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{Chapter: 108 - Sneak Attack}
Elliott's eyes widened, touched by the unexpected sincerity behind the words. "Thank you," he said, voice low and full of genuine emotion.
It was true—Elliott had spent years worrying, looking over his shoulder, waiting for the day when someone from his past would appear. And now that day had come… but instead of punishment or exile, he was being given an opportunity. A purpose.
The man who stood before him wasn't just any ordinary figure—he was someone who had killed Malekith, eradicated the dark elves, and now possessed the terrifyingly powerful Aether. Elliott believed him. And for the first time in years, he felt a sliver of hope. Perhaps… he could live in peace again, free of fear.
So instead of resenting Aiden for dragging him into this, Elliott felt… grateful.
Aiden left behind a business card with a personal number, then stepped outside the villa and took to the skies.
He had no doubt Elliott would fulfill his part soon.
As he rose slowly into the night air, Aiden felt unusually light—relaxed, even. The moonlight bathed the land below, and the stars above shimmered as if they too were curious about his journey. The wind whispered against his skin, cool and calm, as he ascended higher, enjoying the view and the silence.
"One blade to absorb, the other to unleash…"
He whispered the words again, savoring their weight.
This double-edged weapon might become one of the greatest creations he'd ever wielded. He had originally intended to absorb the fear crystal himself, to harness its power directly. But this forging idea offered something far greater—utility. He wasn't affected by fear the way most beings were; he was nearly immune. That meant he could wield the blade's fear-based power without consequence… a terrifying advantage.
He thought about everything he'd gained today.
First, Natasha—an unexpected but thrilling addition to his life. Second, this potential weapon, which might shift the balance of his power entirely.
He was in a very good mood.
As the wind rushed past him and the stars blinked overhead, he began pondering his next move.
The large-scale plan? That part was easy. All he had to do was spread his name across the realms—make the world tremble at the sound of it. Gather followers. Influence powerful factions. Let fear, awe, and legend do the rest.
But personally… that was where the real challenge lay.
He needed to get stronger. Much stronger.
So far, he had acquired a formidable arsenal of powers: Extremis, Pyrokinesis, Flame Body, Temperature Manipulation, Super Strength, Super Speed, Super Durability, Telepathy, Telekinesis, Future Prediction, Tracking, Mind Control, Memory Erasure, Sonic Scream, Anti detection, Future Sight Blocking—and these were just the internal powers he had access to at any given moment.
Externally, he had terrifying artifacts at his disposal: the Reality Ring, the Casket of Ancient Winters, and the elusive Gravity Particles.
And yet… he still felt limited.
Some of these powers and items were unreliable, incomplete, or too dangerous to use freely. Many of his abilities weren't fully compatible with each other yet, and his core combat style still revolved mostly around his flames—combined with the tactical use of the Reality Ring.
He needed more. More versatility. More control. More power that didn't rely on temporary tools or unpredictable outcomes.
The Casket of Ancient Winters—a relic of unimaginable frost power—was not something Aiden could use freely, at least not in this world. In the Marvel Universe, where cosmic hierarchies and pantheons governed divine artifacts, using something like the Casket would immediately catch Odin's attention. The All-Father of Asgard was no fool; he'd know it was missing and likely who had taken it. Aiden had no intention of making an enemy out of Odin—not yet. Crossing paths with the Asgardians at this stage of his plans would be nothing short of reckless.
As for the Gravity Particles, they sounded impressive on paper but were, in practice, utterly useless. At least, with his current understanding and mastery, he couldn't harness them effectively. They were dormant—dead weight in his arsenal.
Then there was the double-bladed weapon. It held promise. Tremendous potential, even. But as of now, it existed only in theory. Elliott hadn't forged it yet. Until it was completed and tested, it couldn't be factored into his immediate strength.
So, in truth, if you stripped away the mystique and bravado, Aiden's actual combat strength wasn't overwhelming. His skills in close-quarters combat were... mediocre at best. He was no martial arts expert, no trained assassin. If you took away the flashy powers and mysterious items, he lacked the raw combat finesse of someone like Captain America or Black Widow.
Of course, abilities could compensate for that. Superpowers, when used creatively, could close any gap in skill. But against someone stronger, more experienced, or simply more cunning? Power alone wouldn't always win. Aiden knew this. And it was a flaw he couldn't afford to ignore for much longer.
