Chapter 124 - Chapter 124: The Triangle of Light

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Chapter 124: The Triangle of Light

According to the deployment plan, the part that George needed to complete himself was finished, and Ryan would handle the rest.

That day, George was in the lab with Dr. Erskine, working on a serum experiment, when Monday's voice rang out: "Master Orwell, the monitoring system detected that the military has transferred equipment from Blanklin's lab."

"Oh? Who exactly moved it?" George asked, setting down the test tube and glancing toward the corner camera.

"It was the military, Master Orwell," Monday confirmed.

"Hmm. Alright. I understand," George replied, voice calm.

Dr. Erskine looked over, frowning. "What are they up to now?"

"What else? Trying to replicate your experiment," George said. "Even though the last vial shattered, there's still trace residue. Add in one successful live subject—those vultures couldn't resist."

George gave a dry chuckle. "Dr., you want to bet HYDRA already has your data?"

Dr. Erskine looked stunned. "That's... impossible."

"Nothing's impossible. You'll see many more unbelievable things before long," George said flatly.

"Sir, we have to stop them. Otherwise—"

George held up a hand. "Don't worry. You need to have faith in your own work. The Super Soldier Serum isn't something you can just whip up. I've already made arrangements."

Dr. Erskine exhaled. "We absolutely cannot let HYDRA succeed."

"Honestly, I'm more concerned about Howard Stark. That man's not to be underestimated. If anyone can get close to replicating the serum, it'll be him."

—

A few days later, George learned through back channels that the U.S. military had recalled over 300 Black soldiers for serum experimentation.

The serum didn't just rely on Erskine's formula—it also included Howard's vita-ray process. Without both, replication was near impossible.

But George didn't care. He had already taken the entire pot. Let them scrape the bowl.

Recently, Erskine had made progress using samples from George's blood. He had a new modification path to pursue. During this phase, George's assistance wasn't needed, and with no intention of interfering in World War II, he decided it was time to enter the next world.

He wrapped up his Marvel-universe tasks, left a clone behind to handle communications, and—after informing Alice of his 'closed-door seclusion'—checked his gear and teleported into the Room of Requirement.

Holding a palm-sized badge marked with an eye, George stepped into the circle. In a flash of light, he reappeared outside a castle.

He looked up. An old manor. The teleportation usually dropped him near the core of the plot.

When he reached the gate and saw the sign: Croft Manor, he knew he was right where he needed to be.

This was the Tomb Raider world. Lara Croft's world.

She wasn't just an archaeologist—she was a bruiser. Skilled in hand-to-hand, guns, driving, parkour, escape... You name it. Her father had been a British noble and a legendary explorer, too, before dying under strange circumstances. He'd left Lara billions and a house full of secrets.

One of them was a timepiece he'd brought back from an old tomb. A clock—one that would turn out to be a key.

The legend went like this: when nine stars aligned, a gateway through time would open. Whoever held the Triangle of Light could reverse time itself. That triangle had been forged from a fallen meteor's metal centuries ago.

With its power, a group known as the Cultists of Light built a city at the crater site, worshiping the artifact and mastering time magic. Naturally, things went to hell. Magic corrupted, and the city was wiped out.

The survivors broke the triangle in two and hid the pieces across the world.

Now, the alignment was returning. And a group called The Illuminati was racing to find the pieces.

George knew where the key was. But since it was sealed inside a wooden box within a clock in Lara's house, using "Accio" felt cheap. Besides, robbing the U.S. Treasury was one thing—stealing from a beautiful woman was another.

He preferred a cleaner approach. There'd be plenty of chances.

"Monday, connect to local networks. Give me the date," George said to his wristband as he walked toward the forest.

"Local time is May 15, 2001," Monday replied.

"Perfect. Now we wait."

George set up camp in the woods—army tent, mattress, utensils, wineglass. From his lounge chair, he raised a hand, and a filled glass floated to him. He took a sip, then cast his perception toward the manor.

