Chapter 822

Why had this happened?

After eliminating several highly questionable possibilities—such as the Ancient One suddenly suffering a stroke in the middle of battle, deliberately throwing herself off the arena in some elaborate insurance scam, or Evenson somehow jinxing her so catastrophically that his bad luck actually killed her—he was left with only one explanation.

The Ancient One had wanted to die.

It was simple, really.

If someone wanted to die, then by definition they no longer wanted to live.

Evenson simply couldn’t understand it.

He loved being alive.

One life had never felt like enough. If there were an extra life bar, a resurrection stone, a spare soul, or some other ridiculous safety net available, he’d take it without hesitation.

Even having his head stomped on by the Eredar Twins on a regular basis had never made him think, You know what? Death sounds pretty good right now.

Apparently, not everyone had the same enthusiasm for survival.

And just as you couldn’t wake someone who was pretending to sleep, there was no saving someone who had already decided to die.

Inside the hospital, Stephen Strange was doing everything in his power to keep the Ancient One alive.

Doctors crowded around the operating table, working frantically to reduce intracranial pressure, administer adrenaline, and stabilize her vital signs.

Then the Ancient One’s soul simply left her body.

Strange stared.

"What are you doing?"

She was dying, yes, but she wasn’t dead yet!

There was still time!

And as far as Strange knew, Death hadn’t come to collect her soul. So why was she voluntarily leaving her body?

Was she in a hurry?

Was she trying to beat the line at the afterlife?

"Come back!" Strange shouted.

"You’re dying!"

Unfortunately, shouting at a disembodied soul wasn’t especially useful when you didn’t know how to perform a summoning ritual.

So Strange had only one option.

He left his own body behind and pursued her in spirit form.

He was a doctor.

Until a patient had been officially declared dead, his duty was simple: keep trying.

No matter who the patient was.

No matter how he felt about them.

He had to save them.

But the moment Strange entered the spiritual realm, the world around him seemed to freeze.

The passage of time became almost imperceptible.

The Ancient One stood quietly beside a floor-to-ceiling window, gazing outside with a peaceful smile.

The Ancient One wasn’t an emotionless woman. She smiled from time to time.

But Strange had never seen her smile like this.

There was no weight behind it.

No calculation.

No responsibility.

Just genuine happiness.

"Please."

Strange hurried toward her.

"You’re about to die. You have to return to your body. There’s not much time left."

The Ancient One didn’t move.

Instead, she calmly began explaining something to him.

"Time is relative."

She looked out at the city.

"You still haven’t grown accustomed to being a sorcerer. I’ve lived for a very long time. Throughout those years, I’ve stopped countless disasters."

She paused.

"But disasters never stop coming. One follows another. Again and again."

Strange stared at her.

"So you think you should die now?"

He was shocked.

Yet as he considered her words, he slowly began to understand.

The Ancient One’s body might have remained healthy, but her soul was exhausted.

She had lived for more than a thousand years.

She had lived since the age of Celtic legends.

As a young woman, she had possessed ambition and dreams of building a kingdom. She had watched that kingdom eventually crumble, in part because of her own decisions.

Century after century, she had watched the world change.

She had watched everyone around her grow older.

Then die.

Again and again.

The only constant had been herself.

And throughout all those centuries, she had carried the responsibility of protecting reality.

Every day.

Every hour.

Always cautious.

Always vigilant.

Always walking along the edge of a cliff, knowing that one mistake could cost countless lives.

Once she had accepted that responsibility, she had never truly lived for herself again.

It had simply gone on for too long.

To everyone else, she was the Sorcerer Supreme—the most powerful sorcerer on Earth, the woman who could command the respect of an entire order with a single word.

But beneath that title was simply a woman imprisoned by responsibility.

Imprisoned by the need to always do what was right.

Perhaps only death could finally free her.

Evenson would probably understand that reasoning.

Well... perhaps not entirely.

There were already two people in his household who were over ten thousand years old—

Nope.

That comparison didn’t count.

The Eredar were naturally long-lived beings who were practically immortal.

Their relationship with death was fundamentally different from that of a human being who had lived for centuries beyond any normal lifespan.

Besides, they were demons.

They had never taken responsibility seriously enough to become exhausted by it.

Their philosophy was simple.

If they could beat you, they enjoyed crushing you.

If they couldn’t, they ran.

If they couldn’t run, they surrendered and then enjoyed whatever dangerous double-cross happened afterward.

Life was fun.

Being alive was fun.

Being alive for a very, very long time was even better.

The idea of finally having enough of it was completely foreign to them.

"I never wanted to draw power from the Dark Dimension," the Ancient One continued.

"And I never wanted to use forbidden knowledge."

She turned toward Strange.

"But sometimes people have to break the rules to pursue what they believe is a greater ideal."

Strange fell silent.

He finally understood.

Earlier, he had condemned the Ancient One as a hypocrite without knowing the whole story.

That judgment suddenly seemed incredibly unfair.

Yes, the Ancient One had drawn power from the Dark Dimension.

But she had never used that power to benefit herself.

