Marvel: The Awakened One

That single gesture—the Ancient One standing on the stone platform, serene and ethereal, her hand raised as if cradling an invisible blossom—hit Hawk like a revelation.

For a heartbeat, she wasn’t a sorceress. She was something else entirely.

A Buddha in all but name.

The only difference? That other Enlightened soul had been a man. This one was a woman.

Though, honestly, gender wasn’t the point here.

Hawk blinked hard, shook his head to clear the afterimage, and refocused on the Ancient One.

She’d already lowered her hand. The Transcendent aura was gone, folded back into her usual calm.

He opened his mouth. ”How?”

”When you stand at the crest of time’s river,” she said evenly, ”you can see what came before and what lies ahead. And with the Time Stone in hand, the future is clearer than the past ever was.”

The Ancient One’s tone was conversational. Matter-of-fact. ”Besides, this is far easier than borrowing from Dormammu. His power comes with a price. But borrowing from my future self? No interest. No strings. Quite convenient, really.”

Hawk had recovered from the initial shock by now.

Still surprised, sure. But not that surprised.

He’d come to Kamar-Taj expecting to pay a price. He’d just assumed the bill would come due later, not before he’d even signed the contract.

And that fleeting energy signature the Ancient One had just displayed—unfamiliar yet strangely recognizable—had given him a glimpse of something he hadn’t expected to see for years.

His own future...

Or at least, a shadow of it.

He met her gaze. ”So I succeed?”

”Can’t tell you that.”

”Why not?”

”Because you’d try to change it. And that would ruin everything.”

Hawk’s mouth twitched. ”You already cheated.”

”I did.”

No denial. No excuses. The Ancient One simply nodded, her expression as placid as still water.

”But my cheating doesn’t matter. Even if I peek ahead, it won’t alter the outcome. I’ve made peace with whatever comes—just like Odin.”

’Right. The All-Father, who sees the future and does nothing to stop Ragnarok.’

That was the high-minded interpretation: acceptance, wisdom, serenity.

The less charitable version?

Giving up.

If Hawk saw his own future and didn’t like what he found, he sure as hell wouldn’t just sit back and take it.

Fate’s a suggestion, not an order.

That principle wasn’t just etched into his bones. It was branded into his soul, inseparable from who he was.

Even knowing failure was inevitable, he’d still fight.

That’s what it means to be a man.

And that, of course, was exactly why the Ancient One refused to tell him what she’d seen.

Hawk understood perfectly.

’Fine. You won’t tell me? I’ll just look for myself.’

He glanced down at the Eye of Agamotto resting in his palm, then back up at the Ancient One.

She looked back at him. As if she had no idea what he was planning. Or as if she knew exactly what he was planning and had decided to let him make his own mistakes.

Hawk took a deep breath.

Focused on the gem.

Time Stone—Open.

....

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOM.

Green light erupted from the stone’s heart, flooding outward like a dam breaking. In seconds, the glow had swallowed him whole.

And suddenly, Hawk was somewhere else.

The River of Time.

He hung suspended in its current—a lone ship in an ocean too vast to comprehend. The flow was relentless, surging forward in a single overwhelming tide. But even as he watched, the river split.

Once. Twice. A hundred times. A thousand.

Infinite branches, infinite futures—all diverging and converging in patterns too complex for mortal minds to track.

Hawk had intended to catch a glimpse of where he’d end up.

He abandoned that plan immediately.

In less than a second, he retreated into his Cosmo, pulling himself out of the temporal maelstrom and into the only space he could truly control—the universe within his soul.

....

Inside his inner world, still wrapped in the Time Stone’s green radiance, Hawk’s thoughts crystallized into intent.

And his Cosmo responded.

CRASH.

The transformation was instantaneous.

Sand appeared first—countless grains of it, materializing in every corner of his universe, summoned by the Earth Element embedded in his soul. The particles collided, ground against each other, and under the influence of the Fire Element, ignited.

Flames roared to life.

The sand melted, fusing into molten rock. Wind fed the blaze, and stars began to form—dozens, then hundreds, condensing out of the primordial chaos like droplets of light.

What should have taken decades happened in moments.

