New York, United States - June 2008
Matthew was drinking coffee in his office, reviewing financial reports that he frankly didn't give a damn about but had to keep up appearances, when he felt something that made him freeze mid-sip.
A portal.
Not just any portal. A dimensional portal opening directly into his office, passing through all his magical defenses as if they were made of paper.
"Holy shit."
She carefully set down the cup, stood up, and watched as a circle of golden light materialized in the center of her office. Through the portal, she could see what looked like a Tibetan temple.
And then she appeared.
The Ancient One.
She was exactly as he remembered her from the movies: bald, dressed in yellow and brown robes, a presence that radiated power and wisdom accumulated over centuries. Her eyes, however, were the most unsettling thing about her. They looked right through him, as if they could see every secret he had kept for thirty-eight years.
"Matthew Harkness," she said in a calm, almost musical voice, as she stepped through the portal that closed behind her. "Or should I say... Emperor of the Underworld."
Matthew maintained his neutral expression, although internally he was recalculating all his strategies.
"Supreme Sorceress," she replied in a respectful but not submissive tone. "It's an honor. Although I must admit I'd prefer you make an appointment. My secretary is taking care of that."
The Ancient One smiled slightly.
"Forgive the intrusion. But when one detects a reincarnated god building a kingdom in the shadows, traditional diplomacy seems... inadequate."
"God reincarnated?" Matthew sat on the edge of his desk, crossing his arms. "That's a bit dramatic. I prefer 'guy with interesting powers.'"
"Modesty." The Ancient One walked to the window, looking out at the city. "Interesting. Most beings with your power level would be arrogant. But you... you've been hiding for almost two decades. Watching. Waiting. Why?"
Matthew studied her. This was a test. He knew how she worked. What he said now would determine whether the Ancient One saw him as an ally, a threat, or something in between.
"Because I learned something important," he finally said, deciding to go with honesty. "Gods who arrive shouting their power are the first to fall. Patience is more powerful than brute force."
"Wise." The Ancient One turned to look at him. "But that doesn't answer my real question. What do you want, Matthew Harkness? What is a reincarnated god of the underworld seeking in the Marvel Universe?"
Matthew felt that moment of tension. He could lie. He could give a vague answer. Or he could go all in.
He made a big bet.
"Revenge against the Olympian gods of another universe. But for that, I need to become invincible. And this universe..." he smiled, "this universe is my training ground."
The Ancient One raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised.
"Another universe. The Olympian gods." He processed that. "Interesting. So you're not a threat to this reality."
"Not directly," Matthew shrugged. "Look, I'm being honest with you. Yes, I have plans. Yes, I'm building power. But I don't want to destroy the Earth. I don't want to enslave humanity. I'm not that kind of villain."
"So what kind of villain are you?"
Matthew laughed.
"Who said I'm a villain? I see myself more as... a neutral player with long-term goals that will eventually take him out of this universe."
The Ancient One walked towards him, her eyes shining with that mystical power that made even Matthew feel nervous.
"I've seen millions of possible futures, Matthew. In some, you become the greatest tyrant this world has ever seen. In others, you're the savior who saves us from threats that even the Avengers can't handle. And in some..." he paused, "in some, you simply disappear one day and never return."
"And which of those futures are we in?"
"That," the Ancient One smiled enigmatically, "is the right question. And the answer is: it's not decided yet. Your will, your decisions, can change the course."
Matthew processed that. So the Ancient One wasn't here to fight. She was here to... what? Evaluate him? Give him a warning?
"Okay," he said slowly. "So, what do you want from me? That I promise to be a good boy? That I don't mess with reality? What?"
"I want you to understand something," the Ancient One moved closer, and Matthew felt the weight of her power. Not threatening, but definitely present. "I protect this reality. It is my duty, my purpose. And if you become a threat to it..."
"You're going to kick my ass," Matthew finished. "I understand. And I respect you for that. I really do."
"But," the Ancient One continued, "I also recognize that not all powerful beings are evil. Some are simply... complicated. So I offer you this: a deal."
"I'm listening."
"Do what you need to do. Build your power. Seek out your artifacts. Expand your influence. But if ever your actions threaten the fabric of this reality, or endanger millions of innocents, I will intervene. And I will not be merciful."
Matthew nodded slowly.
"That's fair. And what do I get in return?"
"My non-interference. And..." The Ancient One pulled something from her robes. It was a small book, bound in black leather. "This."
Matthew picked it up, immediately sensing the energy. The book vibrated with ancient power.
"What is it?"
"A grimoire about the Underworld across cultures. Written by sorcerers who studied death for millennia. I thought it might be useful to you."
Matthew looked at the book, then at the Ancient One, surprised.
Are you... helping me?
"I'm giving you tools," the Ancient One corrected. "What you do with them is up to you. But yes, in a way, I am helping you. Because I've seen futures where your power is needed. Where threats come that not even the Avengers can stop. And in those futures, we need someone like you."
"Someone who controls death," Matthew murmured, understanding.
"Exactly."
There was a moment of silence. Matthew processing, the Ancient One waiting.
"Okay," Matthew finally said. "I accept your agreement. I won't mess with reality. I won't unnecessarily endanger innocent people. And when the time comes, if you need me... just ask."
The Ancient One nodded, satisfied.
