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"So..."
Rosh lifted his porcelain cup and took another slow, deliberate sip. He let the liquid sit on his tongue for a second, trying to find whatever deep flavor he had just been pretending to enjoy a moment ago.
'Nope. Still tastes exactly like warm water.'
He calmly set the cup back down onto its saucer with a soft click before looking up at the Sorcerer Supreme. "You brought me all the way to Kamar-Taj just to drink warm water and make small talk?"
The Ancient One smiled faintly, a look of pure, unbothered amusement dancing in her eyes. "Does there need to be some grand, world-ending reason?" She lightly tapped the side of her teacup with a fingernail. "You are a traveler from another universe, and I happen to be the host of this one. As the host, inviting a guest over for a drink seems like the proper thing to do. There is no need to make something so simple unnecessarily complicated, Manager Rosh."
Rosh paused for a beat, letting her words sink in before giving a slow nod.
Honestly? That answer actually made sense. After speaking with her for this long, he had already come to a pretty solid conclusion. The Ancient One wasn't secretly setting a trap for him. She wasn't testing his morality through some elaborate, multi-layered scheme either. She was just being completely, authentically herself: calm, patient, and surprisingly hospitable.
With that sudden realization, the last lingering bits of caution between them quietly faded into the background. The atmosphere in the sunlit room became noticeably more relaxed, the heavy tension completely evaporating.
The Ancient One took another sip of her tea before continuing, her eyes shifting to a deeper, more serious shade.
"To be completely transparent with you... The moment your presence entered this universe, I immediately opened the Eye of Agamotto. I needed to examine the countless possibilities that could unfold now that someone like you was walking our streets."
Rosh listened quietly, leaning back slightly.
"I traced..." She paused briefly, letting the weight of her words hang in the air. "...one hundred and ninety-four trillion possible futures."
Rosh's hand paused halfway to his lap. For the first time in a very long time, he nearly lost his stone-cold poker face.
'One hundred and ninety-four trillion?!'
Even for someone as cool and collected as him, that number was an absolute jump scare. That was a mind-boggling, brain-melting amount of data. In the original timeline, Doctor Strange had only looked at fourteen million futures to find a way to beat Thanos, and that had looked exhausting. How did her brain not literally turn into mush processing that much cosmic information?
The Ancient One, however, spoke about it as if she were just discussing a casual weekend forecast. She calmly dropped those terrifying words without her expression changing even a fraction of an inch. Then, she smiled.
"However..."
Rosh instantly locked his focus back onto her. He knew the real meat of the answer was coming now. In any conversation with a powerful entity, whenever the word "however" was dropped, everything said before it was just the warmup.
"The destructive outcomes were a very small minority," the Ancient One continued, her gaze never wavering from his. "And after examining those terrible futures more closely, I noticed a very specific, very interesting pattern."
She gently rested her teacup back on the low table.
"Almost every single disastrous timeline shared the exact same root cause. They weren't caused by you acting out of malice or trying to destroy the world on your own. They happened because someone else chose to interfere with you first."
She took a short breath, letting the revelation sink into the quiet room.
"People like Kaecilius. Arrogant forces who tried to forcibly seize your Devil Fruits, or corrupt organizations that tried to shut down your business. They forced a conflict with you that otherwise would have never happened, and the resulting fallout dragged the entire world down with them. In other words, Manager Rosh... the greatest disasters I witnessed weren't created by your existence. They were created by those who were stupid enough not to leave you alone."
The room fell completely silent once again.
Rosh leaned back against his cushion, a massive wave of clarity washing over him. It all made perfect sense now. For the past two years, he had occasionally wondered why the mystical protectors of Earth hadn't come banging on his storefront door to shut him down.
They hadn't been ignoring him out of ignorance. The Ancient One had simply already checked the future. As long as nobody foolishly poked the cosmic merchant, the future was overwhelmingly in humanity's favor.
"To put it simply..." The Ancient One smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "You're actually a very easy person to read, Manager Rosh."
Rosh raised an eyebrow, letting the comment hang in the air without interrupting her.
"What just happened with Kaecilius only proves what I've already been seeing in the timelines," she continued, her voice light but steady. "As long as nobody goes out of their way to mess with your storefront, you have zero interest in playing god or getting tangled up in the chaotic politics of this world. You aren't hunting for ultimate power. You aren't trying to build an empire. You don't even try to manipulate world governments. You're perfectly content just staying in your little shop, living your life, and making your sales."
Her serene expression didn't change, but her voice suddenly took on a much firmer, sharper edge.
