After Jarvis evolved into a fully sentient AI, his intelligence expanded dramatically. He could now manifest anywhere across the network, accessing immense computational power from even the most remote server.

But with that leap forward came an unexpected quirk—Jarvis developed emotions and even identified with a gender. And with self-awareness came the need for a private domain.

To accommodate him, Tony constructed an enormous underground base beneath the Stark Industries industrial park. Inside it was a planet-level computer, based on optical technologies Tony had reverse-engineered from the Starry Sky World. It served as Jarvis's new mainframe.

These days, neither Stark Mansion nor Malrick's apartment hosted Jarvis's subroutines. Instead, Jarvis appeared only when summoned, emerging from the web like a digital ghost.

Sure enough, right after Malrick finished speaking, a loading screen shimmered on the projection beside the dining table. A door rendered in light appeared, and Jarvis stepped through, dressed in a classic butler's uniform. He bowed slightly with impeccable form.

"At your service, Young Master Malrick," Jarvis intoned with refined elegance.

"Wow!" Sherry gasped. "Every time Uncle Jarvis shows up, it feels like I'm living in a fairy tale mansion!"

"If you wish, Miss Sherry, Young Master Malrick would surely buy you an estate," Jarvis said, placing his hand over his chest like a true gentleman.

Sherry pouted. "Nah, I like our apartment. An estate would be too big… I'd never get to see Brother Malrick!"

Malrick chuckled and ruffled her hair. "You little rascal. Getting picky already?"

"Aren't you going to check in on your school friends today?"

"No need! Those bullies are terrified of me now," Sherry said proudly. "But Peter's aunt wants to visit and thank us."

"She's welcome anytime," Malrick said. "But clear the schedule with your sisters first before answering her."

It had been a month since the Dormammu incident. Sherry had since enrolled at Midtown High, and her legend started almost immediately.

On her very first day, she jumped off a school bus to break up a bullying incident in an alley. A few punks were picking on a smaller boy—Peter Parker. Sherry scattered the bullies with ease, earning Peter's wide-eyed thanks and a sense of personal mission.

That week, she declared at dinner, "I'm going to be a hero."

By week two, the school had called Tony.

Apparently, Sherry had "resolved" a schoolyard conflict by flattening over a dozen older students. A full-blown brawl had broken out. The principal, expecting some random guardian, had nearly choked when Tony Stark himself walked in.

"Did Malrick tell you to beat up the students?" Tony had asked, blinking.

"No," Sherry had replied, shrinking a little. "I just want to be a hero… like you guys."

Tony had stared at her silently for a long second, then pulled out a check, slapped it on the table, told the principal to write whatever number he wanted, and walked Sherry out with his hand on her shoulder.

From that moment on, Sherry became infamous in Queens' schoolyards. Bullies called her "The Kingpin of School." Word spread so far that the real Kingpin, in Hell's Kitchen, had her investigated.

That very night, several Men in Black broke into his penthouse and snapped his leg.

Before he could utter a threat, they calmly warned, "If you investigate her again, Superman will come next."

Kingpin didn't sleep soundly for a month.

Meanwhile, Sherry marched into school each day with a bounce in her step, happily keeping the peace and cracking skulls when necessary.

After breakfast, Malrick cleaned up with a wave of his hand, dishes sparkling clean under his magic. Sherry barely noticed; to her, Malrick was already godlike.

"I'm off to school!" she chirped, skipping out the door.

"Take the bus this time! Don't jump out the window again!" Malrick called after her.

Then, his gaze drifted toward his room. His eyes pierced the wall with magic, landing on the sleeping figures of Natasha and Yelena. The morning sun bathed their relaxed faces, illuminating each delicate eyelash, yet neither stirred.

Malrick sighed with amusement. "So wild at night, yet they sleep like angels…"

Ever since the war ended, the sisters had been especially energetic. Not that two Black Widows could tire him out, of course.

He checked the time.

"Wanda's coming later to talk about her dreams… Still have a few hours."

He sat on the couch and closed his eyes to meditate.

In his inner world, a golden ring of light encircled him—his personal world ring, fueled by the power of a hundred thousand suns. Under its radiance, his strength grew exponentially.

Half an hour passed before the doorbell interrupted his meditation.

He opened the door to find Wanda alone.

She wore a crimson dress, soft heels, and subtle makeup. She looked stunning, like a rose in full bloom.

"You're early. Sherry just left," Malrick said, leading her in.

"If I waited, Pietro would wake up, and he'd definitely try to tag along," Wanda replied with a shy smile.

They sat across from each other in the living room.

"What would you like to drink?" Malrick asked, flicking a hand to open the fridge with magic.

"Do you have milk? Warm would be nice," Wanda said, hands folded in her lap.

Malrick snapped his fingers. The milk bottle levitated, pouring itself into a mug, which then gently floated into Wanda's hands.

"Thanks," she said softly.

After taking a sip, Malrick leaned in. "Shall we begin?"

Wanda nodded, voice barely above a whisper. "Last night… I dreamed of that woman again."

Ever since awakening her Chaos Magic, Wanda had experienced vivid dreams—visions of herself across the Multiverse. In some, she was a mutant. In others, a rogue sorceress. One version of her even led a massacre at Kamar-Taj. Another plotted revenge on Tony Stark from a hidden HYDRA base.

These recurring nightmares left her unsettled. On Pietro's advice, she began visiting Malrick for help. He analyzed the dreams and used calming spells to ease her troubled mind.

Their sessions had become a quiet routine—one Wanda found herself looking forward to more than she dared admit.