As the Sorcerer Supreme, the Ancient One had witnessed countless wonders—after all, magic itself was a mystery woven from paradox and possibility.
Yet what now stood before her defied even her vast experience.
She had known Loren was extraordinary. But she had never anticipated that the women surrounding him would be just as enigmatic—no, even more so.
When she struck Loren earlier, she had sensed a soul within his body—trapped, sealed by an unfathomable force even she could not breach or fully comprehend.
But these women? They were different.
No soul. None at all.
Their forms were pristine, flawless—yet utterly hollow. Empty vessels made of flesh and blood, warm to the touch, breathing, moving… yet devoid of the animating spark that, by all cosmic law, should grant consciousness.
And yet—they were self-aware. They spoke, felt rage, loyalty, love.
To the Ancient One, this was impossible. In this reality, awareness required a soul. Even the humblest insect carried one.
These women… existed outside the rules.
Robots? Perhaps. But their bodies were undeniably organic—soft skin, beating hearts, even the gentle swell of their chests felt real beneath her fingers. No synthetic mimicry could replicate such warmth with such perfection.
A frown creased the Ancient One's brow as she fixed her gaze on 2B.
But all she saw in those pale eyes was white-hot fury—and a lethal intent sharp enough to cut through dimensions.
"Hey, bald hag," 2B snapped, her voice trembling with rage. "You done groping? Those belong to our boss. Touch them again, and you die."
"…" Ancient One murmured, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.
Before the Ancient One could respond, 2B lunged—adamantium sword flashing toward her neck in a killing arc.
The Sorcerer Supreme didn't flinch.
A mirror-bright barrier shimmered into existence, halting the blade an inch from her throat.
But the attack was only a feint.
From behind, A2 materialized like a phantom, her massive sword cleaving downward at the Ancient One's spine.
Simultaneously, Commander Tifa unleashed a shockwave of cryo-energy, while Marie Rose rocketed forward, fists hardened to diamond-like density.
All five—2B, A2, Tifa, Marie Rose, and Ancient One—struck as one.
They might bicker endlessly over lollipops in private, but if an outsider threatened Loren? They became a single, unbreakable will.
"You dare lay hands on our creator?" Tifa snarled, her eyes blazing like glacial fire. "Sisters—tear her apart!"
A whip-like tendril of liquid-blue symbiote burst from Tifa's back, coiling around the Ancient One's ankles. Thanks to Loren's breakthroughs in targeted symbiote grafting, each wife wielded unique abilities:
- Tifa bore the cryo-symbiote, freezing moisture from the air into jagged ice spikes that erupted from the ground.
- Marie Rose wielded the golden hardening symbiote, turning her limbs into near-indestructible crystalline weapons.
- 2B channeled a pyro-symbiote, wreathing her blade in white-hot flames that melted stone on contact.
- A2 and Ancient One specialized in speed and precision—A2 with brutal power, Ancient One with shadow-step teleportation.
Loren had initially designed these enhancements with… personal preferences in mind. But the results were undeniable: their power now rivaled beings of Sub-Celestial caliber.
In the Marvel multiverse, mastery over elemental forces was the minimum threshold for such a tier—Thor's lightning, Strange's Eldritch energy, even Dormammu's hellfire. Without it, one simply couldn't compete.
And Loren, ever the perfectionist, had ensured his wives wouldn't fall short.
Ice spears shot upward. Marie Rose's fist hammered down like a meteor. 2B's flaming blade carved a crescent of fire through the air. A2 descended like a storm. Tifa's tentacles tightened.
Five attacks. One purpose: annihilation.
They didn't care why the Ancient One struck Loren. All that mattered was that she had—and that was enough.
Even if Dormammu himself appeared, they'd charge without hesitation.
Whether you win is strength. Whether you fight is loyalty.
Unbeknownst to them, however, Loren hadn't been hurt at all.
He'd let himself fall—on purpose.
The Ancient One was a Godfather-tier entity. If he'd stood unharmed after her strike, it would've been a grave insult—a challenge to her authority. So he'd faked injury to spare her dignity and defuse the tension.
A flawless diplomatic maneuver…
…ruined by the one thing he forgot:
His wives didn't do diplomacy.
"Oh no," Loren thought, panic flooding his chest as he watched them charge.
He knew the truth: even fifty of them couldn't match the Ancient One. The gap wasn't just vast—it was cosmic.
And right on cue—
A pulse of eldritch energy erupted from the Sorcerer Supreme.
Reality shattered.
The world twisted, colors inverted, gravity flipped—the Mirror Dimension snapped into place around them.
Loren's heart sank. She was serious now.
But seeing his wives—bleeding, defiant, ready to die for him—ignited something deeper.
As their creator… as their man… he wouldn't hide.
Gritting his teeth, he activated his black nano-vibranium combat suit, its surface rippling like liquid shadow.
"Alice," he whispered into his neural link. "Awaken
the 30,000 Faceless. Full deployment protocol."
If the Ancient One wanted a war…
He'd give her one.
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