The woman Evenson had spent the past month desperately wanting to see had finally returned.
And she terrified him.
He had fallen backward so fast that he was still sprawled behind a chair in an undignified heap. Tony’s comforting conclusion that Clea had probably dumped him had barely settled his nerves before reality came crashing back.
His heart lurched into his throat.
Cold sweat ran down his back.
His imagination instantly filled with every nightmare imaginable.
Relationship disasters.
Jealous lovers.
Violent confrontations.
He even found himself remembering the infamous cautionary tale of Makoto Itou.
"...No."
Evenson shook his head hard and climbed to his feet.
His situation wasn’t that bad.
First, there were only... two...
He paused.
Actually...
Never mind.
More importantly, Clea had disappeared without leaving any way to contact her. Then New York had been invaded by aliens, he’d nearly died, and somewhere in the emotional wreckage afterward, he’d made a terrible decision.
Surely...
Surely that qualified for extenuating circumstances.
After repeating that argument to himself several times, he finally managed to stop his legs from trembling.
Clea, meanwhile, wasn’t interested in whatever crisis was unfolding inside his head.
She strode straight over, grabbed his wrist, and started pulling him toward the door.
That instantly shattered all of Evenson’s carefully reconstructed confidence.
"W-Wait!"
He stumbled after her.
"Clea... just listen to me for a second. I can explain..."
Then he suddenly stopped.
His eyes narrowed.
"...Hold on."
He looked her up and down.
"That outfit..."
Instead of her usual casual clothes or anime-themed hoodies, Clea now wore flowing yellow robes beneath a hooded cloak.
The attire looked unmistakably familiar.
Evenson’s expression slowly stiffened.
The sorcerers he’d spent so much effort avoiding...
...dressed exactly like that.
"Kamar-Taj?"
He asked the question cautiously.
The hidden sanctuary beneath the Himalayas.
Home of Earth’s mystic defenders.
Seat of the Sorcerer Supreme.
If Clea truly belonged to that world...
She would know the name.
Deep down, Evenson desperately hoped he’d misunderstood.
Maybe she’d simply discovered some fantasy series he’d never watched and decided to cosplay a character.
Unfortunately...
Clea nodded.
"You... you’re one of them?"
Evenson unconsciously took a step backward.
"Yes."
She answered without hesitation.
His face darkened.
"So you’ve been watching me this whole time?"
His fist slammed down onto the counter with a loud crack.
He wasn’t angry because she’d seen his secrets.
While they’d been together, he hadn’t done anything he was ashamed of.
No...
The thought that truly frightened him was another one entirely.
Had that entire month been a lie?
Every conversation...
Every late-night gaming session...
Every laugh...
Every moment they’d shared...
Had it all been nothing more than surveillance?
"No!"
Clea immediately stepped forward.
"It wasn’t like that."
She looked directly into his eyes.
"I didn’t know who you were before I left."
"Our time together wasn’t fake."
Evenson stared at her.
"...Really?"
His voice came out quieter than intended.
Please.
Even if it’s a lie...
Just tell me it’s true.
"It is."
Her answer came without hesitation.
She grabbed his hand again.
"But there’s no time to explain."
"Your identity has been completely exposed."
"You have to leave."
She looked anxiously toward the street.
"The Sorcerer Supreme is coming."
Since the Battle of New York, Clea had barely slept.
She still couldn’t reconcile two completely different images of the same man.
The awkward, kind-hearted gamer she’d slowly fallen for...
...and the terrifying black warlock whose power had shaken an entire battlefield.
Before she’d even managed to process that revelation, the Sorcerer Supreme had announced that, once recovered, she would personally deal with Evenson Richter.
Clea had witnessed Evenson’s strength firsthand.
She had watched him turn the tide against the Chitauri.
But in her heart...
No one surpassed the Sorcerer Supreme.
To every disciple of Kamar-Taj, the Ancient One stood little short of divine.
If those two met...
What would happen?
Would Evenson be executed on the spot?
Would his magic be stripped away before he spent the rest of his life imprisoned?
The thought refused to leave her.
She had grown up believing one absolute truth.
Black magic was evil.
Black warlocks deserved to be destroyed.
Yet every memory she had of Evenson contradicted that lesson.
He had never murdered innocents.
He had never abused his power.
Most of the time...
He was simply an absurdly entertaining idiot.
And during the Battle of New York, he’d fought without hesitation to protect the city.
People had even begun selling replicas of the robes he’d worn during the battle.
He had become a genuine superhero.
The thought almost made her smile.
Almost.
Instead, she made her decision.
Whatever misunderstanding existed...
She would protect him until it could be cleared away.
So she had come first.
Before the Sorcerer Supreme could.
"The Sorcerer Supreme..."
Evenson quietly repeated the title.
He had known this meeting was inevitable.
"Exactly."
Clea tightened her grip on his arm.
"So we have to go. Right now."
"No."
Evenson gently pulled free.
A faint smile crossed his face.
"She’s not coming."
He looked toward the front door.
"She’s already here."
Clea’s eyes widened.
She spun toward the street.
Everything looked normal.
The same buildings.
The same storefronts.
The same road.
Except...
Every pedestrian had vanished.
Not one remained.
Her breathing caught.
A Mirror Dimension.
No...
Something even larger.
The entire neighborhood had been shifted into a separate space.
Only one person alive possessed that level of mastery.
A moment later, a bald woman dressed in robes nearly identical to Clea’s stepped quietly through the entrance.
She appeared to be somewhere in her forties.
Calm.
Serene.
Completely unremarkable.
Until one looked into her eyes.
"The Sorcerer Supreme..."
Evenson met her gaze.
"The Ancient One."
"I’ve been wondering when we’d finally meet."
"I just didn’t expect it to happen so soon."
The Ancient One smiled gently.
"So my arrival doesn’t surprise you."
"Not really."
Evenson shrugged.
"I made quite a spectacle of myself during the Battle of New York."
"If you hadn’t come..."
"...that would’ve been the real surprise."
Before the Ancient One could reply, Clea hurriedly stepped between them.
"Sorcerer Supreme!"
She bowed quickly.
"Please listen to me."
"Evenson isn’t an evil person."
"He..."
"The power he wields is."
The Ancient One interrupted calmly, though the warmth had vanished from her voice.
"It is among the darkest forms of magic I have ever witnessed."
"Evil?"
Evenson gave a dismissive shrug.
"Maybe."
His eyes never left hers.
"But can you really claim the moral high ground?"
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"The power you draw from the Dark Dimension..."
"...isn’t exactly pure either."
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