"Logan..." Charles stretched out his hands excitedly, tears streaming down his face. He saw Logan's figure. The old wolf had a hunched body, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked exhausted.
"Balder?!" Sif took a step forward, her body trembling, as if she wanted to grab the person in front of her.
More than a dozen figures stood in front of and behind everyone. They were all superheroes infected by Wanda and turned into madmen who had lost their minds. Now they stood weakly before the others. They had all once been in the prime of their lives. Now they looked senile, and the heroic figures from the posters seemed farther and farther away.
"Charles..." Logan staggered a few steps, then fell to his knees with a plop, kneeling in front of Charles. He gripped the wheels of the small yellow car tightly with both hands. His black hair had turned much grayer, and even his strong face had fallen, leaving him looking lifeless.
"I seem to have had a dream... Charles, in the dream, I did a lot of bad things... some things that I deeply hate." Logan looked agitated, shaking Charles with his rough hands, leaving even the nearly hundred-year-old man struggling to bear the sight.
"It's good to be back... it's good to be back..." Charles held Logan's hand. They had shared a friendship spanning several decades. Although it was not as deep as his bond with Eric, it was still far stronger than what ninety percent of the people in this world could ever experience.
After so many years, even a dog would develop a deep attachment, let alone two old men. Tears suddenly welled up in their eyes. Even Logan, a tough man, couldn't help but let two tears slip from the corners of his eyes.
Too painful! Too painful!
Logan felt as if his body had become a toy, manipulated by a hand wrapped in black energy. She pointed east, and he could not go west. His limbs and brain were as if locked in place; no matter how hard he struggled, they would not move at all.
Worst of all, he clearly remembered everything he had done. Even after being blindfolded, the pain of tearing into the backs of his hands had not diminished at all. A wolf's sense of smell was extraordinarily keen. Every time he breathed through his nose, blood flowed from his nostrils. Once it entered his nose, there were traces of both his blood and that of others.
Logan never killed innocent people. That was the difference between him and his brother. An aloof wolf king never attacked weak prey. He always pursued stronger prey, using his fangs and claws to brutally tear their bodies apart to satisfy his hunger.
His vigilant eyes seemed to conceal a bottomless well. The water within remained calm, leaving him so indifferent that he hardly seemed human.
The old wolf raised his trembling hands and clasped them tightly with Charles's. For the first time, he felt the urge to cut off these hands. The stench of blood almost overwhelmed him. His nose could easily distinguish the smell of blood. On the battlefields of World War I and World War II, enemy blood had stained gun barrels and teeth. Those who could not be defeated with weapons were stabbed with claws, and those who could not be stabbed were bitten with teeth. Black and red blood seeped into wounds and gradually became part of him.
But now, he couldn't tell the difference! The smell was too mixed... He couldn't imagine how many people he had killed during this period. He had no exact estimate, but it was definitely a lot—more than all the people he had killed before combined.
"What the hell did I do?"
Renzo ignored Logan's sorrowful expression, though he secretly felt a trace of sympathy for the tough man. But he would not interfere or try to solve it for him. It was useless, completely useless. Everything was already over. A few words of comfort could not change anything or settle what had happened. At most, they could offer Logan a small amount of comfort.
But was Logan someone who could simply break free from it all?
If he were, he wouldn't have spent so long chasing a damn memory.
There were some things others could not help you understand. Only time could slowly pull you out of the pain.
Renzo flew high into the air and crossed the floor, waiting for the people below to wake from their joy.
He actually thought of Wanda, that girl with the gentle smile who was completely different from the devil she was now. She always cuddled next to him, complaining about how cold he was, while secretly stealing food from his plate. When Renzo turned his head, she would follow his gaze, moving her mouth as she chewed, even with juice clinging to her lips. While insisting that she hadn't been stealing food, she would laugh so hard that her eyes crinkled.
Feeling the warmth of the gem in his palm, red light shone between his fingers.
The Reality Gem, the gem he coveted most. His eyes burned with desire, as if the sun itself were hidden within them.
If he had this gem, he could change everything. He could save more people and end Wanda's rule. Then she would come back... and become the woman who stayed at home, watched television, cooked, and took care of the children...
