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[Am I dreaming?]
Nick Fury rubbed his eyes in disbelief, and then witnessed a scene he would never forget for the rest of his life.
The room before him suddenly transformed into a series of interlocking gears.
The gears rotated endlessly, spreading throughout the entire room in an instant.
Nick Fury—codenamed "the One-Eyed Man"—was the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and one of its greatest agents. His abilities, eyesight, and mental fortitude were all exceptional.
Even when confronted with something completely beyond imagination and common sense, he still maintained his composure, his expression as dark and calm as ever.
After all—
He was a man who had gone to space.
In this world, there was nothing he feared.
Once this mission was over, he was going home to pet his cat.
Fury instantly reached for his waist, pulled out a handgun, and agilely leapt to the side, attempting to dodge the rapidly spinning gears.
By all normal logic, his reaction was perfectly correct.
Because no matter how one looked at them, those gears appeared unbelievably strange and suspicious.
But what Fury didn't expect was that the moment he jumped—
He actually stepped onto thin air.
Fortunately, his physical conditioning and reflexes were still top-tier.
He abruptly thrust one leg forward, braced himself, and managed to wedge both feet against opposite sides of the cracked floor, barely stabilizing himself.
However, Fury's face immediately went from dark to deathly pale.
Why?
Because everyone knew—
The wider the split became, the harder it was to maintain the pose.
Even worse, the crack in the ground kept widening, forcing Fury's legs farther and farther apart.
Hidden in the shadows while controlling everything, Rimuru's eyes widened in amazement as he instinctively gave Fury a thumbs-up.
As expected of the director of S.H.I.E.L.D.
The man's flexibility was incredible.
Just as Rimuru was admiring Fury's physical dexterity, he suddenly heard a sharp whistling sound.
A grappling hook abruptly shot out from Fury's belt.
The hook instantly latched onto the ceiling, suspending Fury in midair.
Seeing this, Rimuru wasn't particularly surprised.
As an elite agent, carrying a few wall-climbing gadgets was perfectly normal.
Rimuru casually waved his hand.
In the next instant, the world flipped upside down.
The floor became the ceiling.
The ceiling became the floor.
The unlucky braised egg who had barely escaped disaster moments ago slammed directly into the "new ceiling."
Bang!
Fury's eyes nearly rolled back as he inhaled sharply in pain.
His poor old back!
First the floor had come alive and turned into spinning gears.
Now the floor and ceiling had suddenly switched places entirely.
What kind of cursed nonsense was this?!
Some things could be endured.
Other things absolutely could not!
Newton, wasn't gravity supposed to protect people?!
Why weren't you stepping forward to explain this?!
But this was no time to think about physics.
The priority now was escaping this damned house.
Despite everything, Fury still didn't dare go through the front door.
Instead, he lunged directly toward the glass window, intending to smash through it and escape outside.
And then—
The braised egg became even more confused.
The moment he leapt forward, before he could even touch the glass, the window itself split open automatically.
It was as though some demon lurking in the darkness had already opened its jaws wide, patiently waiting for him to throw himself inside.
Even stranger—
In his panic, Fury somehow tripped over his own left foot and crashed face-first through the opening.
The exact same window.
Why did it suddenly feel so malicious?
After enduring endless suffering and smashing his nose badly enough to make it bleed, Fury finally breathed a sigh of relief.
He had escaped the cursed house.
Even more shocking, he could see Coulson and the other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents hidden nearby in the darkness, quietly waiting for him.
At that moment, Fury was so emotional that his eyes nearly became moist.
It was too difficult.
Surviving was simply too difficult.
Not long ago, Coulson had been demoted after repeatedly failing missions involving Rimuru and the Iron Man scandal.
Nick Fury had already decided that after returning, he would place greater responsibilities on Coulson and transfer him back into the core division.
As for the other agents, they could also be trusted with important assignments.
But no matter what—
A director's dignity could never collapse.
He, Nick Fury, the legendary one-eyed king of agents, still needed to maintain his image!
Fury calmly pulled out a white handkerchief and wiped away the blood from his nose and mouth in one second.
In three seconds, he straightened his black trench coat.
In ten seconds, he adjusted his eyepatch perfectly.
Blood could flow.
Heads could roll.
But the eyepatch—the soul of the outfit—must never be damaged!
A few seconds later, everything was flawless once again.
He—
Nick Fury.
Handsome.
Mysterious.
King of agents.
Nick "Braised Egg" Fury—
Had returned.
Cough! Cough!
Fury coughed violently a few times and made several "He's here" hand signals toward his subordinates.
And then—
After exhausting himself posing dramatically, Fury was shocked to discover that Coulson and the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were completely ignoring him.
Didn't they hear him?
Nick Fury was deeply dissatisfied.
He had made so much noise, yet not a single agent reacted.
As agents, these incompetent rookies still had a very long way to go!
Cough! Cough! Cough!
Another violent fit of coughing erupted from Fury's throat.
Still—
No response.
At that moment, even someone as composed as Fury realized something was wrong.
Limping slightly, Fury walked toward Coulson's car, only to discover something horrifying.
Not only Coulson—
None of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents could see him at all.
Fury conducted several quick experiments.
To his horror, he discovered that everything in the world seemed completely normal—
Except nobody could perceive him.
Even when he viciously kicked Coulson several times, his foot passed straight through Coulson's body.
Coulson himself felt absolutely nothing.
What the hell?!
Had Nick Fury somehow died without realizing it?!
Was he a ghost now?
Otherwise, how could nobody see him while he remained completely isolated from the world?
Only one explanation made sense.
A soul.
Only a soul could explain all this.
But then—
How exactly had he died?
Fury fell into deep despair as he carefully recalled every detail.
Yet no matter how hard he tried, he could not remember when or how he had died.
To this day, Nick Fury still had no idea what had actually killed him.
Wait.
If he really was dead—
Would death feel this painful?
His entire body ached terribly.
If he were truly a spirit, there was no way he should still feel pain.
Then were Coulson and the others fake?
Had he become the last human left on Earth?
But none of this fit science.
Nor did it fit theology.
He had to be dreaming.
A dream?
Suddenly, Fury's eye lit up.
"That's right… what kind of dream is this?"
He quickly found a spinning top.
With a flick of his fingers, the top began spinning across the smooth floor.
But to Fury's astonishment—
After only a few seconds, the top stopped spinning.
"…What?!"
How could the top suddenly stop?!
Fury felt like his brain was about to explode.
What exactly was going on?!
Since Coulson and the others were still waiting here…
Would this mysterious place eventually erase his very existence as well