In the large-scale dungeon world, every stage was connected.
What each Samsara experienced in the first stage—and the choices they made—would ripple into the second stage. The characters of the original plot still remembered them.
It was a paradox.
Every time, different Samsaras entered the dungeon, causing different impacts. And so, when the second stage arrived, the tasks of each Samsara naturally diverged.
"Your hero is back. Shouldn't there be some applause and a proper welcome?"
Fenric grinned at the Avengers before him.
The response was silence.
Everyone stared at him with guarded expressions—everyone except the Captain and Tony, whose faces showed far more open hostility. They all knew what Fenric had done.
"This stranger…" Tony's voice was the first to cut the silence, sharp and dismissive. "I don't recall inviting you."
In the years since New York, Tony had matured. The events of Iron Man 3 had sobered him, tempered his pride. But his grudge against the man who stole his armor had never faded.
The Captain stepped in, his voice steady. "If you return Tony's armor, I think everyone here will welcome you."
Fenric spread his hands with a casual shrug. "I'm afraid that's impossible. Tony, your suits were destroyed in battle while I was fighting aliens in space."
His tone softened, carrying a hint of mockery. "But don't worry—I'll make it up to you. Tomorrow, I'll gift you a large robot instead."
The fire source could only be used once every twenty-four hours, but Tony didn't know that.
Tony frowned, but he didn't push further. It was plausible that after so long, the suits had fallen apart. His focus sharpened. "Enough games. What are you really here for?"
"Can't a man sit down and have a drink first?" Fenric replied smoothly.
Everyone's eyes turned to Tony again, waiting for his judgment.
Banner, ever the peacemaker, cleared his throat. "Tony, I don't think he means harm. At the very least, he did save New York. Maybe we shouldn't be so hostile."
"My name is Ronan Anderson," Fenric interjected, smiling faintly. "Just call me Ronan."
Banner nodded. "Fine—Ronan. I don't sense any malice from him."
Tony fell silent. And silence, in moments like this, was as good as reluctant acceptance.
Natasha broke it by pouring a glass of wine and setting it in front of Fenric. "Ronan, sit. Just don't sit too close to the petty ghost."
Tony shot her a sharp look, but Fenric only chuckled.
"Thanks," he said, raising the glass before sitting down.
His gaze drifted to the table, where Thor's hammer rested in plain view. He asked knowingly, "So… what game were you playing just now?"
Natasha, seated beside him, leaned back. "Thor said that anyone who can lift his hammer is worthy to rule Asgard."
"Oh? Interesting." Fenric's lips curved. "Thor, mind if I give it a try?"
Thor remained composed. "Of course. Please."
Fenric approached, gripped the hammer's handle, and pulled.
It didn't move an inch.
Thor laughed heartily. "It seems you are not worthy!"
Fenric chuckled in return. "Indeed, your hammer is impressive. But…" He raised a hand, and in a flash, another hammer appeared—identical to Thor's. "I also have one."
The room fell silent.
The sight of two Mjolnirs left everyone stunned.
Thor's eyes narrowed, his tone measured. "A clever imitation. But my Mjolnir is unique."
Most of the others nodded, convinced it was a forgery.
"Is that so?" Fenric's smile deepened. He turned to Tony. "Tony, if I break something, don't be too upset. I'll pay you back."
Before Tony could respond, Fenric raised his hammer.
"Zzzzt!"
The electricity in the entire tower flickered, drawn toward the weapon in his grip. Outside, dark clouds began to gather. Thunder rumbled across the sky.
The Avengers' faces shifted from skepticism to shock.
They knew the true power of Mjolnir. And now, the replica in Fenric's hand was calling the storm just like the original.
"This is impossible!" Thor roared, his composure cracking. "Mjolnir is one of a kind! How can there be another?"
Fenric barely suppressed his laughter at the sight of Thor's disbelief. "I obtained this hammer from a collector. He had quite the arsenal of rare weapons."
"No… no, this can't be…" Thor muttered, doubt creeping into his very being.
The others exchanged wary glances. Fenric was already dangerously powerful. Now, with another Mjolnir in hand, he seemed all the more terrifying.
If he became their enemy, the consequences would be disastrous.
Fenric let the moment linger before casually dismissing the hammer into his personal space. It vanished instantly, as though swallowed by magic.
By now, none of them were surprised. Each Avenger had seen stranger things.
Tony's patience snapped. "Alright, little show-off. You've proven your point. Now tell us—what do you really want?"
Fenric's smile faded. His expression grew serious.
"When I was wandering the universe, I encountered a prophet. He told me humanity is about to face a fatal danger."
The words tightened the atmosphere.
Hawkeye leaned forward. "What kind of danger?"
Fenric's eyes shifted to Tony. "The danger… comes from him."
Tony snorted. "Don't you think that joke is a little stale?"
But Fenric's tone didn't waver. "Tell me, Tony—do you have an 'Ultron' plan? Are you building an artificial intelligence called Ultron?"
Tony stiffened. His gaze flicked instinctively to Banner. Only Banner knew of the plan, and he was Tony's partner in it.
Fenric pressed on, his voice cutting. "Stop it immediately, Tony. If you don't, the consequences for humanity will be catastrophic."
The Captain stepped in. "Hold on—what exactly is this Ultron plan?"
"I want to know too," Natasha added, her eyes narrowing on Tony.
Tony opened his mouth to respond—but before he could, a shrill noise pierced the air.
"Wheeeeeee!"
The sound was so sharp it rattled their eardrums.
And then, from the shadows, a battered, broken robot staggered into the room.