The meeting ends without ceremony.
One by one, the projected figures around the circular table dissolve into motes of pale light as the Akatsuki rings disengage. The room at Site‑01 becomes quiet again—too quiet, the kind of silence that follows decisions that will shape centuries.
I remain seated for a moment longer, hands resting on the smooth surface of the table, letting the weight of everything settle.
Infinity Stones.World conquest shelved—but not forgotten.Power balances, talent hoarding, immortality rationing.
This is what leadership actually feels like. Not glory. Not triumph. Responsibility sharpened to a blade.
A soft chime echoes in my mind.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION — NEW REPORT RECEIVED.
Doctor Jack Bright.
Of course.
I rise and walk through the inner corridors of Site‑01, layers of security opening silently before me. Runes glow faintly in the walls, interwoven with copper wiring and early electrical conduits—my designs, refined over years. Medieval stone hiding technology centuries ahead of its time.
I enter my private research chamber and summon the report.
It unfolds in the air before me: diagrams, notes, annotations written in Bright's distinctive mix of brilliance and barely restrained recklessness.
SCP‑914 — CLOCKWORKSPROJECT STATUS: ACTIVE
He's been busy.
Very busy.
The report details dozens of trials. Mechanical weapons refined into anomalous variants. Armor that adapts to incoming force. Tools that reshape themselves based on intent. Even mundane objects—coins, cups, simple blades—transmuted into items that defy physics when passed through Fine and Very Fine settings.
He did not create living anomalies.
Good.
Bright knows where the line is. Or at least… he knows where my line is.
I skim faster, my enhanced cognition absorbing everything effortlessly. Failure rates. Stability curves. Energy residue patterns. One section catches my attention—anomalous laser rifles refined from early gunpowder weapons. The energy source is self‑sustaining but volatile under prolonged use.
Promising. Dangerous. Perfect.
At the end of the report, Bright has left a personal note.
Request permission to begin trials on living organisms (non‑sapient). Hypothesis: SCP‑914 refinement may enhance biological resilience, regenerative capacity, or anomalous adaptation.
I consider it carefully.
This is a threshold moment. Once we involve life, even animals, SCP‑914 stops being just a machine that improves tools. It becomes something closer to a god‑forge.
But avoiding that path forever is unrealistic.
I sign the authorization.
APPROVAL GRANTED.CONDITIONS:• Non‑sapient animals only• No primates• Full termination protocols• No Very Fine setting until further notice
The signature seals itself in Foundation cipher.
Doctor Bright will be thrilled.
That alone is slightly worrying.
With that handled, I turn to my own work.
The Nine Realms.
The alignment is coming.
I know this much with absolute certainty: the Reality Stone—the Aether—is not on Earth right now. It exists in a fractured pocket dimension, accessible only when the barriers between realms weaken. In the Marvel timeline, this convergence is rare and brief.
Miss it, and the opportunity may not return for centuries.
My original plan was to invent the technology needed to detect spatial distortions. Under normal circumstances, I could. With enough time, I could design instruments sensitive to dimensional shear, sub‑space resonance, and reality instability.
But time is the one thing I don't have.
The alignment is close.
So I do something pragmatic.
I open the System Shop.
The interface blooms before me, vast and impossibly deep—items, technologies, talents drawn from worlds far beyond this one.
I filter by Detection → Spatial / Dimensional / Cosmic.
Several options immediately stand out.
I purchase three devices without hesitation.
• Dimensional Fracture Scanner (Advanced) — Detects fluctuations in local reality constants.• Sub‑Space Harmonic Resonator — Maps overlapping dimensional frequencies.• Cosmic Alignment Predictor — Calculates convergence points between realms and higher planes.
The system points vanish.
The devices appear in the air before me, solidifying with a soft hum.
I don't waste time marveling.
I activate them.
The room fills with layered projections—grids of space folding into themselves, invisible lines made visible, reality peeling back just enough for me to glimpse its seams.
And then—
There.
A distortion.
Not violent. Not chaotic.
Subtle. Ancient. Like a scar in the universe that never fully healed.
My breath stills.
"This is it," I murmur.
The readings confirm it. A realm‑divide thinning, localized but growing stronger. Not yet open—but it will be.
I overlay astronomical data, ley‑line convergence, and mythological records.
The location resolves slowly.
Northern Europe.A place that will one day be called London.
I feel a thrill ripple through me—pure, electric anticipation.
The Reality Stone is close.
Not in this world—but close enough to touch soon.
I immediately begin drafting orders.
Ashoka will need to prepare cover stories.Julius will need containment forces on standby.Darius will want eyes everywhere.Cleopatra will demand cost projections.Bright will want to poke it with something.
And I?
I will go personally.
Some things are too important to delegate.
As I shut down the scanners, I feel the familiar hum of power within me—magic enhanced by knowledge, knowledge sharpened by the system, all of it focused toward a single point.
The Foundation was created to secure anomalies.
But the Infinity Stones?
They are not anomalies.
They are the rules of existence given form.
And soon—
One of them will belong to us.