Even if she had prolonged her own life with it, perhaps she had done so because she feared what would happen to the world after she was gone.

It wasn’t simply arrogance.

It wasn’t that she believed nobody else was worthy of protecting Earth.

How could she know whether someone else could handle the responsibility without actually testing them?

And this wasn’t a video game.

There was no save file.

No reload button.

If she handed the job to someone who failed, there might not be another chance.

Strange also understood something else.

Looking at Kaecilius and what the Dark Dimension had done to him made the Ancient One’s sacrifice even clearer.

She had spent centuries resisting exactly the temptation that had consumed him.

She had effectively taken the curse of the Dark Dimension onto herself so that the rest of the world wouldn’t have to.

She had carried its darkness alone.

What right did anyone have to condemn her for that?

Strange sighed.

"Mordo probably won’t understand any of this."

The Ancient One shook her head.

"Mordo is rigid by nature. His upbringing made him that way. He doesn’t know how to adapt."

She looked at Strange.

"But you do."

"You’ve survived adversity, and you know how to move forward even when the path changes beneath your feet."

This was why she had wanted to speak with Strange one last time.

She had trained many disciples throughout her life.

Very few had truly impressed her.

Kaecilius had fallen.

Mordo was too rigid and extreme to reach his full potential.

She couldn’t allow Strange to waste himself as well.

And she had learned from her own mistakes.

Long ago, when she had still been young and struggling to build her kingdom, she had believed in an almost absolute form of solitary leadership.

Even after becoming the Sorcerer Supreme, she had maintained that habit.

She kept every secret buried inside herself.

She rarely shared her doubts.

She assumed that because her decisions were correct, everything would eventually work out.

And she had foolishly believed that intelligent people around her would understand her intentions without needing an explanation.

They hadn’t.

She had only succeeded in hurting herself and everyone around her.

If she had spoken openly with her knights back then, perhaps her kingdom could have remained united.

If she had told them about her burdens and secrets, perhaps they could have helped carry them.

If she had explained the truth to Kaecilius from the beginning, perhaps he would never have fallen.

If she had been honest with Mordo from the start, perhaps he could have accepted reality instead of feeling betrayed by it.

But she hadn’t.

She couldn’t change the past.

She could, however, avoid repeating the same mistake at the very end.

The Ancient One looked directly at Strange.

"You must defeat Dormammu."

Strange’s expression tightened.

"But I’m not ready."

He had barely begun his training.

He was one of the newest recruits at Kamar-Taj.

He hadn’t fought monsters.

He hadn’t leveled up.

He hadn’t accumulated years of practical experience.

And now his mentor was telling him to go fight the final boss of reality?

Even video games didn’t throw the tutorial character into the endgame dungeon like that.

Unless—

Unless she’s got some legendary pay-to-win artifact waiting for me.

"Regardless of how much preparation you make," the Ancient One said, "when darkness arrives, you will always feel unprepared."

"We cannot control the world."

"So we must always be ready."

Strange quietly nodded.

Then the Ancient One added something that caught him off guard.

"If you have the opportunity in the future, you should speak with Evenson more often."

"I will."

Strange was surprised by the suggestion, but he agreed.

"I don’t mean asking him to treat your hands."

The Ancient One immediately saw what he was thinking.

"Evenson isn’t actually a member of Kamar-Taj."

"He and I belong to different organizations. His magic comes from an entirely different tradition."

"We are allies."

Strange blinked.

"Really?"

He had never known that.

Evenson had been wandering around Kamar-Taj for so long that Strange had naturally assumed he was some kind of third-in-command.

"But he seems..."

"Like a bad person?"

The Ancient One smiled.

"Yes."

"He isn’t a good person."

"The magic he uses is so dark that calling it black magic would almost be flattering him."

"He is cunning. His tongue is sharp. And when necessary, he can be utterly ruthless."

Strange frowned.

"But?"

"But the enemies he fights are even more frightening."

"That is why he has to break rules that other people can afford to follow."

"And that is also why he mocks you whenever you hesitate."

"To him, hesitation is weakness."

"Enemies stronger than Dormammu?"

Strange’s expression changed.

"There are enemies stronger than Dormammu?"

"The Burning Legion."

The Ancient One’s voice became serious.

"They are a demonic army that has ravaged countless worlds."

"I’ve never encountered them personally, but Evenson has told me enough about them. I’ve also gathered information through my own channels."

"As for how they compare to Dormammu..."

She paused.

"Dormammu is only a pawn."

"The forces behind him are comparable to the Burning Legion."

"And Earth..."

"We are simply mortals caught between two giants."

Strange grimaced.

So the gods were fighting, and ordinary people were going to suffer for it.

What a miserable reality.

"But perhaps this is fate," the Ancient One continued.

"I oppose the forces aligned with Dormammu."

"Evenson opposes the Burning Legion."

"Our two organizations happen to operate on Earth."

"Perhaps that is precisely why Earth has a chance to survive between them."

Strange stared at her.

This world was far deeper than he had imagined.

