"Harry, watch out!"
JARVIS immediately detected a rocket tearing through the air at high speed, screaming toward Harry's back.
Tony had just started to raise his arm, locking on with an energy blast to intercept it—when he realized Harry didn't even bother turning around.
Harry's body shifted slightly. A lightning sword was drawn straight out of thin air, and he slashed backward in one clean, violent arc.
A blinding flash of electricity split the air. The rocket was cleaved in two inside the thunderlight—then detonated.
In the distance, several fully armed terrorists charged their way.
Even after witnessing Harry cut a rocket in half, none of them showed fear. Instead, they fired more rockets at once—and sprinted toward him at a speed that didn't seem any slower than the missiles themselves.
Harry stayed calm. In an instant, he constructed an electromagnetic field and hurled the lightning sword forward.
Boom!
A thunderous sonic blast erupted as the lightning sword broke the sound barrier. Arcing electricity splashed outward, detonating the incoming rockets mid-flight, while the blade itself slammed down among the terrorists and exploded again.
When the roar finally faded, Harry waved away the dust and looked toward where they'd been standing—then froze, genuinely stunned.
Apart from one terrorist who'd been hit directly and torn apart into pieces, the others were still alive.
The one in the worst condition had essentially lost his entire lower body—his guts spilling out—yet even then, his wounds were knitting themselves back together at a visible speed.
Harry's brow lifted, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
With a thought, he made the remaining terrorists float in front of him so he could study them up close.
Then Harry noticed something even stranger: their body temperatures were wildly abnormal. The hottest one was over a thousand degrees.
Confused, Harry turned to Tony, hoping for an explanation.
Tony's expression was grim.
"I don't know that much either. I only know this is a biotech weapon called Extremis.
"Inject it, and you get insane regeneration and strength. You can also generate extreme heat and flames around your body as a weapon.
"And that's not even the worst part. The worst part is—if you come into physical contact with them, you go into a coma instantly. No matter what you do, you can't wake up."
Harry's interest sharpened. He decided to test it—take the initiative and make contact, see if he'd really get knocked into sleep.
For anyone without confidence, that would be suicidal.
For Harry, it was just standard procedure.
Tony didn't try to talk him out of it. He'd known for a long time that Harry was… different. If Harry really entered the dream world, the one having a bad day definitely wouldn't be Harry.
Before that, though, Harry tried to squeeze some useful information out of the terrorists.
Like who was behind Extremis?
And where did the dream ability come from?
But no matter how he questioned them, the responses were all eerily similar.
"Buh… buh… buh…"
"Ha! I am Satan! I'll kill you—kill you!"
"Baby, don't run. Your husband's not here—we can have some fun!"
Seeing this—
Harry: !!! ∑(Дノ)ノ
Tony: Σ(っ°Д°;)っ
Pepper: o(////▽////)q
There was no doubt about it: these terrorists no longer had anything resembling normal sanity.
After observing more carefully, Harry realized they weren't even truly awake. Their souls were extremely weak—clearly already trapped in a dream.
What they were doing right now was simply someone controlling their bodies from within the dream world.
That also explained why they'd charged to their deaths without fear, even after seeing Harry's strength.
Once it was clear he wouldn't get anything more out of them, Harry reached out and touched one.
A force immediately latched onto him.
He didn't resist. He even cooperated.
His eyes slid shut, and he sank into deep sleep.
…
The dream world was nothing like reality.
It was built from the dreams of intelligent beings—pure mind-over-matter made absolute.
And because it was so intensely mental, the scenery didn't resemble the real world at all. It didn't need to obey physics, so everything was miraculous and fantastical.
As far as the eye could see, light itself took on an unfamiliar form.
It no longer traveled in straight lines. Instead, it twisted like living ribbons, weaving and tangling into a shimmering net of radiance.
Space was warped and complicated here.
Up and down, left and right—those ideas barely existed. Huge floating stone-like masses were scattered at random.
Some intersected each other. Some overlapped. Yet none of them shifted from gravity or collision.
Even the ground wasn't solid earth, but a semi-transparent, jelly-like substance.
It was springy—each step sank in and bounced back, while faint bioluminescence seeped out beneath your feet.
In one corner of this surreal world stood a woman—tall, flawlessly proportioned, every movement radiating elegance and authority.
