The moment the Eye of Agamotto released its power, a green aura wrapped around Lin Fan, locking him into a one-second time loop.
The Ancient One exhaled—slow, steady.
She had managed to stall him. For now.
Even she had to admit: Lin Fan was dangerous. His very presence disrupted the balance she had fought centuries to maintain. But now that time itself held him in place, she could finally control the situation.
Or so she thought.
Inside the loop, Lin Fan remained perfectly still. He wasn't panicked. He wasn't struggling. He was studying.
Then, slowly, he raised his left hand.
A golden gauntlet shimmered into existence across his wrist. And in its center—glowing with unfiltered psychic brilliance—was the Mind Stone.
The Ancient One's expression didn't change, but her eyes narrowed just slightly. "An Infinity Stone... The Mind Stone."
Psychic energy radiated outward, golden light clashing against the green of the Time Stone.
Reality around him began to ripple.
The loop distorted—then snapped like glass under pressure.
He stepped forward again—free.
In a flash, he was in front of her.
Boom.
A fist powered by compressed energy slammed into her defenses. Every layer of magical protection she summoned shattered in an instant. The blow struck her midsection with devastating force, launching her backward through the villa's reinforced wall.
Blood stained the air as she floated, clutching her side. Her breath was shallow, but her face remained composed.
Still, she knew the damage was critical.
And then… something awakened.
A red sigil burned to life on her forehead. Her eyes turned black, ringed with eerie fire. Her body began to repair itself—organs healed, bones reformed, vitality surged.
It took less than a second to reverse the damage.
Lin Fan stood still, watching.
"You're using dark magic," he said. "You've been feeding off Dormammu."
The Ancient One's voice was calm and level. "A measured compromise. Dormammu's power has extended my life. But it never controlled me."
"You're balancing on a knife's edge," Lin Fan replied, raising a hand. "You're one mistake away from becoming the very threat you've held back."
"And yet, without that power, Earth would've fallen long ago."
Her words were firm—controlled. There was no shame in her tone. Just clarity.
But Lin Fan didn't back down. He reached out and placed his palm against her head—gently, almost reverently.
"I'm not here to judge you," he said. "Only to clean up what's already poisoned your mind."
Her eyes widened—just a fraction.
Golden psychic light from the Mind Stone flared through Lin Fan's arm. Her body convulsed—not from pain, but release—as a torrent of black mana burst from her mouth, thick and viscous, writhing like smoke with a mind of its own.
The energy hung in the air—lost, directionless. Then it found him.
And Lin Fan welcomed it.
The dark energy surged into his body. His cells—Majin at the core—devoured it without hesitation. Within his mind, new knowledge bloomed like fire: dimensional theory, forbidden incantations, metaphysical pathways long erased from mortal memory.
He understood magic. Instantly. Entirely.
"So this is what the mystics call power," he murmured.
He raised a hand, now lined with red-gold light.
Crack.
Reality trembled.
The ground shattered beneath his feet. The air twisted, and the world around them inverted.
The villa was gone—replaced by a floating structure adrift in fractured space. Gravity bent. The sky broke into pieces.
Lin Fan had created a Mirror Dimension.
But this wasn't just any pocket dimension. This one felt darker—corrupted.
At the edges of the warped space, black mist leaked through the seams. Reflections moved where no one stood. Ghostly figures drifted along invisible currents.
The Ancient One, now stabilized and watching from above, frowned.
"This isn't a Mirror Dimension," she said quietly. "It's something else."
She looked closer.
Then her eyes widened.
"You've created a Dark Mirror Realm… You've fused this space with a pathway to the Dark Dimension itself…"
Lin Fan didn't speak.
He didn't have to.
The truth was written in the swirling black reflection beneath his feet—and in the cold, deliberate calm in his gaze.
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