Hawk’s Cosmo, once barren and sparse, was now dotted with newborn suns.

Not a true galaxy. Not yet.

But no longer empty.

He was about to push further—accelerate harder, cram centuries of development into a single session—when exhaustion hit him like a sledgehammer.

Not physical fatigue.

Not even spiritual strain.

Something deeper.

His mind was collapsing under the weight of accelerated time.

At the same moment, the Phoenix Heart flared within him, pulsing out a warning that bypassed words entirely.

’Stop. Now. Your mental fortitude has reached its limit. Push any further, and your consciousness will shatter.’

Hawk froze.

Then, reluctantly, he let go of the Time Stone’s power.

The green light faded.

...

He exhaled slowly, surveying the newly transformed Cosmo around him.

’Yeah. That’s enough.’

Cheating felt good.

Getting caught felt awful.

Better to quit while he was ahead.

What he’d just accomplished—compressing decades of meditation and refinement into a few stolen minutes—was already more than he’d dared hope for.

His inner universe wasn’t packed with stars yet. But it was no longer a wasteland, either.

And once he strengthened his mind, once he trained his consciousness to endure greater strain...

He could do this again.

Cheat once, feel good. Cheat forever, feel great.

He’d already abused the Reality Stone to manifest his constellation. Now the Time Stone to accelerate his development.

What was one more shortcut?

He already knew which Infinity Stone he’d exploit next.

The Mind Stone.

The key to unlocking the Seventh Sense—the threshold that separated ordinary Saints from the elite.

Bronze Saints awakened the Sixth Sense. Silver Saints refined it.

But Gold Saints?? They’d mastered the Seventh.

The Seventh Sense wasn’t just about power. It was about ’unification’—Mind, soul, and life force merging into a single indivisible whole, bound inseparably to the Saint’s Cosmo.

Only those who achieved that synthesis earned the title of Gold Saint.

And Hawk was going to cheat his way there.

The Mind Stone would let him shortcut that Enlightenment. Probably faster than the Time Stone, too, since it directly targeted the aspect he needed to strengthen—his consciousness.

And if he wasn’t mistaken, the Mind Stone was already in play. HYDRA should have it by now, embedded in Loki’s scepter.

’Once I’m done here, I’ll give Anna a call. See if I can borrow it.’

If HYDRA was worried he wouldn’t return it, fine. He’d go pick it up himself.

In person.

By force if necessary.

Hawk smiled at the thought.

....

But that was future business.

Right now, his attention shifted to something far more immediate.

Floating at the heart of his Cosmo, cradled within the spectral wings of the Dark Phoenix, was a core of black fire—forged from the Life-Death Law Fragment he’d stolen from Blackheart, reinforced by the Four Creation Elements.

The foundation of his Underworld.

It was time to accelerate its birth.

Hawk’s will descended upon the forming realm like a storm. The Time Stone’s residual power still clung to him, and he funneled it downward, pouring green light into the proto-dimension below.

The effect was immediate.

RUMBLE.

The half-formed Underworld convulsed. The Life-Death Law Fragment, which should have taken months to fully integrate, dissolved in seconds. Its essence spread like black oil, seeping into every crevice of the nascent dimension.

The ground buckled. Tectonic forces that should have taken eons compressed into moments. Landmasses collided, shattered, reformed. Again and again, the cycle repeated, each iteration compressing matter into denser and denser forms.

And from that pressure, something new was born.

Crystals.

Dark as obsidian, gleaming like polished metal, they erupted from the Underworld’s crust—some embedded deep in the bedrock, others jutting from the surface like jagged teeth.

Underworld Gemstones.

The material used to forge Surplices—the Underworld equivalent of Saint Armors, nearly equal in power to the Gold Cloths themselves.

Nearly.

If they were truly equal, they wouldn’t need the comparison.

But Hawk didn’t care.

The Surplice was a stopgap. A transitional armor to carry him through the gap between now and the day he could forge a true Gold Cloth.

And more importantly, the Surplice had one advantage the Gold Cloth didn’t.

Once he wore it, even with only his Sixth Sense, he’d be able to walk freely between the realms of life and death.

Which meant he could finally go to Hell.

And settle his debt with Mephisto.

...

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