The first thing I felt was heat.
The second was dust choking my lungs.
The third was pain — sharp, ringing, violent pain — as I forced my new eyes open and stared into a nightmare.
I was lying on a shattered floor, surrounded by broken wood, twisted metal, and what used to be my childhood home… Wanda's childhood home.
Except this time, it wasn't happening to the Wanda Maximoff the world knew.
It was happening to me — a fusion of Wanda, Orochimaru, Itachi, Voldemort, the Ancient One, and the entire chaotic mess of magic and memories I was now carrying like an overloaded USB drive.
For a moment, everything felt unreal.Then the memories of a ten-year-old Sokovian girl slammed into me — parents screaming, an explosion ripping through the apartment, the ceiling collapsing, and—
My brother.
Pietro.
I sat up slowly, coughing, looking around the rubble. My magical senses — which had finally awakened fully — spread through the debris like a thousand ghostly hands.
I found no heartbeat.
No flicker of life.No spark to cling to.
In this timeline… he died immediately.
"Huh," I said out loud, brushing stone dust off my hair. "Well… that's unfortunate. For him."
And the strangest part?
I felt almost nothing.
A faint echo of sorrow, thin and distant, buried under layers of borrowed centuries.Itachi's restraint.Orochimaru's cold detachment.Voldemort's emotional void.The Ancient One's serenity.
And Wanda's grief — which felt hollow and incomplete now that her twin wasn't here.
"I should probably be crying," I muttered. "But instead I'm doing emotional math. Fantastic."
A piece of debris groaned overhead.
Right — survival.
I stood, my small ten-year-old body trembling, but not from fear. My magical core — a fusion of chaos energy, eldritch power, dark magic, Uchiha vitality, serpent sage nature, and Voldemort's soul manipulation — rumbled like a slumbering dragon.
Instinctively, I raised a hand.
Red energy — deep, chaotic, thrumming — swirled around my fingers. At the same time, I felt Orochimaru's chakra networks mapped through my body, not as chakra, but as channels for raw magical energy. Itachi's Sharingan stirred behind my eyelids, eager to awaken. Voldemort's magic pulsed like a dark heartbeat.
I was ten years old.
But I was also an ancient monster.
"Okay," I whispered. "Let's not bring the entire house down on myself."
I focused, lifting a single finger.
The rubble above me floated up effortlessly, suspended in a gentle crimson aura.
I stepped out of the destroyed apartment and into the open air. Smoke. Fire. Screams in the streets. Sokovia's chaos surrounded me.
Somewhere distant, soldiers were shouting orders.
Somewhere closer, something heavy crashed — maybe another explosion.
"Right," I said to myself. "Tiny traumatized Wanda body. A war zone. People killing each other. And I look like a scared, unarmed child."
I cracked my neck.
"We should get out before someone tries to shoot me or recruit me."
I stretched out my awareness — Legilimency searching for hostile thoughts, Wanda's chaos magic scanning for incoming threats, the Ancient One's dimensional senses tugging at the edges of reality.
Danger everywhere.
Soldiers. Gunfire. Buildings collapsing.
This was the moment in canon when Hydra was supposed to find the twins.
But in this timeline, there was only one twin.
Only me.
And I was definitely not about to be kidnapped and experimented on by a bunch of bargain-bin supervillains in lab coats.
I brushed dust from my red dress — the one Wanda wore as a child — and sighed.
"So… step one: survive. Step two: figure out the exact year and continuity. Step three: become the most overpowered magical nightmare in this fusion universe."
I smirked.
"Honestly? Sounds fun."
A rumble shook the street behind me. Another missile? Another collapsing building?
Either way, a ten-year-old wasn't supposed to walk calmly out of a war zone.
But I wasn't a ten-year-old.
I lifted my hand lazily, bending the air around me, creating a faint illusion cloak — just enough to blur my form, hide me from casual eyes, and deflect attention.
Not invisibility.Just irrelevance.
People would look… and their minds would slide off.
Very useful.
I began walking.
With every step, Sokovia burned around me.
But my mind was calm, calculating, ancient.
Pietro was gone.My parents were dead.
No attachments.No dependence.Just me — and the overwhelming power inside my small body.
"Well," I murmured to myself, "time to rewrite the world."
I didn't look back.
The scarlet glow in my eyes was already beginning to awaken.