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Earth-2149 — Ruins of New York City
The city that had once been the beating heart of civilization now lay silent beneath a sky the color of ash.
Towering skyscrapers stood like burned-out candles, their steel skeletons warped and blackened. Cars lay abandoned at intersections, half-melted by plasma fire or fused into rubble. Wind pushed scraps of paper and plastic down empty avenues where laughter and traffic once reigned.
Among the ruins walked Nolan, his cloak rippling in the stale air.
From his chest, the Eye of Agamotto pulsed with emerald light, guiding him toward a faint, hidden signature.
"If this universe had its own Strange," he murmured, "then the New York Sanctum should still exist somewhere beneath the rot."
The artifact's light shifted, forming a trail through the debris. Nolan stepped through a shimmering portal, and the stench hit him instantly, iron and decay.
Bodies. Hundreds of them.
Mages, acolytes, and civilians gnawed, broken, or torn apart by claws. The marble floors were slick with blood turned to tar.
With a gesture, Nolan released a wave of cleansing energy. The corpses crumbled into dust, clearing the way. He advanced into the inner sanctum, a space that seemed to stretch endlessly yet folded into itself like a paradox.
At the center waited a single chair.
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"...You came."
The voice was hoarse, hollow.
Nolan circled the chair and froze.
Doctor Stephen Strange, or what remained of him, sat slumped beneath a veil of shadow. His skin was gray, torn in places, and the faint glow of corrupted runes pulsed beneath the flesh. His eyes were milky white, yet behind them burned intelligence.
"Sit," the zombie sorcerer rasped. His lips cracked into a grotesque smile. "You've traveled far, Supreme Sorcerer."
Nolan didn't hesitate. He pulled a second chair from the air and sat across from him. "You could've stopped this," he said quietly. "With your power, this world could've been saved."
Strange's chuckle was like broken glass. "You think I didn't try?"
Nolan's eyes narrowed. "Then why didn't you finish it?"
"Because the game was never mine to finish," Strange said, leaning back. "You've already guessed the truth, haven't you? Watcher intervention."
Nolan's expression darkened.
Strange continued, "The outbreak wasn't an accident. The Watchers designed a loop—a temporal recursion between two mirrored universes—to contain the infection. Each world absorbs the other's timeline endlessly, ensuring the virus never spills into the greater Multiverse."
He gestured weakly, and a glyph projected above them: two universes spiraling around each other, connected by green and blue nodes—the Time Stone and Space Stone at the nexus.
"The virus Magneto brought back wasn't just biological," Strange said. "It carried what we call a quasi-singular force—a self-replicating anomaly, nearly unique. Not a being. Not magic. A concept. It can't be erased from existence, only looped, quarantine.
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Nolan's brow furrowed. "You mean it's a cosmic constant—like entropy."
"Exactly." Strange nodded. "A manifestation of decay. When Magneto crossed universes, he pulled a splinter of that force into this reality. It adapts. It infects gods, mutants, celestials—it doesn't care. It is corruption, wearing biology as a costume."
He sighed. "That's why the Watchers and I built the loop. Two universes, endlessly devouring and rebirthing one another. The infection dies with one, then begins again in the next. Contained forever. Or so we hoped."
Nolan's tone was sharp. "You sound like you've given up."
"Not given up," Strange said bitterly. "Accepted. There's no cure for a concept."
Nolan stood, eyes glowing. "Then maybe it's time someone rewrote the concept."
That made the undead sorcerer pause.
His rotted fingers drummed against the chair arm. "You speak as though you have something the Multiverse doesn't."
"I do." Nolan's voice dropped to a steady calm. "A singularity of my own. A power the system calls 'Self-Evolution.' It's unique across every reality. A true constant."
Strange's ruined face twitched. "You… possess uniqueness?"
Nolan nodded once. "The virus can't consume what it can't replicate. If its infection represents infinite decay, then my evolution represents infinite adaptation."
For the first time, a flicker of hope crossed the zombie sorcerer's dead eyes.
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"You could end it," Strange whispered. "If you can override the infection's singular state… you could rewrite its foundation. The Watchers tried to cage the disease. You could erase its reason to exist."
Nolan stepped closer, meeting his decaying counterpart's gaze. "Then tell me how the loop sustains itself."
"The loop's anchor points are the Time Stone and Space Stone," Strange replied. "They're woven into a dual lattice that forces both universes to reset whenever entropy peaks. Every iteration erases memory, data, and consciousness except for those of us bound to the Stones."
"How many cycles has it been?" Nolan asked.
Strange's voice was barely a whisper. "So many I've forgotten what sunrise feels like."
Silence lingered between them two sorcerers from different worlds, one living, one cursed, both carrying the weight of creation.
Then Nolan said quietly, "If I can rewrite the code of the infection, I can break the loop. Free both universes."
Strange tilted his head. "If you fail, the infection won't just escape—it'll spread to every reality."
Nolan's expression hardened. "Then I don't fail."
For a long moment, the two sat in the dim sanctum, the faint hum of the Eye of Agamotto filling the silence.
Finally, Strange smiled a thin, weary curve of cracked lips.
"Then maybe," he murmured, "we were just waiting for you."
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