She wore battle armor that exposed large stretches of skin. She idly combed her fingers through her glowing green hair, unconsciously swaying her hips as she pondered something.
A moment later, she sensed several more souls about to fall into the dream world. Delight flickered across her face, and she murmured to herself:
"Based on my investigation, those dream slaves should have been sent by the Cyril Guard Unit to cause trouble for Tony Stark.
"If Tony Stark is unlucky, there's a high chance he'll fall into the dream world. So this soul is most likely Tony Stark—or his subordinate, Pepper.
"As long as I meet either of them, I can have them pass a message to the new Sorcerer Supreme… and then I can negotiate a partnership."
A moment later, the gate of dreams opened, and several souls appeared in the dream world.
The woman immediately strode toward the one that still seemed lucid. Before she even saw their face clearly, she put on an air of mysterious superiority and announced loudly:
"Ahem. You're the best of this batch of newcomers—y-you—"
She'd planned to "handle" Tony or Pepper from a position of dominance, then—when they begged for help—graciously send them back to Earth.
That way, she could harvest their gratitude properly.
But when she finally saw that soul's face, the beautiful woman went rigid—her words catching, her tongue tying itself into knots.
Because the soul wasn't weak like she expected.
Among several pale, trembling, transparent souls stood one that was terrifyingly solid—so solid it looked like a physical body had descended into the dream world.
Strands of rainbow-colored spiritual light coiled around him. The light wasn't static; it rose and fell like a slow tide, carrying a dreamlike texture that gave him an unmistakable, almost divine presence.
As Nightmare's daughter, the Dreamqueen had heard plenty about the Chaos Controller—his deeds were infamous across the multiverse.
I'm dead. I'm so dead.
What do I do? Why isn't it Tony Stark?
Why did they drag the Chaos Controller in here?
With the strength of those dream slaves, they should've been instantly erased the moment they met him—there's no way they could've even touched him!
…
Several souls had been dragged into the dream world at nearly the same time, so they entered through the same passage.
Harry was the first to wake. He swept his gaze around, and quickly noticed a tall, seductive woman watching from the side.
She was very tall—almost as tall as he was. She carried the distinctive aura of a dimensional demon-god, but her "weight" wasn't that high. She felt like a descendant of some greater entity—like Blackheart, rather than the true thing.
Harry was just about to question her about the dream world when the ordinary people started waking up.
Two burly Black men looked around in panic. But their eyes quickly locked onto Harry, who was calmly observing everything, and they immediately concluded he must know what was happening.
One of them—nearly six and a half feet tall—stormed over and reached for Harry's collar, barking:
"Hey, kid! Is this your doing? Where is this? Where the hell did you bring me?!"
Mortals couldn't see the magical light on the surface of Harry's soul.
And when you don't understand what you're looking at, you get brave enough to attack horrors that even the strong would rather avoid.
Nearby, the Dreamqueen stared, her lips parting in disbelief.
Is this human insane?
He's actually provoking the Chaos Controller?
Just recently, he destroyed three-tenths of Mephisto's Hell Dimension!
Harry didn't indulge him.
Before those thick arms could grab him, Harry moved—fast—seizing the man's forearm.
Crack.
A crisp, sickening sound rang out. The big man's arm instantly went limp.
Harry had squeezed once—lightly—and snapped the bone.
The man froze for half a second before his brain caught up, then he screamed like a slaughterhouse siren.
Everyone else saw it and stumbled backward.
After the Battle of New York and Tony Stark publicly calling himself Iron Man, even civilians knew superhumans existed.
And there was no question: the man in front of them was the real thing. Nobody breaks an adult's arm bone that casually otherwise.
Harry flicked a glance at the two Black men. The same people who'd looked ferocious a moment ago were now crouched on the ground, trembling like startled birds.
Then he focused on the mysterious woman. Magic rippled along his surface, ready to strike.
Before he could speak, the woman raised her hands with a shaky smile.
"Wait—respected Chaos Controller. I have no hostile intent!
"I'm here to negotiate!"
Negotiate?
Harry's mouth curved into a strange smile. He was far too familiar with those words.
Dormammu had wanted to negotiate.
Mephisto had wanted to negotiate.
And now, a mysterious woman in the dream world wanted to negotiate.
Harry was genuinely curious what terms she thought she could offer.
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