"But... the very millisecond someone threatens one of your paying customers, or tries to put a dent in your business? Your response is absolute. You don't make compromises. You don't sit down at a negotiation table, and you definitely don't hand out second chances or friendly warnings. You simply erase the problem from existence."
Rosh shrugged, flashing a helpless grin. He couldn't even pretend to argue with her logic. She had hit the nail right on the head. His personal code of ethics had always been incredibly straightforward: Don't touch my store, and I won't touch your world. It was the ultimate mind-your-own-business policy.
The Ancient One watched him for another long beat, the steam from her tea swirling gently between them.
"And while we've been sitting here chatting, I've picked up on something even more fascinating about you." This time, there was a spark of genuine, almost childlike curiosity buried deep in her ancient eyes. "You clearly come from a completely different reality. And yet... it seems this world has completely validated your existence."
Rosh tilted his head, a bit intrigued. "Validated? Meaning what, exactly?"
"The literal will of this universe," she explained, nodding gently. "See, every reality possesses its own version of a primal instinct. Think of it like a human body. When a piece of foreign bacteria or a rogue virus slips inside you, your immune system immediately sounds the alarm. It recognizes that this thing doesn't belong here. It tags the invader, hunts it down, and does everything in its power to flush it out. Universes operate on the exact same wavelength."
She traced the smooth porcelain rim of her cup with a single finger.
"When an entity from another reality forces its way into this one, the universe naturally flags them as an anomaly, an outsider. It quietly throws up a wall of passive resistance against their very presence. It's a cosmic friction that regular people can't even begin to perceive, but it's always there, grinding away at the intruder."
Rosh nodded slowly, following her train of thought. "So, under normal circumstances, the universe should be treating me like a foreign infection."
"Exactly," the Ancient One said, leaning in slightly. "But that friction is completely gone. For reasons that even I can't fully wrap my head around, this reality is no longer rejecting you. It has completely absorbed you into the fabric of its space-time. It recognizes you as one of its own."
Rosh blinked, a sudden wave of dark humor washing over him. "So, what you're saying is... I've basically been whitelisted by the universe's security system?"
A genuine, soft laugh escaped the Ancient One's lips. "That is... actually a surprisingly perfect way to put it." She shook her head, a rare look of bafflement crossing her features. "The strange part is, I have absolutely no idea how you pulled it off. By every ancient rule and law of magic I have ever studied over the centuries, what you've done should be flat-out impossible."
Rosh kept his mouth shut, maintaining his perfect, unbothered exterior. But deep inside his mind, the puzzle pieces instantly snapped together with an incredibly satisfying click.
'Luck! It had to be the Luck.'
Ever since he started operating in his new location, he had been systematically siphoning and collecting massive amounts of Luck from the absolute VIPs of this universe. He had subtly intertwined his own path with the heavyweights of reality, people like Steve Rogers and May Parker. Their stolen Luck hadn't just boosted his stats or made him physically stronger. It had literally woven his soul into the very threads of this reality's destiny.
Without even actively trying, he had slowly bled out his 'outsider' status. The universe hadn't accepted him because he forced it to with raw power or flashy spells. It had accepted him because his fate was now completely inseparable from the fate of the world itself.
"So..." A slow, genuine smile spread across Rosh's face, his eyes flashing with a touch of dry humor. "Does that mean I'm officially off the hook? No longer flagged as an extra-dimensional threat to humanity?"
He couldn't help but find the whole situation incredibly amusing. Getting a cosmic green card from the universe's ultimate border patrol wasn't exactly how he expected his afternoon to go.
The Ancient One gave a soft, elegant nod. "It is an extremely unusual case," she admitted, her voice tinged with a rare hint of wonder. "In fact... in all my centuries of life, I have never encountered anything quite like it before."
Even after hundreds of years spent guarding Earth from the deepest, darkest corners of the multiverse, this was her very first time witnessing an outsider integrate so seamlessly into the fabric of reality.
"But yes," she continued, her tone firm and leaving zero room for doubt. "As things stand right now, you are no longer recognized by the system as an extra-dimensional anomaly. You belong here."
To say this conversation had been a win for Rosh would be a massive understatement. This was a far greater victory than it appeared on the surface.
As long as he was recognized as a natural part of this universe's order, Kamar-Taj had absolutely no jurisdiction over his business. The Ancient One's sole, sacred responsibility was to protect Earth from outside, reality-shattering threats. She wasn't a cosmic babysitter, and she certainly didn't micromanage humanity's internal affairs.
