me now might crave that other life."
"But if I'd picked it from the start, that me'd probably yearn for this one."
He shot Ronan a smile, extending his right hand.
Ronan grinned back, standing and shaking it.
Watching Coulson walk off, Ronan shook his head.
Coulson's tale might've hit a pause.
His? Just getting started.
—
Kamar-Taj.
Under Wong and Mordo's watch, Ronan stashed the Darkhold deep in the library.
Chains locked, panel slid shut.
The infamous Darkhold, sealed away.
"This book's different—not for sharing."
"I've set a sealing spell—reinforcing it now and then."
Ronan turned to his mentor's left and right hands, voice low.
Mordo and Wong nodded in sync.
They got the stakes.
The Darkhold's pull to corruption rivaled Dormammu's.
Dark Dimension intel, this book—both needed locking up.
"For a while, I'll be off-world."
"Might not be on Earth."
"So, it's on you guys."
Ronan shifted to logistics.
Darkhold secured, armor done—he was due at the TVA.
He was itching to see its state, especially that timeline post-Sylvie's stab.
Her blade cracked open the multiverse, freeing all those locked-up Kangs.
Time to check it out.
"Got it—like the Ancient One."
Mordo nodded, no prying.
Back when she was Sorcerer Supreme, she'd jet off-planet too.
Mordo was used to it.
"While I'm gone, the Time Stone stays here."
"Emergency only—use it."
"It's the last resort."
"You know messing with time bites back."
Ronan unhooked the Eye of Agamotto from his neck, setting it on the table.
Wong and Mordo could wield it.
Their faces tightened, though.
"Don't sweat it. The Ancient One said you're both Supreme material."
"My being here just threw a curveball."
"She trusted you—so do I."
Seeing their tension, Ronan grinned to ease it.
No empty comfort—straight facts.
Experience, knowledge, creds—they could've led Kamar-Taj.
Like 616—Strange gone, Wong ran it fine, right?
Why Ronan could play hands-off boss.
"Fine, we won't touch it unless it's dire."
Mordo and Wong swapped a look, chuckling.
Mordo was a rules guy—order was king.
He hated rule-breakers.
Perfect for managing Kamar-Taj's guts.
"Cool, it's all yours."
"Before I bounce, gotta visit a neighbor…"
Ronan tilted his head up, gaze piercing the sky.
—
Dark Dimension.
Dormammu, deep in slumber, snapped awake.
A way-too-familiar vibe hit the Dark Dimension.
One he loathed.
"ROAR!!!"
"Worm, you dare step into my dark—"
Before he finished, pure dark energy blasted him.
His roar twisted into a shrill scream.
Ronan's figure faded in.
Right now, he blended with the darkness behind him.
"I let you squat on my turf—that's mercy enough."
"But why's your mouth always so foul?"
Ronan crossed his arms, smirking at Dormammu.
As he appeared, the split Dark Dimension shifted again.
Ronan's chunk started creeping forward, nibbling at Dormammu's turf.
And Dormammu? Powerless to stop it.
"Damn worm!"
"This is my domain, my Dark Dimension!"
Dormammu roared, pissed and defiant.
Ronan didn't give a damn about his tantrum.
The takeover sped up.
"Dormammu, you found this unclaimed realm and took it."
"Never thought the real owner might come for you, thief?"
Ronan squinted, half-teasing.
Back in the day, Dormammu snagged the Dark Dimension because it was up for grabs.
Squatter turned dark lord, feared across planets.
Not anymore.
The true owner was back.
"No way!"
"You can't be the master here!"
"It was unclaimed!"
Dormammu glared, unwilling to bend.
Not that he wouldn't kill Ronan—he couldn't.
His prized Dark Dimension, his ace, flopped against Ronan.
Ronan's control trumped his!
That's what broke him most!
"Unclaimed?"
"You're a riot."
"A place this strong, no owner?"
"Or you gonna say you never worried the real boss might show?"
Ronan laughed—zero faith in Dormammu's spiel.
Didn't matter anyway.
He was back, and this was his to reclaim.
No matter how Dormammu raged or denied it, reality wouldn't budge!