Silence had fallen over the secluded estate, heavy with the weight of Ethan's revelations. Richard and Eleanor Vance remained seated, their faces pale, consumed by the guilt and horror of the suffering inflicted on their son by their own children. Ethan had left the room, leaving behind a promise of vengeance that echoed in the air like a funeral toll.
He stood on the balcony of his room, his gaze lost in the darkness of the forest. The full silver moon lit the treetops, but its light couldn't pierce the coldness that now dwelled in Ethan's heart. His parents had found him, and the joy of that reunion had been an unexpected balm on his wounds. But it hadn't erased the scar, nor the thirst for justice. Marcus and Jessica. Their faces, their mocking laughter, the pain they had inflicted—everything was etched deep within him. He had spent decades building a perfect world, but he had never forgotten the one that had broken him.
"They will pay," he whispered to the night, his voice a glacial breath. "For every blow, every humiliation, every tear."
He began to plan. His vengeance would not be brutal, but methodical. He wouldn't kill them. Death was too simple, too quick. He wanted them to live, to see their empire crumble, to feel the same powerlessness he had once felt. He would strip them of everything they cherished: their fortune, their reputation, their freedom. He would break them—not physically, but at their very core.
As he sank into thought, a strange sensation passed through him. A subtle vibration in the very fabric of reality, a presence he had never felt before in this universe. It was not a threat, nor hostile, but ancient—imbued with a wisdom and depth unlike his own.
A faint chill moved through the air. In front of him, on the balcony, space warped—not violently like a Chitauri portal, but with serene elegance. Luminous patterns formed in the void, then faded, revealing a figure.
She was a woman, dressed in a saffron robe, her head shaved, eyes a piercing blue with infinite depth, like wells of wisdom. The Ancient One. He had seen glimpses of her across the echoes of the multiverse—a guardian of the mystic arts, the Sorcerer Supreme of Earth.
Ethan showed no surprise. He stared at her, impassive. "You are the Ancient One."
"And you are Ethan Vance," she replied, her voice calm and melodic, yet bearing undeniable authority. "Or should I say, the Master of the Infinite."
"How did you find me?" Ethan asked, his voice cold. "I didn't announce myself."
"Your arrival created a ripple in the mystical currents of this reality," the Ancient One explained. "A ripple of a magnitude we've never felt before. It was as if a new star had ignited in the cosmos—but one that wasn't meant to exist."
"I'm not a star," Ethan said. "I'm a force."
"A force with the power to create and destroy realities," the Ancient One conceded. "A force that brought the dead back to life." Her gaze drifted briefly toward the house, then returned to Ethan. "A feat even the greatest sorcerers wouldn't dare attempt."
"I control life and death," Ethan stated, as if it were self-evident. "It was merely a matter of will."
The Ancient One nodded slowly. "Your power is immense, Ethan. Unprecedented in this dimension. You are a singularity."
"I know," Ethan replied. "What do you want from me?"
"I want nothing," said the Ancient One. "I came to understand. And to warn you."
"Warn me about what?"
"Your presence here, with such unanchored power, creates a subtle imbalance," she explained. "This reality has its own laws, its own energy flows. Your essence—boundless and limitless—is like a cosmic river trying to pour itself into a stream. It could have unforeseen consequences."
Ethan's brow furrowed, a rare sign of contemplation. "What kind of consequences?"
"Unexplained dimensional fractures, disruptions in the timelines, resonances that could attract unwanted entities from other planes of existence," she listed. "This reality is fragile, Ethan. It is constantly threatened by forces you may not yet know. Forces that may seek to exploit your power—or destroy it."
"I don't fear threats," Ethan said, his voice once again icy. "I've faced the Void."
"The Void is one thing," the Ancient One countered. "The mind of a malevolent being is another. Dormammu, for example. Or others who dwell at the edges of reality."
Ethan studied her carefully. He sensed truth in her words. He had spent decades mastering his own dimension, making it perfect. He didn't want his presence here to destabilize this universe—especially if he planned to stay for his revenge.
"What do you suggest?" he asked.
"You are the master of your essence," said the Ancient One. "You can choose to anchor it, to harmonize it with this reality. To give it a resonance that will not disrupt but strengthen."