Whether Earth's empires rose or crumbled, whether world governments thrived or fell, or whether society completely transformed because of his Devil Fruits, those were local issues. They belonged to the people of this world to figure out. They didn't belong to Kamar-Taj.
Rosh had never really viewed the Ancient One as an immediate, ticking threat to his life. Even so, knowing that one of the absolute strongest entities on the planet was no longer quietly stalking him from the shadows lifted an invisible, suffocating weight right off his shoulders.
Let's be real, having someone who can peer into countless trillions of futures, keeping an eye on your every move, is a massive buzzkill. But now? That annoying little security camera in the sky was officially turned off.
The conversation had fully achieved its purpose, and the Ancient One wasn't the type to drag things out unnecessarily. True to her effortless nature, she gracefully stood up from her cushion, her mustard-yellow robes settling around her.
"It seems our little discussion has come to a natural end," she said softly, raising her right hand.
Brilliant orange sparks blossomed into the air once more, spinning rapidly until they wove together into another flawless, circular gateway. Through the rings of fire, the sleek, high-tech interior of Rosh's shop cut through the mystical vibe.
"This will take you right back home."
Rosh stood up, smoothing down his clothes, and offered her a deeply respectful nod. "Thank you for the tea, and thank you for the clarity."
The Ancient One smiled warmly, her eyes full of ancient peace. "I wish your business continued success, Manager Rosh."
With a light chuckle, Rosh stepped firmly through the portal. The quiet, incense-scented wooden room of Kamar-Taj dissolved behind him in a flash of heat.
The very next instant, his boots hit the spotless, polished floorboards of the Home of the Devil Fruits. The bright, modern LED lighting, the sleek glass shelves, the automatic sliding doors, everything was exactly as pristine and quiet as he had left it.
But the quiet didn't last long.
Almost the exact second his physical form stabilized, his monitor screen interface lit up like a Christmas tree. Notification after notification flooded his line of vision in a frantic, non-stop waterfall of chats.
The premium customer network, or rather the Devil Fruit Family, was in absolute, unadulterated chaos.
Ever since Kaecilius had snatched the Devil Fruit users, a massive wave of panic had rippled through the superhero community. S.H.I.E.LD., and every high-profile client on his roster was losing their minds. Out of pure respect for Rosh's power, they had stopped spamming his personal inbox, but the collective public chat network was practically melting down from the sheer volume of frantic messages.
Nobody knew what had happened in London. Nobody knew if their missing friends and comrades were even alive, or if they had been turned into dark magic puppets forever.
The entire world was frozen, waiting for just one thing: a single, definitive announcement from the owner of the Home of the Devil Fruits. Only Rosh had the power to put their minds at ease.
Rosh didn't waste a single second sorting through the endless avalanche of unread pings. Instead, he swiped past the public noise, opened the encrypted Devil Fruit Family channel, and dropped a single, official statement to freeze the panic in its tracks.
Manager: "Everyone, take a breath. There's no need to panic."
Manager: "The faction responsible for targeting our members has been completely neutralized. The threat is officially gone."
Manager: "The mastermind behind the kidnappings was a rogue mystic named Kaecilius, a former trainee of Kamar-Taj."
Manager: "His end game was to siphon Devil Fruit abilities, brainwash the users, and build a proxy army capable of tearing down Earth's mystical Sanctums."
Manager: "Danny Rand, Colleen Wing, and Trish Walker were among those taken during the raid."
Manager: "As of a few minutes ago, Kaecilius has been permanently dealt with. Every single captured customer has been successfully recovered and accounted for."
The exact millisecond the text hit the server, the entire chat network absolutely lost its mind. The heavy, anxious silence that had hung over the group for hours shattered instantly as a tidal wave of replies flooded the UI.
Wade Wilson: "LET'S GOOOOOO!! That's my Manager! Cue the heroic background music and the dramatic wind machine!"
Wade Wilson: "The poor spicy-eyed bastard probably thought he was setting up a massive, multi-issue crossover event, only to get absolutely deleted before my dramatic third-act monologue even cleared the draft phase!"
Wade Wilson: "I literally told you guys! Rule number one of the Universe: Never. Mess. With. The. Store. Manager Rosh doesn't do corporate negotiations with lifestyle-brand thieves!"
Wade Wilson: "Somewhere out there in the multiverse, Kaecilius is definitely sitting in a cosmic waiting room filling out a 1-star Yelp review titled: 'Reasons Why I Should've Just Stayed My Ass in Bed Today.'"