But... was she really willing to return to the way she had been?
Renzo remained skeptical about that. He was undeniably in love with the girl. He was also the person who understood Wanda's terror best. Once a woman went mad, the whole world could be overwhelmed by her sorrow and pain. It was like the creation of the world itself. Even miracles could not explain her actions, and even the person she loved most could not stop her. He could only watch her being swallowed by wave after wave, while he rode in a tiny boat, following the current as she slowly faded away.
What was the distance between reality and illusion? How far apart were they?
Renzo didn't know. This was something science could not explain. He did not know everything, understand everything, or possess the ability to calculate everything.
The more you know, the more you realize how much you don't know.
Renzo sat alone in front of the glass. Through it, he could see the aurora crossing the sky. It was like a green phoenix, spreading burning wings with eyes like torches. It flew toward the heavens with all its strength, like a warrior who would never return, and like a free warrior soaring through the distant sky. The aurora was its path through the heavens, the proof of its existence.
Renzo stared outside in confusion, his mind completely empty. Sometimes, even computers needed to dissipate heat. They couldn't run twenty-four hours a day, and there would always be things they didn't understand. Just like at this moment, Renzo truly didn't know what words to use to describe the beauty before him.
Gorgeous? Brilliant? Beautiful?
None of these words felt grand enough. They could not perfectly express the scene in his mind. Maybe he already had a word in his heart that was sufficient to describe perfection, but he always kept it on the tip of his tongue, struggling to express it, as if it were embedded there like a nail hammered in bit by bit, impossible to pull free.
"Are you in a bad mood?" a young voice asked, and Peter sat down beside him.
Peter had never seen him before, but he knew that Renzo needed comfort.
"My name is Peter Parker, Spider-Man." The boy extended his palm and clasped it with Renzo's.
Cold!
That was Peter's first impression. His senses were exceptionally sharp, but he had never held such a cold hand. Mark's hand wasn't like this; it was very warm. Neither was Blade Runner's. Although he was a vampire, his blood was as warm as a human's.
Only him. Only Renzo was so cold that he barely seemed human.
Peter suddenly remembered the police knocking on his house door on the night Uncle Ben died. Aunt May hadn't said anything. She had simply sat blankly on the sofa, the expression on her face exactly like Renzo's now. He had approached cautiously, wanting to ask why Uncle Ben hadn't come home yet. Uncle Ben was the hardest-working and most family-oriented person in Peter's heart, and he had never stayed out so late before.
"Hi, Aunt May, are you okay?" Peter had stood in front of the woman. He had wanted to ask where Uncle Ben had gone, but when the words reached his lips, his expression changed.
Aunt May didn't speak. She raised her head, her eyes red and swollen, her face filled with grief.
Peter suddenly felt that Aunt May was pitiful, especially pitiful. He didn't know what had happened to make the gentle and intelligent Aunt May become like this. He could only give her a hug. That was the only thing he could do.
Aunt May simply held the child in her arms, holding back her tears while gently caressing the boy's curly hair again and again, as if they were the only two people left in the world, sharing each other's warmth and heartbeat.
So cold. So painful.
Peter didn't know what happened afterward, but he only remembered falling asleep in Aunt May's arms. It wasn't a peaceful sleep, but there was a strong barrier protecting him from the wind and rain, keeping out all the suffering. All that remained was the warmth and kindness of the sun.
Aunt May had truly left the deepest mark on Peter's life. Without Aunt May, Peter's fate would not have been so smooth. His life was destined to be full of ups and downs and sorrow. That was the fate of every Spider-Man. They were destined to be alone.
Fortunately, someone had held an umbrella over him for a while, keeping the boy from falling on the muddy road.
"I'm waiting for someone," Renzo replied calmly.
"Are you sad?" Peter didn't ask who he was waiting for.
The sadness in the man's eyes almost overflowed. His eyes were so empty, yet deep emotions were hidden within them, like a great cat quietly licking its wounds, curled into a ball and protected by its thick fur.
Peter felt that he was the same kind of person. He always kept his thoughts hidden in his heart, but his expression revealed everything. It was almost funny.