"How?"
The Ancient One extended her hand, palm open. "A fraction. An infinitesimal part of your energy, of your vitality. A voluntary gift. It would create a link—an anchor. Your power would remain infinite, but it would gain a point of reference in this reality, a signature that makes it compatible."
Ethan stared at her, his eyes piercing hers. "And what would you do with this fraction?"
"It would not be used for my own gain," the Ancient One assured. "It would be absorbed into the mystical flows of this dimension, acting as a regulator, a beacon. It would also allow me to better understand the nature of your power—and to assist you, should threats tied to your presence arise."
"You want a piece of me," Ethan said, his voice flat. "Like a tax for existing."
"Like an act of coexistence," she corrected. "A way to ensure stability for all. And for you, a way to operate without unintended collateral damage to this reality you've chosen to reenter."
Ethan reflected. He was used to control, to taking—not to giving. But he was also pragmatic. If his presence caused disruptions, that could complicate his plans. And the Ancient One, with her knowledge of dimensions and mystical threats, might be an unexpected ally—or at least, a valuable source of insight.
"What fraction?" he asked.
"Five percent," the Ancient One replied. "Enough to create the necessary anchor. Insignificant to a being whose power is infinite."
Ethan looked at her, his deep blue eyes probing the Ancient One's soul. He sensed no malice, no hidden agenda—only deep wisdom and a sense of duty to the fabric of reality. He rarely trusted, but something in her inspired a cold kind of respect.
"Very well," Ethan said, decision made. "I will give you five percent of my power and vitality."
He extended his hand, palm open, mirroring the Ancient One's gesture. The infinite energy within him began to radiate—not explosively, but as a soft, pulsing light. A stream of energy, pure crystalline blue, flowed from his hand into hers.
As the energy touched her palm, a brilliant light flooded the balcony. The Ancient One closed her eyes for a moment, a look of deep concentration on her face. She absorbed the energy, feeling it merge with her—not as her own, but as something she could now comprehend.
The process lasted several minutes. When the light faded, Ethan lowered his hand. He felt no loss, no diminishment of his power. His vitality remained infinite. It was as though a single drop had been taken from a boundless ocean.
The Ancient One opened her eyes, a slight smile on her lips. "The connection is made. Your essence is now anchored to this reality, harmonized with its flows. You may operate without fear of unintended disruptions."
"And you?" Ethan asked. "What do you gain?"
"A better understanding of what is possible," the Ancient One answered. "And additional protection for this dimension. Your presence is now a stabilizing force, rather than an anomaly." She looked at him with newfound intensity. "Your anger is palpable, Ethan Vance. Your desire for revenge is a burning flame."
"It's what sustains me," Ethan said, his voice once again hard.
"Vengeance is a dangerous path," warned the Ancient One. "It can consume the one who walks it."
"I've walked through fire," Ethan replied. "I rose from ashes. I won't be consumed."
"You brought your parents back to life," the Ancient One said, shifting the subject. "That is an act of deep love. Do not forget that."
Ethan didn't respond. His love for his parents was the only warmth he allowed himself. The rest was cold, calculated.
"I must go," said the Ancient One. "Time is precious." She took a step back, and the space around her began to distort once more.
"Wait," said Ethan. "You said you could help if threats related to my presence appeared. Does that include information?"
The Ancient One smiled. "My knowledge is available to those who seek balance. If your path crosses forces that threaten this reality—or yourself—I will be there."
"Good," said Ethan. "We may need that."
The Ancient One nodded, then vanished in a shimmer of light, leaving Ethan alone on the balcony. The wind whispered softly, but the night felt calmer, as if a burden had been lifted.
Ethan remained there for a long time, contemplating the starry sky. He had given a part of himself—an infinitesimal fraction of his infinite being. It was a sacrifice, but a calculated one. He had secured his place in this reality, eliminated a potential source of complication. And perhaps, unintentionally, forged a link with a powerful and wise entity.
The thought of his parents, asleep inside, slightly soothed the cold within him. They were back. And now, he could fully focus on the next step.
Vengeance.
Marcus and Jessica suspected nothing.
And that was exactly how he wanted it.
The game was about to begin.