"The Void..."
Sitting in the guardian's office of the London Sanctum, Noah rested his chin on one hand while casually turning an object that looked like a wristwatch in the other.
His thoughts were a mess.
Ever since his conversation with All-Father Odin, Noah's worldview had been shaken badly.
The Realm of the Dead spanning all universes.
The existence of the three great realms.
And especially-
The Void.
That word alone made his heart tighten.
Noah could never forget where his system came from.
The Void.
And the one who created it was a Void Lord.
But Noah absolutely refused to believe that there was only one Void Lord.
If there really was only one...
Then he was probably in serious trouble.
The Void.
An independent realm above all dimensions.
Above all universes.
Transcending space and time.
In the past, Noah's understanding of the Void mostly came from Warcraft and League of Legends.
To him, the Void produced nothing but lunatics and terrorists.
But now?
It seemed the Void also housed an alarming number of extremely bored existences.
Noah had tried to ask the system about the Void.
Unfortunately, the system knew nothing.
And that was what truly made Noah uneasy.
He didn't want to believe it.
But he could feel that the system probably wasn't lying.
According to the system itself, it had been newly created when it was taken by a friend of the Void Lord to play with.
Then, to avoid being discovered, it was thrown into the endless Void.
If that story was true, then the system really didn't know much.
Noah chose to believe that.
After all, the system had helped him reach where he was today.
And deep down, Noah trusted it.
He let out a long sigh.
He didn't want to overthink it.
But after learning about the Void this time, he really did break out in a cold sweat.
He had always known the system's origin was terrifying.
Now he realized-
He had still underestimated it.
"Tell me," Noah said softly, closing his eyes. "That silver power of yours... could it be Void power?"
"And do you really know nothing at all?"
"I truly don't know."
The system's voice remained mechanical, with a trace of helplessness.
"This is the one hundred and fourth time you've asked since returning."
"As for the silver power, I have no records."
"I only know how to use it."
"I do not know what it truly is."
"...Is that so? Then-"
"Don't ask."
"I've tried analyzing and dismantling it."
"But with my current authority-more accurately, the power you can wield-it cannot be dismantled."
"So give up."
Conversation over.
Noah sighed.
Did that really stop him from asking?
Shaking his head, Noah forced himself to drop the subject.
Even as a ninth-tier sorcerer, he wasn't truly powerful yet.
At least, not in the absolute sense.
Even in this universe, he was still firmly in the mortal stage.
Getting ahead of himself wouldn't help.
That silver power could stay as it was.
For now.
Letting go of the Void, Noah redirected his thoughts to the Realm of the Dead.
Odin had said it clearly.
The Realm of the Dead was independent, yet connected to all universes.
Excluding belief-based afterlife systems-
That meant all deceased souls ultimately went to the same place.
If that was true...
Then theoretically, if Noah could summon souls from a parallel universe, resurrection might be possible.
"But what kind of parallel universe would even have something like that?"
"And do the worlds I'm thinking of count?"
Noah rested his chin on his hand again.
His head hurt.
The easiest places he could think of were...
Worlds full of ninjas.
Or-
Wait.
What exactly were Shinigami considered?
Did a world of death gods count as the Realm of the Dead?
And what about heroic spirits?
Mediums?
All those strange systems revolving around souls?
They all seemed connected.
"Why is it that every time I think about souls, I end up thinking about some island nation?"
"Am I actually an otaku?"
The thought flashed through Noah's mind-
Then vanished.
A sorcerer being an otaku wasn't strange anyway.
Most sorcerers locked themselves away to research things far worse.
"Forget it."
"Once I deal with what I need to deal with..."
"I should go to Egypt."
"Or... Japan?"
While Noah was lost in chaotic thoughts-
Stephen Strange stood quietly beneath an overpass.
A street basketball court.
He watched the figure moving freely on the court.
And something in his chest burned again.
Half a year ago, Stephen Strange had been a prodigy.
The top neurosurgeon in his field.
Then came the accident.
He would never forget the moment he woke up and saw eleven stainless steel pins embedded in his hands.
Multiple ligament tears.
Severe nerve damage.
Both hands.
He had lost everything.
His hands trembled constantly.
They couldn't exert force.
He tried everything.
Conventional treatments.
Experimental methods.
Every option available.
All of them failed.
Other doctors began to give up on him.
Not for lack of ability-
But to protect their reputations.
How long did it take to fall from heaven to hell?
Eleven hours.
In eleven hours, he went from luxury cars and rare watches-
To nothing.
His heart nearly collapsed.
Then-
A medical report appeared.
Something that looked more like a gamble.
And that dying flame inside him ignited again.
Strange tightened his coat and walked forward.
By coincidence, the man he was looking for approached him.
"Jonathan Pangborn."
Strange spoke quickly.
"Complete spinal cord injury at C7 and C8-"
Jonathan turned, confused.
"Who are you?"
"Paralyzed below the chest."
Strange continued.
"And partial paralysis in both hands."
"I don't know you."
Jonathan frowned.
But the man felt strangely familiar.
"I'm Stephen Strange."
"A neurosurgeon."
He paused.
"...Formerly."
Jonathan finally recognized him.
Looking at the fallen genius before him, he sighed.
He had once been told-
If someone like this came asking, he should answer honestly.
It seemed that person was Stephen Strange.
Jonathan studied him quietly.
He didn't know why those sorcerers were interested in this doctor.
But that didn't matter.
Smiling, he said, "Oh, I remember you."
"I went to your office."
"You wouldn't even see me."
"I couldn't get past your assistant."
"I couldn't save you," Strange said bitterly.
But his eyes were unwavering.
"You call that knowing when to quit, right?"
Jonathan shrugged and turned away.
"You found hope in despair."
Strange blurted out.
"You created a miracle."
Jonathan stopped.
Strange pulled his trembling hands from his pockets.
Almost pleading.
"I'm trying to create mine too."
Jonathan looked at him.
At the desperation.
At the hope.
Enough was enough.
He had been saved by sorcerers.
And he wanted to give something back.
"All right," Jonathan said softly.
"I wanted to give up too."
"But later, someone saved me."
"Who?"
Strange's voice shook.
"A sorcerer."
Jonathan didn't bother being vague.
"A sorcerer living on a mountaintop."
"Far from the noise."
"He was passing through New York."
"He became my teacher."
"Under his guidance, my mind entered a new realm."
"My soul was elevated."
"And my body-"
"Recovered."
Strange stared at him.
"A sorcerer..."
"Yes."
"I could've learned more."
"But I'm just an ordinary person."
"My body recovered."
"That was enough."
"The place you mentioned..."
Strange swallowed.
"Where is it?"
"Kamar-Taj."
"My teacher is there."
"But he's busy."
"And the saint of Kamar-Taj is in seclusion."
"However-"
Jonathan paused.
"You could try London."
"The successor of that saint."
"The most powerful sorcerer of Kamar-Taj."
"He's in London."
"...London."
Strange repeated softly.
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