She looked nothing like the bald, saffron-robed sorcerer I'd seen in the movies.
And yet her face—her face was almost identical.
No way. Could it be… you? The Ancient One?
---
Name: Russell (Mortal)
Lifespan: 25 / 250
Physique: 100
Perception: 100
Spirit: 100
Talent 1 – Energy Absorption: Can draw in any form of energy and convert it into attribute points. Defaults to lifespan.
Talent 2 – Attribute Transfer: Lifespan can be converted into Physique, Perception, or Spirit.
Status: Upgrading… (7 days remaining)
---
Three months.
That was all the time I'd had to carve out an existence in this Marvel universe's New York City.
On paper, my stats still branded me as "mortal," but with triple digits across the board, my body could bench-press a car, shrug off bullets, react faster than most people could blink, and even launch psychic attacks.
Put me up against Captain America? I'd call it sixty-forty in my favor.
When I first discovered Talent One—Energy Absorption—I thought I'd struck gold. A golden finger, the ultimate cheat. But like most things in life, the fine print ruined it.
Yes, I could absorb physical energy—light, electricity, heat, kinetic force—but the efficiency was pitiful, capped by some mysterious output limit. Nuclear power? Never tested. I wasn't suicidal.
But there was another kind of energy. Something drawn from the soul itself. Absorbing it was fast, efficient, intoxicatingly powerful.
And the source? People's moral extremes. The more saintly or the more wicked, the more energy they left behind.
Mobsters gave off a trickle. Philanthropists… well, funerals were surprisingly underwhelming. One funeral netted me a single point. A whole day at a hospital waiting room had been more fruitful.
Twenty days ago, after pushing my stats to a neat 100 each, the system had pinged me: upgrade available, one month required. I'd hit the button without hesitation.
Then came Hell's Kitchen. A massive gang war erupted, and though my panel was locked mid-upgrade, I wasn't about to waste free energy. I snuck in, drained the place dry—two hundred points, easy.
I should've been euphoric. Instead, I crashed.
Depression. Isolation. A tidal wave of negative emotions. Couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't move without dragging chains behind me.
Being a dimensional transplant doesn't come with a social circle, either. No friends, no one to talk to.
So I made a decision. If I couldn't fix it myself, I'd see a doctor.
A psychologist.
---
Manhattan, the city that never sleeps.
A discreet clinic sat tucked between boutiques and cafés: Yao's Private Practice.
I knocked.
"Come in."
The door opened to a wash of clean, soothing fragrance. Behind a desk sat a woman dressed in black, platinum-blond hair cropped close, head bent over her notes. She looked up, smiled, and gestured toward the chair opposite her.
"Mr. Russell, please—have a seat."
The moment I saw her face, my heart skipped.
So familiar. Too familiar.
Not bald, not in robes—but unmistakable.
No way. You're… you're the Ancient One?!
Had the universe really just hand-delivered her to me?
---
"Would you like coffee, or tea?" she asked.
"…Tea."
As she stood to prepare it, I forced my breathing steady. Whatever game fate was playing, I'd roll with it. Therapy first, metaphysics later.
She returned with steaming cups, the fragrance curling like poetry in the air, and settled across from me.
"Mr. Russell, shall we begin?"
"Yes."
"You're here because you'd like treatment for depression, is that right?"
"Yes."
"How long has this been going on?"
"About a week."
The questions that followed were routine—age, occupation, family background. She watched me closely as I answered, jotting notes, analyzing my microexpressions.
And I watched her right back.
She was good. Methodical, compassionate, professional. She could have been a genuine psychiatrist.
But who said the Ancient One couldn't be both?
---
"What do you do for work, Russell?" she asked, this time leaving off the "Mr."
"I manage a reading room." That's the day job. The night job involves nudging gangs into killing each other and reaping the rewards.
"Stressful?"
"Not really." I was my own boss. Woke up when I felt like it.
"Any conflicts with coworkers?"
"No conflicts."
"Could you describe your interactions with them?"
"I don't have coworkers."
Her lips quirked. "Russell, you're quite the comedian."
I sipped my tea, let the warmth settle me. "It's true. I run the place alone."
She refilled my cup with quiet grace. "And your family?"
"I'm an orphan."
"I see. That must be difficult, being on your own."
"It's just a bit of weathering. Nothing I can't handle."
"Let's try another approach, shall we?"
I nodded.
She adjusted my chair into a reclined position, then sat beside me.
"Russell, do you feel lonely when you're alone?"
"Sometimes. When I have nothing to do."
"And how do you cope with that loneliness?"
"Games, movies, novels." Grinding stats in games, watching mob shootouts on screen, devouring crossover fiction like "The End of All Worlds."
"You live alone now?"
"Yes."
"Have you considered finding roommates? Or hiring staff to help at your reading room?"
"Is that your professional advice, Doctor Yao?"
"It is."
"…Then I'll consider it."
The conversation wound down.
"Would you like to rest a while?" she asked.
"Mhm." My voice slurred with weariness. I closed my eyes.
She rose, her footsteps barely audible as she left me drifting.
---
Was she the Ancient One?
Aside from her face, there was no evidence. Yet… she looked too much like her. Coincidence felt impossible.
A trace of fragrance teased my senses, cool and soothing. My fatigue melted, and doubt carried me down into sleep.
When I next stirred, she was there again.
Not Dr. Yao.
The Sorcerer Supreme.
The Ancient One.
She watched me with a wry smile, shaking her head. "Such an impatient little soul. Not even a month, and already restless."
Still, finding his way here… that was destiny.
With a gentle motion, she struck my chest. A ripple of unseen force blasted away the oily black fog clinging to my spirit.
"Next time, don't eat things you can't digest."
A golden ring of sparks flared into existence. She stepped through without a sound, vanishing from the room.
---
Energy to strengthen the body. Strengthened body to absorb more energy. And beyond that, the promise of transformation.
A fine talent indeed. Worth keeping under observation.
Her whisper lingered in the empty air:
"Will you be the better choice, Russell?"
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