"This is none of your business, kid. It's better for you to stay away from me." Renzo stood up and felt the people below approaching. "I know you, Peter Parker. A lonely man, a poor man." His tone was full of melancholy, as if he felt sorry for Peter Parker.
Peter swore he had never seen this strange man before. His appearance was so unusual that he would definitely have remembered him if they had met. After all, someone who looked so distinctive, strange, red-faced, arrogant, domineering... and possessive, with so many unique characteristics, would definitely have left an impression on him. A mark as large as a bowl, practically branded into his memory.
"Have we met? You also live in Brooklyn? That's not right... aren't you an Avenger from another universe? Could it be that your universe also has a Peter Parker..."
Peter kept chattering behind Renzo. He didn't know why, but he felt that Renzo needed his help.
Renzo simply let the boy follow him. It might not be so bad to have a lark trailing after him. At least he was in a much better mood than before.
He shook his head and threw Wanda from his thoughts.
He would save her, just as he had with that hug in Sokovia.
It came suddenly and sank deep into people's hearts.
...
Snap!
Boom!
A mountain peak was torn from the ground, and a violent sound like thunder shook the entire land. The sky was engulfed in blazing red flames. The earth cracked inch by inch. Scarlet mist spread thickly across the ground. There was no sign of life within a hundred miles.
A withered body was planted into the ground, and the blood soaked into it, causing beautiful blood-red flowers to bloom as they greedily absorbed the nutrients from the corpse.
Stare. Stare. Stare.
The witch swayed with her curvaceous figure, her boots tapping against the ground like a demon queen crawling out of hell.
Dark circles surrounded her eyes, her pupils burning with the flame of desire, while a faint smile rested on her face, making her appear extraordinarily dark and bloodthirsty.
Her white forearms were completely swallowed by blackness, and dark lines stained her red leather coat. Her fingertips were not the only things that had turned black; her limbs were covered in venom-like patterns.
The former little white flower had died, replaced by a more vibrant and passionate Bana flower—charming and dangerous.
Countless figures appeared behind her, standing tall and straight as they followed the witch's footsteps with their heads lowered, as if they did not dare look directly at her. In their eyes, she was the supreme god.
And God... could not be looked at directly.
Thump!
Countless figures knelt on the ground almost simultaneously, still lowering their heads until they struck the ground. Their eyes were feverish and excited. Crazy thoughts filled their minds. They were chaotic and manic, their heads seeming ready to explode.
Anxiety, excitement, madness, indifference, cruelty... All of these emotions could actually exist within a living being. The complexity was shocking, as if one person's body contained another person, layer after layer, endlessly.
Wanda gently raised her hand, and a tall building rose from the ground. Her black eyes were like bottomless whirlpools as she stared indifferently at everything before her. Every movement she made exuded an aura of dominion over the world.
She was truly a queen!
If Renzo were here, he would surely feel relieved and melancholy. The girl who had never grown up, the girl who liked counting stars while resting on his shoulder and stealing food, had finally grown into a queen in her own right.
Even though... she wasn't his girl anymore.
Atop the Black Tower stood a statue of Sithorn, its eyes staring toward the sky as if emitting scarlet light that pierced through countless universes.
This was Wanda's final secret weapon, the Tower of Chaos!
It continuously absorbed Sithorn's energy, like endlessly drawing water from the sea and feeding it back into itself.
And she! She also thrived under the waters of Chaos, her strength growing at a terrifying rate with every passing day. After remaining at the same level for several days, the strength that had allowed her to defeat Renzo a month ago had almost doubled.
Her current strength was no less than that of the five Infinity Stones, or perhaps even greater!
She could massacre an entire city with a single word!
"The Supreme God of Hades! Descending from Ganze and the world, all things arise naturally, and they are all your sons!"
The ancient language echoed through the Black Tower, and red blood-colored lines lit up, illuminating the vast land. Bright blood-red flowers appeared across the ground, growing and taking root throughout the boundless starry sky.
A bloody face appeared on the chest of every infected person. They roared and screamed, excitedly destroying everything around them, even their own kind...
"Come on... the great battle... is about to begin!"
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