As Su Ming bent over, sifting through corpse fragments, he nearly lost his footing.
Not from the bug's struggles—Stranglehold had it pinned so tightly it might as well have laid a carpet for its host.
A strange, unfamiliar sensation hit him, overwhelming his entire being.
It came from nowhere, like an electric current or a ripple, sweeping through the universe and touching everyone.
The X-Metal in his body buzzed, the intense resonance nearly throwing Deathstroke off balance.
"Did you hear that?"
He immediately queried Stranglehold, the most vibration-sensitive part of him. If the X-Metal truly stirred, the symbiote, linked through his spine, would feel it.
But the armor's head shook. Stranglehold sensed nothing.
Su Ming didn't think it was a hallucination. Sure, Cthulhu-style monsters could drive people mad, but not him.
If the vibration wasn't physical, could it be energetic?
"Monarch?"
"Here. What's up?"
"Nothing. Catch."
No need to ask further. The mage, riding his horse and staring down the tunnel, showed no reaction, lost in thought about what lay deeper.
The bug's gut held no clues. Su Ming picked out a relatively intact demon horn and tossed it to Monarch.
An alchemical ingredient, valuable in magical circles. Couldn't let the mage work for free every time.
Returning to his armor, Stranglehold enveloped him again. He drew his weapon and casually slew the bug.
White, pulpy blood sprayed him, but Stranglehold absorbed it, leaving the armor gleaming.
"Something's off. Something just happened in this world."
"We didn't notice anything, boss."
"That's the problem."
Only X-Metal, the DC Universe's primal and unique energy, reacted. Even Su Ming couldn't fully grasp its capabilities.
He used it like a battery, powering gadgets or repairing damage—primitive, like giving a caveman a gun he swings as a boomerang.
"Too many things have been off. We're likely caught in a conspiracy. Stay sharp."
The trio halted. Su Ming eyed the bug's corpse, deep in thought.
Beyond the enemies' unclear motives, one thing nagged him while he was inside the bug.
Odin's behavior.
It was wrong. Less like avoiding conversation, more like dodging something. That final tear gave Su Ming chills.
He'd sensed the anomaly then but kept quiet, wanting to gather all clues for preparation, not tipping off that he'd spotted the threads.
Zemo's actions were off too. Strangling the Norn's neck was unnecessary—Hydra operatives weren't that frivolous.
His escape after the Hell trip was a test for Heimdall. Odin vanishes to Hell, and Heimdall doesn't question Monarch or Garth, the witnesses? He should've summoned them to the Rainbow Bridge for interrogation.
Too much weirdness. This Asgard trip, most characters seemed possessed by something uncanny.
Ronan, Malekith, Mephisto—their actions aligned with Su Ming's expectations. Thor, Loki, and Gullveig seemed normal enough.
That was it for normalcy in this saga.
"Garth?"
"Here."
"Has Asgard ever been haunted?"
"Uh, haunted how? Poltergeist stuff?"
"Like inexplicable, unnatural events, phenomena defying explanation."
"Hm, in my memory, plenty of weird things have happened. Bizarre riddles, wild rumors. But in Asgard, it's not about sheet-covered ghosts—it's usually tied to Loki or Amora."
"Got it. That makes sense. Good job, Garth."
Su Ming closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly. He hadn't considered that angle, but Garth's names clicked it into place.
Garth didn't grasp what her boss understood, but seeing she'd helped, she gave a reserved smile.
"Pull back. Finding Balder's pointless. We can't follow someone else's story anymore."
Su Ming transformed Godslayer into a drill, boring upward. The Serpent was a mirage; he'd been chasing a fabricated mission.
Ancient One hid things, for reasons unknown. From the start, she'd pushed for Su Ming to become Supreme Sorcerer.
Their first meeting in New York's sewers was normal—a dimension's guardian meeting an uninvited guest.
But later, her attitude flipped 180 degrees. When Su Ming brought Holloway to Kamar-Taj, she named him her heir.
Shouldn't it have been Holloway? He was the closest to Doctor Strange Su Ming could imagine.
New York's top surgeon, free of rigid morals, driven to protect and help others, even resembling Strange, down to the mustache.
Yet Ancient One didn't choose him. Didn't even speak to him.
If history followed its course, Strange would've gone to Kamar-Taj, become her apprentice, and inherited the mantle.
Holloway, nearly identical, was ignored?
To Su Ming, Holloway outshone Strange in courage and conviction. Strange often gave up or acted irresponsibly.
Holloway had magical talent—Monarch and Hamir confirmed it. If he pursued magic, his achievements would surpass his medical feats.
But Ancient One fixated on Deathstroke, even with a Strange-like figure before her.
The only explanation: she saw something in the future via the Time Stone.
She'd said she couldn't see Su Ming's fate, but she could see everyone around him, deducing his role.
This wasn't her first omission. It wasn't just wizardly mysticism—she didn't act without purpose.
The Time Stone made her more goal-driven than anyone.
But why? Su Ming didn't get it. Would him becoming Supreme Sorcerer benefit the world?
He knew himself—mostly a self-serving pragmatist, not wholly without responsibility, but could he protect the main dimension, Earth?
Recalling DC… yeah, he could. Despite selfish motives, he'd saved Earth in the end.
That realization didn't thrill him. It felt like Deadpool hitting the supermarket and accidentally saving the planet.
Dramatic, story-like. And "story" was the word Su Ming loathed most now. Every world seemed to script him.
"…What's Loki thinking?"
Emerging from the drilled tunnel, Stranglehold flicked off debris. Su Ming sighed. If Loki meddled in his past, everything around him was a knot tangled by Loki and Kang.
Unlike Kang, who split into countless selves across time, unafraid of death, Loki was a sticky candy—kill him, he'd revive, carrying last life's memories, continuing his plans.
Killing sometimes worsened things.
Su Ming knew the God of Stories; Loki's tale was legendary in comic circles. Encountering it caught him off guard.
The timeline felt wrong.
But then, wasn't he an external factor too? This world was already altered.
A god who dies, lives, dies again, mucking timelines and scripting others—tricky.
Facing the God of Stories was like a dog biting a turtle—no grip. Was your past shaped by him? How deep?
Erasing him now—would it unravel the stories of Su Ming's past, altering what happened?
Since the God of Stories used "story" as his board, Su Ming would target the story itself.
In Chinese, "story" means past events. In English, it's close to "history."
A story needs time, place, characters, and events—its four elements.
Disrupt one, and the story changes.
Like Deadpool or Cable, tweaking timelines—one with a grin, the other stone-faced.
They did similar things. Cable killed dozens of his alternate selves. Deadpool fought himself across time, unable to die.
X-Men, too, meddled with timelines, thanks to Xavier's teachings.
He thought preempting events was clever, but the cons outweighed the pros.
Su Ming disliked timeline interference—it tangled too much. But now, faced with it, he wouldn't back down. He was done acting in Loki's script.