He needed to develop. Not just in terms of abilities but also techniques—fighting styles, strategic thinking, psychological warfare. His toolkit was vast, but many tools were untouched, unrefined. If he wanted to ascend to the next level, it was time to push himself beyond the raw power fantasy and into the realm of mastery.
And then there was the matter of the new plane.
He could open new worlds, new dimensions, even—each one potentially filled with new allies, enemies, technologies, powers and challenges. He hadn't decided yet which world he wanted to unlock next. But one idea lingered at the forefront of his mind.
He could erase an existing plane and open a new one. That idea held great promise. If he did, the DC Universe was his most likely candidate. A world filled with powerful figures, but with a timeline that was somewhat similar, familiar and a background consistent enough for him to work with. With proper planning, he could insert himself into that world's fabric in a way that would let him grow and dominate quickly.
As these thoughts swirled in his head, Aiden floated silently through the night sky, feeling the soft wind brush against his face. The cityscape below glittered like starlight on black water. It was peaceful… until it wasn't.
A sharp pressure suddenly hit his senses.
Something—or someone—was approaching. Fast.
His instincts screamed before his mind could process the danger. He turned his head just in time to see a violent gust of wind carrying a huge log rush toward him like a battering ram. The impact struck him square in the chest, knocking him back. His body spiraled through the air, blood tracing a crimson arc from the corner of his lips.
But he wasn't seriously hurt.
The Reality Ring, always attuned to his subconscious, had deployed a protective shield automatically. It absorbed the worst of the blow. Gritting his teeth, Aiden stabilized his body mid-air and floated back into position.
His eyes narrowed.
A storm raged in the distance—a tornado swirling with unnatural speed and precision. But this wasn't a natural disaster. No. Within the spiraling winds, the upper half of a humanoid figure was clearly visible, though his lower body dissolved into the whirlwind itself. The winds wrapped around him like a living cocoon, controlled, focused, and deadly.
"So… we're doing this, huh?"
Aiden squinted and smiled coldly.
He recognized the man immediately—Riptide. A mutant, a killer, a known associate of the Marauders. He was infamous for his ability to generate and control wind currents with devastating power. He is able to create and manipulate powerful winds of various sizes with his hands and create tornadoes by spinning really fast. Known for clashing with the X-Men during the Mutant Massacre, Riptide is a whirlwind of death — fast, violent, and hard to pin down.
Riptide was a whirlwind of destruction, an assassin who moved too fast to be seen and hit too hard to be ignored. His past encounters with the Mutants had proven that he was not just a threat—he was a walking natural disaster with a vendetta.
How did this guy find him?
Is he not a lone mutant who later joined the hellfire club? Why's he attacking him for no reason?
What was he doing here? Why Aiden?
As far as Aiden knew, Riptide wasn't tied to any faction currently targeting him. Had someone hired him? Or was this personal? Either way, it didn't matter. The moment you attack Aiden, you become a problem that needs solving.
He didn't need to wonder about Riptide's motives. He could just extract them later—after he made him talk.
With a burst of speed, Aiden darted forward. In an instant, he appeared in front of the tornado, extending one hand toward it. A massive ethereal palm materialized from the air—an extension of his reality ring, empowered by the ring and his willpower. It lunged toward the spiraling winds with the force of a falling mountain.
The tornado responded by accelerating, pushing itself sideways to evade the massive hand.
Riptide wasn't just fast; he was slippery. But Aiden had come prepared.
Several spheres of flame ignited in the air in front of him, forming a circle and launching themselves toward the whirlwind. Riptide reacted instinctively—spinning faster, drawing in air, trying to snuff out the fire with sheer wind pressure.
But he failed.
Instead of extinguishing the flames, the wind fueled them, intensifying their burn. The fire fed on the oxygen-rich currents, turning from small fireballs to roaring infernos.
Riptide's eyes widened behind the spiral veil.
He made a split-second adjustment. Rather than trying to extinguish them, he changed strategy and redirected the airflow, blowing the flames away like gusts scattering embers from a wildfire. He smirked. Problem solved.
Or so he thought.
The moment he relaxed, a gigantic glowing fist formed out of nowhere—slamming into him with the force of a high speed car. Riptide's smirk shattered into a gasp of pain as his body was smashed downward, spiraling toward the earth in a blazing streak.
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