"One last thing," Ethan said, looking out the massive window at the bustling streets of Greenwich Village. "What are the rules? Am I supposed to be a ghost? The 'Hidden Protector' who never interferes in human matters? Do I have to hide from the guys in black suits with the flashy mory sticks?"
The Ancient One shook her head slowly. "There are no such 'hard' rules, Ethan. We do not hide because of a law; we hide because we do not wish to deal with the endless, bureaucratic hassles of human governnts. Humans fear what they cannot control, and they seek to control everything they fear."
Ethan nodded. He knew the type perfectly. S.H.I.E.L.D., the World Security Council, General Ross...
"But," the Ancient One continued, her voice echoing lightly in the empty Sanctum, "you are not restricted from human eyes. We protect the world from the mystical; if the world sees you doing it, that is their burden to bear. Just be prepared for the consequences of being... 'public.'"
Ethan laughed, tossing his bag onto a nearby antique sofa. "Boss, if it's about public opinion, I think that won't be of any concern after a few months. Soon the world will enter a new era. Super-powered individuals will start popping out like mushrooms. A Nordic god will fall out of the sky in a few years. At this point, a bald guy in robes doing magic isn't a world-ending revelation—it's just another Tuesday night gossip topic over dinner."
The Ancient One watched him, a highly aningful smile playing on her lips. "You know quite a lot, Ethan. It's almost as if you know the future."
Shit. I blurted out too much in the flow, Ethan cursed inwardly.
"What if I say... I get dreams of the future?" Ethan said, lying through his teeth with a straight face.
The Ancient One smiled gently. "You don't need to make excuses, Ethan. I know you have many secrets. And I have no interest in uncovering them. I only hope for a better future."
She paused, walking over to the grand window and looking down at the oblivious people of New York. Ethan walked up beside her.
She spoke in the sa gentle, unshaken tone. "The future I saw for this world was quite tragic, to say the least. The only solution I could find was a path that was less tragic, but tragic nonetheless."
She turned toward him, her ancient eyes locking onto his. "But... from the exact mont you arrived in this world, the future has beco blurry. You can change the tragic fate of this world, Ethan."
Ethan's mind was completely blown. How did my farewell grievance about a salary turn into a world-saving main quest?
He gulped. "But Master, if I try to change the future... won't it create branch tilines? Won't I break the universe?"
At that, the Ancient One's smile widened. "So you know about that, too." She sighed softly. "As I said during our first eting, I cannot see your fate. I looked into the Eye of Agamotto, searching for your thread in ti, and found only a dense, impenetrable fog wherever you get involved. I did not understand it then. I thought you were a glitch."
She paced across the wooden floor slowly. "But now I see. I cannot see your future because, in this world, you have none. Your fate is yours to write, Ethan. You are a variable outside the equation. Every action you take changes the tiline, and because of that, the tiline has beco ssy. Unpredictable."
She stopped in front of him. "You can do whatever you want. Perhaps this world needed a 'wild card.' Perhaps it needed you... for a change."
Ethan felt a massive shiver run down his spine, but it wasn't fear. It was pure, unadulterated relief.
The Ancient One had absolutely no idea how much of a burden she had just lifted from his shoulders. From the very second he had arrived in this world, he hadn't just been afraid of the Chitauri or Thanos. He had been terrified of sothing far more bureaucratic and absolute.
The TVA.
He had seen the Loki series back on Earth. He knew about the "Ti Variance Authority"—the office workers in beige suits who lived outside of ti and "pruned" anyone who stepped off the Sacred Tiline. He had spent the last several months playing the part of the "Good Apprentice" and staying out of the world's affairs because he feared that the second he saved a life that was "supposed" to end, a portal would open and a hunter with a glowing stick would erase him from existence.
Even with his Dumbledore template at 90% and has beco a master level sorcerer, he had been worried. You can't punch a tiline eraser if they just go back to the mont you were a "weak chicken" and prune you before you ever did your first push-up.
But now? Now he had the Sorcerer Supre's word. He was an anomaly. An invisible man to the eyes of fate. The tiline didn't apply to him.
"So... no pruning? No Reset Charges?" Ethan whispered to himself, a manic, borderline unhinged light growing in his eyes.
"I do not know what a 'prune' is in this context," the Ancient One said calmly, "but I know that you are free."
Ethan started to chuckle. The chuckle grew into a laugh, and then into a wild, booming roar of laughter that echoed through the Sanctum, rattling the priceless magical artifacts in their display cases. He felt like a wild man who had just been released from a cage he didn't even know he was locked in.
"Thank you, master!" Ethan shouted, his voice vibrating with a new, highly dangerous energy. "You have no idea how much those words have comforted . No idea at all!"
The Ancient One tilted her head, likely confused by his sudden, manic outburst, but she just nodded. "Take care, Master Ethan. I expect great things from you. The stage is set. Try not to break it too badly."
With a graceful wave of her hand, she stepped back through the orange portal to the snowy peaks of the Himalayas. The golden sparks spun and faded, leaving Ethan completely alone in the quiet of the New York Sanctum.
He looked around the massive, empty building, his grin stretching from ear to ear.
"Alright, New York," Ethan said, cracking his knuckles. "Let's make so noise."
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