He watched as Lara discovered the sealed clock, broke it open with her friend's help, and pulled out the compass. Not subtle—but very on-brand.

She didn't know what it did yet. She hopped on her motorcycle and bolted toward London.

George, satisfied, withdrew his awareness. He didn't need every detail.

—

The next evening, rain poured. George had packed early and now waited near the road between Croft Manor and the city.

At 8 PM, three black Ford cars sped past. George, hidden behind a tree, went unnoticed.

In his perception, a squad led by a Black man broke into the manor.

The gate was open, but rigged with sensors. Lara's system picked them up. Inside, though, the team was distracted.

Lara, mid-workout, noticed the alert and launched herself up to a chandelier.

Three attackers crashed through the ceiling. One met her eyes and fired. Lara dodged, and the fight began.

She downed several of them and rushed to the armory—but the attackers didn't care about her. They wanted the compass.

By the time she returned, it was gone.

—

Outside, the mercs loaded into their cars.

"Mr. Pym," the lead called over the radio, "We've secured the target."

"Good. Deliver it. Don't get tailed. The boss will reward you."

They sped toward town, laughing, celebrating.

They didn't notice the man standing ahead in the rain.

George raised both hands. Space shattered like glass.

By the time the drivers reacted, the lead car smashed through the veil—and into the Mirror Dimension. The rest followed.

George stepped in behind them.

Inside the dimension, the road bent endlessly. George waved. The two cars slammed into each other.

He walked to the wrecks, grabbed the case, and pulled the compass from within.

The Black team leader reached for a gun.

Two bombs appeared in George's hands.

He tossed one into each vehicle.

Before the explosions, George blinked out of the Mirror Dimension.

Let them die quickly. It was kinder than leaving them trapped to starve.

He didn't care about the Illuminati waiting for their report.

—

The next morning, George stood in a Cambodian ruin. A unique jasmine flower grew nearby—confirmation that he was in the right place.

He scanned the ground. A hidden chamber pulsed below.

He teleported down.

Four lights floated from his fingers, revealing the enormous stone chamber. A high platform stood at one end. On it, an eight-armed stone god held weapons, including a sword and a glass jar full of green water.

On the floor, beneath the statue, was a large circular mechanism—identical to the compass.

George floated the sword from the statue's grip and slid it into a groove.

Then he approached the wall opposite the statue. A shallow recess waited.

Below it, carved in ancient script:

When iron returns to stone, the celestial wheel turns. Water dissolves light. Power is yours, but cursed shall you be.

George gave a half-smile. Predictable. He already knew the trick.

Now, he just waited.

—

Meanwhile, Powell and the Illuminati were panicking. Their team hadn't reported back. Powell assumed Lara had taken the compass.

He didn't have time to mount another assault, so he doubled down: full surveillance on Lara.

Let her lead them to the triangle.

Lara, meanwhile, got a lawyer's letter. Her father's will, in which Inside was the truth.

The compass mattered.

She called a military friend, hitched a ride on a U.S. transport plane, and headed to Cambodia.

Powell tracked everything as he took a private jet.

At the temple entrance, the two sides met awkwardly. Lara's ex, Alex West, stood among Powell's men.

Guns went up.

Lara dove behind a boulder.

Powell yelled, "Hold fire! Lower your weapons!"

Then to Lara: "Let's cooperate. We both want the triangle. You've got the key, but we've got the manpower. You won't reach it first without us."

Lara stood slowly, pistols drawn. "Your people stole the key yesterday. Why fake niceties now?"

Powell froze. "What?" He turned to his men. "They didn't return? Then there's a third party. Shit. Get the explosives!"

"Yes, sir!"

Men rushed to pack explosives into the boulder cracks.

Lara glanced at Alex. "So. You here for tourism?"

He shrugged. "Work."

"Business first, huh?"

He chuckled. "Do we have to fight every time we meet?"

"Boom!"

The explosion rocked the clearing.

Dust rose. Powell's men surged in. Lara wasn't far behind.

The moment they entered the tomb, the room stopped them cold.

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