If he hadn’t learned any of this, he thought, perhaps losing the use of his hands would have been a blessing.

At least ignorance had been peaceful.

"There is one more thing."

The Ancient One’s expression became unusually serious.

"You cannot completely trust Evenson."

"Under any circumstances."

Strange raised an eyebrow.

"He has a habit of convincing other people to charge into danger while he stays somewhere safe and handles the problem afterward."

"I’ll admit that you may be more intelligent than he is."

"But you’re inexperienced."

"That makes you vulnerable to someone who knows exactly how to exploit your blind spots."

Strange didn’t believe it.

Me?

Easily manipulated?

He’d spent half his life dealing with difficult people.

His intelligence had gotten him this far.

There was no way Evenson could simply talk circles around him.

Still, he respected the Ancient One enough to ask.

"How much contact should I have with him, then?"

"That’s for you to decide."

The Ancient One smiled faintly.

"But I can give you a shortcut."

"A shortcut?"

"Master Clea."

The name immediately brought a face to Strange’s mind.

The woman who had once occupied the second position at Kamar-Taj.

He knew very little about her.

They rarely interacted.

"Master Clea has Evenson wrapped around her finger."

"She may be his only real connection to Kamar-Taj."

"So you should always treat her with respect."

"She’s also extremely capable. When important matters concerning Kamar-Taj arise, consult her."

"And when she gives you advice..."

The Ancient One paused.

"Think very carefully about it."

"I understand."

Strange nodded.

Something about the way she had phrased that made him suspicious.

So basically, she’s leaving me a regent.

He knew almost nothing about how Kamar-Taj worked yet. If Clea understood the organization better than he did, listening to her was probably sensible.

For now.

Once he learned the ropes, he could finally take full control.

What Strange didn’t realize was that the Ancient One had something much more specific in mind.

If Clea ever came to him with a proposal like Let’s hold a comic convention at Kamar-Taj, he needed to think very, very carefully before agreeing.

"That’s everything I needed to tell you."

The Ancient One turned toward the window again.

Then she reached out and took Strange’s hand.

"It’s beautiful."

Lightning flashed across the distant horizon.

But time was moving so slowly that the bolt seemed almost suspended in the sky, as though an invisible painter were slowly drawing it across the heavens.

"Death gives life meaning."

"It reminds you that time is short."

"I’ve spent so long protecting the world that I never had time to appreciate how beautiful it could be."

Strange found himself drawn toward the view.

He turned toward the window.

The sight was breathtaking.

Then he felt the Ancient One release his hand.

Strange turned back.

She was gone.

At the same moment, the Ancient One’s body finally died.

Strange knew what had happened.

His mentor—the woman who had changed the course of his entire life—had entered eternal rest.

She had finally laid down the enormous burden she had carried for centuries.

The responsibility of protecting reality no longer belonged to her.

It belonged to him.

From this moment onward, he would have to carry it.

Strange felt his shoulders become noticeably heavier.

Then he glanced down.

"Oh."

His crimson cloak had wrapped itself around him.

"...Right."

"Moira. It’s me."

In the hospital parking lot, Evenson held a phone to his ear.

"Write down this address. I have a job for you."

He gave her the hospital’s location.

"Bring a team here immediately and retrieve a body."

"Female. Caucasian. Over forty. Bald. Green eyes. Death caused by a high-impact fall."

"You’re coming under the authority of the Black Chapter."

"Take the body directly."

"Don’t sign anything. Don’t file a record."

"And don’t tell me it’s against regulations. Your clearance is more than sufficient to handle this."

"Move quickly. I can’t guarantee that no relatives will show up to claim the body."

"When you get back, deliver her directly to Dr. Helen Hailun."

"Her Biological Cradle is going to be getting a lot of use."

Evenson ended the call.

He lit a cigarette.

Then he produced a large soul crystal and tossed it lightly into the air.

He caught it again.

"Honestly..."

He exhaled a stream of smoke.

"Are you serious?"

He looked at the crystal.

"Do you have any idea how many disasters this world is going to face?"

"And you choose this exact moment to decide you’re done with life?"

"I support retirement, by the way."

"According to labor law, you’ve been eligible for retirement for several centuries."

"You could probably collect your pension until the Social Security Administration itself goes bankrupt."

"But this whole ’I want to die’ attitude?"

"I have reservations."

"So..."

He flicked the cigarette between his fingers.

"You can just wait for reemployment."

Evenson took two more drags, crushed the cigarette, and tossed it neatly into a nearby trash can.

He looked at the soul crystal again.

"Actually, I’m being ridiculous."

"I know you can’t hear me."

"Once you’ve become a soul crystal, you’re unconscious. You can’t see anything. You can’t hear anything."

"It’s basically death."

"And yet I’ve spent all this time talking to you anyway."

He shrugged.

"Maybe that’s not such a bad thing."

"For now, take some time to experience what death feels like."

"Think of it as a long vacation before you come back to work."

"Rest."

"Relax."

"Recharge."

Evenson smiled faintly.

"After all, I’m not a monster."