"Did you know? There's a secret place in New York called the Vientiane World."
"Only superheroes, magicians, and the extraordinary are allowed in."
"In this mysterious world, treasures abound—gold beyond imagination, artifacts that defy time, and opportunities for the ordinary to transcend into the extraordinary."
The post on the forum gleamed enticingly on the computer screen. In a dimly lit bedroom, the glow of the monitor illuminated the face of a tall, thin teenager. Cody, a young man of sixteen or seventeen with pale skin and unruly hair, leaned back in his chair, sipping a can of Coke as he scrolled through the forum.
Click! Click!
The clatter of keystrokes echoed in the small room as Cody added a line of text to the post:
"Whoever believes this nonsense is a fool. Care to provide some proof?"
The replies came swiftly, flooding the thread with skepticism and ridicule.
"Another urban myth. You're wasting our time."
"Yeah, sure. Next, you'll tell us unicorns exist."
"Just another troll fishing for clicks."
Despite the barrage of dismissive comments, Cody couldn't help but feel a pang of curiosity. Urban legends always had a grain of truth, didn't they? Yet, before he could post another reply, the entire thread vanished, leaving him staring at an empty screen.
"What the…" he muttered.
Shaking his head, Cody rubbed his hands together, the familiar buzz of adrenaline coursing through him. A whisper of determination pushed him forward as he typed a cryptic URL into the browser's address bar.
Click.
The moment he pressed enter, his computer emitted a sharp ding. A notification popped up—a new email.
"Spam," he thought dismissively, moving his cursor to close the message. But before he could click, the screen flickered, then went completely black.
"Oh no, not again," Cody groaned, panic bubbling in his chest. "Did I just get another virus? Stupid websites…"
As he began to contemplate the lecture he'd get from his parents about breaking yet another computer, the screen flared back to life.
The image now displayed was surreal—a massive square engulfed in fiery chaos. At its center stood a skeletal figure cloaked in flames, astride an equally infernal motorcycle. Surrounding the scene was a translucent golden barrier, trapping the inferno within.
Flaming robots battered against the barrier, their mechanical limbs ablaze. The chaotic scene was straight out of a nightmare—or a comic book.
Then, bold text appeared on the screen:
Welcome to the World of Vientiane.
The imagery shifted rapidly, showcasing treasure troves of gold, a staff imbued with a mystical glow, a winged tiger, and a vial of dark green liquid pulsing with energy.
Cody's pulse quickened. His fingers trembled on the keyboard as the allure of wealth and power seized his imagination. The voice of reason in his head screamed to close the program, but curiosity and greed drowned it out.
As the images faded, another prompt appeared:
Do you wish to enter the World of Vientiane and claim its treasures?
Two options blinked below the question: Want or Don't Want.
Cody didn't hesitate. With a click of the mouse, he selected Want.
The screen shifted again, revealing a chatroom. The group name at the top read: Vientiane World Treasure Robbery Team 51.
S.H.I.E.L.D., Cyber Defense Engineering Division
"Director, the Vientiane World has resurfaced on social media. Discussions are spiking."
A junior analyst called out from her station, her voice tinged with urgency.
"Take it down immediately," came the reply.
"Already working on it, but…"
A loud beep interrupted her.
"Sir, a celebrity retweeted one of the videos. Its reach has increased exponentially."
"Hack the account and delete it," the supervisor ordered. "If anyone complains, tell them it's a matter of global security."
The once-quiet office was now a hive of activity. Keyboards clattered furiously, alarms blared intermittently, and the hum of conversation filled the air.
Outside the glass-walled office, Nick Fury stood silently in the corridor, his one good eye fixed on the frenetic scene. His expression was unreadable, though his mind churned with thoughts of containment and damage control.
Coulson, standing at Fury's side, cleared his throat. "Director, the situation in New York is stable for now. Professor Lockhart has assured us he'll use magic to suppress further leaks."
Fury didn't respond immediately. His gaze remained on the flurry of activity inside the room, as if calculating his next move. Finally, he spoke, his tone measured but firm.
"What's Lockhart's stance on this? How does he view the spread of information about the Vientiane World?"
Coulson hesitated before answering. "Kamar-Taj has historically enforced strict secrecy regarding magic and sorcery. It's one of their core principles. Lockhart mentioned plans to cleanse public memory using magic."
Fury's eye narrowed. "And Loki? What's his angle?"
"Loki and his team seem to be deliberately disseminating information about the Vientiane World," Coulson speculated. "Perhaps to sow chaos—or to bait Kamar-Taj into overextending itself."
Fury let the silence hang for a moment, then turned sharply. "We need to figure out what Loki really wants."
Kamar-Taj, Lockhart's Study
Lockhart sat at his desk, absently polishing his wand as his students, Vera, Remy, Ian, and Wanda, crowded around him.
"Mentor," Ian began, "what should we do if Muggles flood into the Vientiane World?"
Lockhart glanced at him, his expression calm but inscrutable. "What would you do?"
Remy answered first, his tone confident. "If they're armed enemies, we defend ourselves. But if they're just deceived innocents, we trap them with magic. The mirror dimension could hold as many as needed."
Lockhart turned to Ian. "And you?"
Ian frowned in thought before replying, "The real question isn't how to handle the Muggles, but why they're coming in the first place. The Vientiane World is heavily protected. If they're flooding in, someone must be orchestrating it."
Lockhart's lips curved into a faint smile. "Precisely. The enemy isn't the symptom; it's the cause. Loki's hand is all over this, but this doesn't entirely feel like his style. The question remains: What is he really after?"
As he murmured the last words to himself, a shadow of doubt crossed Lockhart's face, though his students didn't notice.
"This time," he muttered under his breath, "is Loki truly after the Vientiane World?"
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