True to form, Wade immediately unleashed a relentless, non-stop wall of text that showed absolutely no signs of slowing down. Rosh stared at the rapidly scrolling text for a flat second, completely unbothered, and silently tapped the 'Mute User' button.
There was absolutely no point in trying to keep up with that level of chaotic energy.
Before the chat could get completely derailed by mercenary spam, a much more frantic message popped up at the bottom of the feed.
Maya Hansen: "Manager, is Trish really okay? I've been pinging her comms for hours, and she hasn't responded to a single text! I'm freaking out here!"
Rosh calmly tapped out a reply, his steady tone bleeding through the screen.
Manager: "She's fine."
Manager: "Every recovered client is physically safe and stable."
Manager: "They are currently grounding themselves back in London."
Manager: "During the initial ambush, Kaecilius's strike team systematically crushed all their standard tech and communication devices. That's the only reason they've been off the grid."
Manager: "There is zero reason to worry. The situation is fully under control."
It took less than three seconds for Maya's typing indicator to flash and disappear.
Maya Hansen: "Oh thank god..."
Maya Hansen: "I was honestly starting to prepare for the absolute worst."
Maya Hansen: "Thanks, Manager. Seriously. I can finally force some air back into my lungs."
With those final words, the thick, suffocating tension that had gripped the entire superhuman underground for hours finally began to bleed away. One after another, messages of pure, profound relief filled the interface.
The dark cloud of fear and paranoia that had left everyone looking over their shoulders since the disappearances completely evaporated. To say Rosh's word was absolute law inside the Devil Fruit Family would be a massive understatement. It was more like a universal constant. If the Manager said someone was safe, they were safe. Period. There was no second-guessing, no reading between the lines, and absolutely zero room for doubt.
Maya Hansen trusted him implicitly. And honestly? She was far from the only one.
Over the past two years, Rosh had built a legendary, ironclad reputation. The guy simply didn't do hype. He never exaggerated his wins, and he never made empty promises to keep people happy. Whenever he said he was going to take care of a problem, it was as good as done. Every. Single. Time.
That unwavering, rock-solid reliability had gradually become the literal anchor for the entire superhuman community. The exact second his announcement cleared, the collective anxiety suffocating the chat vanished into thin air. The frantic typing stopped, the wild conspiracy theories died out, and the entire network finally let out a massive, shared sigh of relief. The crisis wasn't just managed; it was completely over.
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Meanwhile, thousands of miles away inside the sleek, sterile walls of the Triskelion, the high-tech headquarters of S.H.I.E.L.D., Natasha Romanoff sat in the dim light of her office, silently staring at a top-secret report glowing on her monitor. Her eyes narrowed into tiny, sharp slits as she skimmed the data over and over again.
'He found them.'
'He tracked down a dangerous, completely off-the-grid faction of rogue sorcerers that our entire global apparatus couldn't even get a ping on... and then he systematically erased the entire organization from the face of the earth.'
'And he pulled it all off in less than twelve hours.'
Even for a seasoned super-spy like Natasha, the reality of the situation was an incredibly bitter pill to swallow. The more she picked apart the incoming satellite data, the more absurd it became. For weeks, S.H.I.E.L.D. had been burning through massive amounts of cash, throwing every piece of manpower and cutting-edge tech they possessed at the kidnappings.
And the grand total of all that coordinated global effort? Absolutely nothing. They had been blindly chasing ghosts in the dark.
But the exact second the Home of the Devil Fruits decided to handle it? The entire mystery was solved before dinner time. Kaecilius was a memory, the hostages were safely recovered, and the organization responsible had been entirely wiped off the map, leaving behind zero loose ends for the world to worry about.
Natasha slowly leaned back in her leather chair, running a hand through her hair as a heavy, complicated expression crossed her face.
The brutal truth hit her right in the chest. The massive gap between S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Home of the Devil Fruits wasn't just a matter of who had better efficiency, a larger budget, or more high-tech gadgets. The two organizations weren't even playing the same sport. They operated on completely different planes of existence.
There was no comparing them. The divide wasn't just wide; it was a total reality check for the world's premier spy agency. It was the difference between ordinary people killing themselves trying to fix a problem... and an apex force so powerful that the problem simply ceased to exist the moment he looked at it.
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Next Chapter: The Luck of a Future Captain America
Next Next Chapter: Sam Wilson's New Wings
Next Next Next Chapter: Rosh Sets His Sights on the Stars
Visit my P@tr3on or K0‑fi ''Isopuff'' page and unlock +20 extra chapters and daily updates!