"Good." She opened another portal behind her. "One last thing, Matthew. In a few years, a man named Stephen Strange is coming to Kamar-Taj. He's arrogant, damaged, but he has the potential to be the next Sorcerer Supreme."
"And what does that have to do with me?"
"Nothing. Not yet. But someday, you two are going to have to work together. And when that day comes, I hope you can both put your egos aside."
Matthew laughed.
"Are you telling me I have an ego? I am humility personified."
The Ancient One looked at him with that enigmatic smile that said, "I know you're lying, but it amuses me."
"Take care, Matthew Harkness. And remember: power without wisdom is just destruction waiting to happen."
"Wise words from a wise woman," Matthew gave a small bow. "It was a pleasure, Supreme Sorceress."
The Ancient One stepped through the portal, which began to close. But just before it closed completely, Matthew heard her voice one last time:
"Oh, and Matthew... Jorgito alfajores are overrated. Havanna ones are better."
The portal closed.
Matthew stood there, staring into empty space, processing that the Sorceress Supreme of the Marvel universe had just made a comment about Argentinian alfajores.
"How the hell...?" he began to ask, then laughed. "He can see the past and the future. Of course he knows I'm a reincarnated Argentinian. Moron."
He looked at the grimoire in his hands. It was heavy, ancient, and he could feel the knowledge within.
"Well," he said to himself, sitting down in his chair and opening the book, "that was unexpected. But at least it didn't end in a fight. And I won a great book."
He began to read, and after the first page he knew this grimoire was going to change everything. It contained knowledge about how to access different Underworlds, how to navigate them, how to claim them.
"The Ancient One gave me the key," he murmured, smiling. "She gave me the fucking key to complete my kingdom."
Two Weeks Later - Matthew's Sanctum
Matthew had been studying the grimoire nonstop. He barely slept. He barely ate. He only read, practiced, and experimented.
And finally, he had done it.
He stood in the center of his ritual circle, the grimoire open on the floor in front of him, his tattoos glowing with an intensity he had never achieved before.
"Okay," he murmured, taking a deep breath. "Everything I've done in twenty years was preparation. This... this is real."
He raised his hands, channeling all his power. The shadows in the sanctum went wild, swirling, growing, filling the space.
And then, he spoke the words of the ritual. Words in a language that shouldn't exist, words that were more feeling than sound, words that resonated in the very fabric of reality.
The ground beneath his feet cracked. Not physically. Dimensionally.
And through those cracks, Matthew could see his kingdom. His Underworld. But it was no longer a realm of fleeting shadows. It was solid. Real. Tangible.
Black palaces stretching to the horizon. Rivers of violet energy flowing between impossible structures. A starry black sky with constellations that didn't exist on any human map.
And at the center of it all, visible even from here, is his throne.
Complete. Majestic. Waiting for it.
"I did it," Matthew gasped, falling to his knees from exhaustion but grinning like a madman. "I did it. My kingdom exists. My Underworld is REAL."
The cracks began to close, but Matthew knew he could now open them whenever he wanted. He could access his kingdom. He could rule from there.
And more importantly, he could begin to populate it.
"The dead are calling me," he murmured, closing his eyes and sensing the thousands of souls floating between worlds, lost, without direction. "The souls that find no peace. Those that cannot move forward. I can give them a home. I can give them purpose."
Not all souls. Only those who chose to come. Only those who wanted to serve. Because Matthew had decided something important: he would not be a tyrant like the gods he hated. He would be better.
"My kingdom will be a place of choice," he vowed. "No one will be forced. But those who come... will be part of something greater."
He stopped, still trembling but determined.
"The Ancient One gave me the tools. I did the work. And now..."
He looked towards where the portal to his kingdom had been.
"Now the real building begins. The real power."
"Because an emperor without a kingdom is nothing. But an emperor with a kingdom, with loyal subjects, with an army of souls..."
Her eyes glowed violet in the darkness.
"That emperor can change the universe."
That night - Penthouse Balcony
Matthew was back on his balcony, whisky in hand (he had earned the drink), looking out at the city.
A month had passed since Tony Stark had revealed himself as Iron Man. The world was changing. Fast.
"They'll find Thor soon," he thought, taking a sip. "Then the Avengers will form. The Battle of New York. Ultron. The Accords. The Civil War. Thanos."
"All those events are yet to come. And I'll be there for every single one."
"But not as they expect. Not as a frontline hero. Not as an obvious villain."
She smiled.
"Like the hidden player. The one who moves pieces from the shadows. The one who has his own kingdom, his own army, waiting for the perfect moment."
"And when Thanos comes with his Infinity Stones, thinking he's just going to snap his fingers and win..."
The smile grew darker.
"She's going to discover that there's someone in this universe who controls something that not even the Gems can touch: death itself."
"But that's for later. For now..."
He raised his glass towards the city, towards the universe, towards the destiny he was building.
"For now, I continue building. I continue waiting. I continue being patient."
"Because the Olympian gods of Saint Seiya taught me something important: those who rush, lose. Those who wait for the perfect moment..."
He took the last sip of his whiskey.
"Those are the ones who win."
The night stretched out before him, full of possibilities.
And Matthew Harkness, Emperor of the Underworld, Lord of Shadows, a god reincarnated with the patience of an Argentinian and the determination of someone who had died once and didn't plan to do so again...
I was ready for whatever came.
END OF CHAPTER