As he continued to shrink, Garus suddenly remembered something. Back when he first arrived in the Marvel universe, the explanation that guy had given him—it had all been a lie. There was no "system error," no accidental breach of a space barrier. He had been deliberately thrown into the Quantum Realm.
"Why did we stop?"
Seeing Garus glance over threateningly, Ant-Man quickly explained, "Sorry, I can't shrink any further. This is my limit."
Even Pym Particles couldn't shrink someone infinitely. The last time he had come here, this was as far as he could go.
The scene before them looked like something out of a bizarre, surrealist painting—blazing colors and strange light sources with no clear origin.
Garus extended his psychic senses into Ant-Man's mind. The man was telling the truth. Had Garus misjudged the situation before?
"What is it?"
Ant-Man glanced at Garus, puzzled. The other man was staring into the distance, as if he'd discovered something shocking.
Following his gaze, Ant-Man cried out in surprise: "Wait—there's someone over there?!"
A figure clad in strange attire stood ahead, fully covered. When the helmet was removed, they saw an elderly woman with long, silver hair.
"Janet?" Ant-Man's voice was laced with disbelief. He remembered seeing photos of her at Dr. Pym's home.
It was her—no doubt about it.
"Scott, I noticed you both times you entered the Quantum Realm. But that second time... you weren't yourself. You were like a zombie."
Ant-Man looked visibly uncomfortable. He didn't like thinking back to that period. Back then, he was nothing more than a mindless monster, driven by an endless hunger for flesh. He'd done things he still found revolting.
He hadn't touched meat since.
After their emotional reunion, Garus was standing nearby, motionless, eyes closed.
"Hey—" Scott started to reach out to tap Garus on the shoulder but was stopped by Janet.
"He senses it too. That energy surrounding us... it's composed of the fundamental particles of the universe."
They watched him in silence. Time didn't seem to exist here, and they didn't know how long they waited. But when Garus finally opened his eyes again, something about him had changed.
Without saying a word, Garus raised his hand. A flash of light enveloped Scott and Janet, and the next thing they knew, they were standing in a sun-dappled forest.
"Is this... are we home?"
Exchanging wide-eyed glances, they ignored the stunned onlookers and took off running. Right now, nothing mattered more than being home.
Elsewhere, a smile played across Garus's lips. A swirling vortex materialized in his palm, pulling in the strange ambient energy around them. He had fully mastered the principles behind the use and synthesis of Pym Particles.
His body began shrinking again, this time surpassing all previous limitations.
As he compressed further, he felt himself breach a dimensional boundary. In a blink, he found himself in another mysterious realm—one filled with drifting mist and sparks of fire-like stardust.
As he continued to shrink, he realized—these weren't sparks. These were nebulae. Entire galaxies. Stars.
He hoped his hypothesis was right.
Still decreasing in size, Garus noticed a region radiating powerful holy energy and curiously flew toward it.
He passed through a planet's atmosphere and was immediately engulfed in golden light. Towering structures shimmered above and within the clouds, majestic and awe-inspiring.
To his left stood the tallest of these sanctums. The holy energy was most concentrated there, guarded by beings with radiant white wings.
Garus walked in freely. The angelic guards didn't even acknowledge his presence, as if he were invisible.
Inside, he found two winged figures glowing with divine light, engaged in a heated argument.
"Tyrael, you should never have interfered with the mortal world. That is forbidden by the ancient laws of the High Heavens. You must be punished!"
"Imperius, my only crime was defending justice. Have you forgotten that I am the Archangel of Justice? I won't cower behind a throne like you."
"Enough, Tyrael!" The tension in the chamber was palpable. Imperius leapt from his throne, weapon in hand, his radiant spear pointed at Tyrael.
But then he froze.
"Wait! Who is that human?"
The "human" was Garus—standing plainly before them, his presence now fully revealed.
Crap. Had his concealment failed?
Only now did Garus realize his stealth techniques weren't working here. No wonder. This was the High Heavens, home to the angels. The carvings along the walls weren't mere decoration—they were arcane runes.
Though the Heavens had once been breached by the Lords of Hell, that was the work of demonic gods. To these angels, Garus was simply a man—albeit one now surrounded by deadly attention.
"A necromancer?" Tyrael muttered, misinterpreting the deathly aura emanating from Garus.
"The High Heavens are sacred! You shall not defile them!" Imperius shouted. His wings flared open, and he lunged forward, spear in hand, transforming into a streak of blazing white light aimed straight at Garus.
Imperius, Archangel of Valor. Tyrael, Archangel of Justice. The surroundings, the tension—it finally clicked for Garus. This was the Diablo universe. A realm scarred by the eternal war between angels and demons, where humanity struggled just to survive.
He recalled the game's storyline and smiled at the irony. Did they really think he was just another fragile human?
Imperius came at him like a thunderbolt, but Garus caught the spear with ease, stopping him mid-charge.
"An angel? Pathetic."
"Urgh!" Imperius struggled, but he couldn't break free.
Garus floated midair, gripping the Archangel of Valor by the neck and lifting him effortlessly.
"Valor, huh? I'll give you that—you do have courage. But I despise your hypocrisy."
Tyrael was stunned by the sudden reversal. Though Imperius had always been brash and aggressive, they had once stood side by side. Tyrael drew his weapon and shouted: "Let him go!"
Light flared around them as more angels appeared—but they were mere foot soldiers. Garus didn't even spare them a glance.
"Once, I was a paladin of the Light. But over time, I came to despise your kind. You angels are no better than demons."
The mortal realm had once known peace—until angels and demons dragged their war across its soil. Even after the Three Prime Evils were sealed away, the angels made no effort to clear the lingering threats to humanity. They merely guarded the gate between realms.
"Apologies. I got carried away," Garus said, remembering none of this truly concerned him. He was just a visitor. But he decided—he'd linger here for a while.
Garus easily defeated the Prime Evils and even eliminated the treacherous angel who had turned against Heaven. Thanks to his intervention, the mortal realm was restored to its former state.
It hadn't taken him long.
"Nephalem—no, Savior. Are you leaving us?"
Deckard Cain, the wise prophet, looked sorrowfully at Garus, who stood in the center of the plaza. A massive statue had just been erected in his honor.
Garus had felt awkward when they built it. He never intended to play the role of a savior. To him, all of this was like playing a modded game. He wouldn't deny—it was fun.
"It's time I moved on. I'll leave a teleportation array here. If I get the chance, I'll return."
With a casual wave, a rune-covered portal shimmered into being on the stone floor.
"Farewell."
Once more, Garus began to shrink—vanishing into the Quantum Realm.