The Ancient One shook her head.
"Time is relative. You still haven't learned how to be a proper sorcerer."
She gazed out the window just as a bolt of lightning appeared—but its movement was slowed to a crawl, like a snail. Every intricate detail of the lightning could be seen clearly.
"I have spent a long time peering into the future, observing countless points in time. I have stopped disasters that could have destroyed Earth over and over again. But danger never ceases—it always comes again. Everyone dies eventually… myself included."
She turned to look at Strange. There was no sorrow on her face at the brink of death—only calm and acceptance.
"Do you want to know your future, Strange?"
The question came out of nowhere.
"No. I don't."
Strange shook his head.
The Ancient One suddenly smiled, her gaze carrying a hint of amusement.
"I cannot see your future. I can only glimpse certain possibilities. You are kind… and exceptional. But your drive to succeed doesn't come from desire—it comes from your fear of failure."
"I'm a successful doctor."
Strange replied, pride evident in his voice.
"And that is why you are not yet great."
She lifted her head, as if trying to trace the path of the lightning.
"Your arrogance and your fear of failure blind you to the simplest—and most important—things around you."
"And what would that be?"
Strange pressed, sensing deeper meaning in her words.
"The meaning of life is not about the self. When you first came to me, you asked how I healed Pangborn—the man with the spinal injury. But the truth is, I didn't heal him. I never treated him at all."
She revealed the truth.
"He drew power into himself… the power of magic."
"He's been walking using magic this whole time?"
Strange was stunned.
"That is the truth. Just like you, he once faced a choice—return to his old life, or devote himself to a greater purpose."
The Ancient One revealed this now to see what Strange would choose.
Like Pangborn, would he become a sorcerer—or return to his former life?
"Then… my hands can be healed too?!"
Strange had always believed his hands were beyond saving. Even after learning magic, they hadn't improved—he thought it was impossible.
Now he realized… he had simply been using the wrong approach.
"Of course. You can return to your old life. But the world… will be left with regrets."
She looked out the window again.
She was gambling—betting that Strange would not turn back.
"I never wanted to draw power from the Dark Dimension. But sometimes, one must break the rules. Blindly clinging to them is not always right."
"But Mordo doesn't see it that way."
Strange followed her line of thought.
"Mordo is rigid—unable to adapt. That comes from his upbringing. But you… you are flexible. You can go against the current."
"But I… I'm not ready…"
Strange hesitated. He still hadn't made his choice.
The Ancient One smiled.
"No one is ever ready. We cannot control the world. All we can do… is follow its flow."
She reached out and took his hand.
"Death gives life meaning. It reminds you how brief it truly is. I am ready to embrace it."
Her expression remained serene, as if she were speaking about someone else entirely.
Strange stared blankly out the window.
When he came back to himself—
She was gone.
At that same moment, in the operating room, the Ancient One's vital signs flatlined completely.
—
Karl and Wanda had been waiting downstairs.
He knew she would come.
And she did.
Her soul passed through the ceiling and drifted into the hospital lobby, settling beside them.
"Ancient One…"
Wanda's eyes were red. She knew this was the end—just the final lingering moments of her spirit.
"Do not be sad, Wanda. Everyone dies eventually. I have lived long enough. It is time to let go… and leave things to you young ones."
She was as calm as ever.
"Ancient One, is there anything you wish to entrust to me?"
Karl asked. Though he had refused her earlier offer, he was still willing to help.
"Karl, I know you have your own path. The title of Sorcerer Supreme would only restrain you. But I still ask this—if Kamar-Taj faces danger in the future, please lend your aid."
"You have my word."
Karl agreed without hesitation.
"I have ties to Kamar-Taj as well. I won't stand by and do nothing."
"Good. And about Strange…"
She continued,
"I can see he is still conflicted. Do not force him. Let things unfold naturally. If he truly refuses the role… then find a suitable successor in my place."
Her trust in Karl ran deep.
Karl thought for a moment, then nodded.
If Strange refused… Wang would be a fitting choice. In both temperament and strength, he was worthy.
"I promise."
The Ancient One nodded, satisfied.
"Then… it is time for me to go."
Her figure slowly dissolved into countless points of light, drifting upward.
Wanda could no longer hold back her tears, collapsing into Karl's arms as she cried.
—
Outside the operating room, Strange stood at a sink, washing his hands like a hollow shell.
They were still trembling.
Unchanged.
Palmer walked in, glancing first at the floating blue cloak before approaching him. Seeing his shaking hands and vacant eyes, she gently took them in hers.
"Are you okay?"
she asked softly.
Strange came back to himself and pulled her into an embrace.
"I'm fine. I have to go."
He cupped her face, feeling her warmth.
"Christine… you once told me that losing my hands wasn't the end—it was a new beginning."
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