Kaecilius's final fate was, honestly, pretty tragic—though Ronan only heard about it later.
His followers? Ronan sealed their magic, stripped them down, and tossed them into the snowy expanse of the Himalayas.
For the sake of so-called humanitarianism—and his own eyes—Ronan had a rare Mother Teresa moment.
He left each of them a pair of underwear.
After all, they're all guys—full-on bare bonding wasn't exactly ideal.
Mainly, Ronan just wasn't into that.
Of course, the ringleader Kaecilius didn't fare much better.
It wasn't until a month later that Ronan got the scoop from Wong about what went down.
According to Wong, the scene back then was like… gongs and drums blaring—nah, scratch that, more like utterly miserable!
When the deadline hit and Kaecilius failed to summon Dormammu, the dark energy inside him turned on him.
That darkness swallowed him whole, twisting him into some creature straight out of the Dark Dimension.
His look? Eh, better not dwell on it.
Even thinking back, Ronan felt his appetite dip.
In the end, it wrapped up nicely: the traitor got wiped out clean, and Kamar-Taj didn't lose a thing.
Thanks to this mess, Ronan's rep at Kamar-Taj shot up another notch.
That month, a bunch of other stuff went down too.
The Avengers still split apart, though the how was totally different this time.
The Winter Soldier, who Ronan had "sold" to Steve Rogers earlier, didn't have the Wakanda king assassination gig on his plate anymore.
But the mastermind—posing as a shrink—still tricked him into spilling the Moscow secret base.
With another batch of "Winter Soldiers" in play, the Avengers teamed up to smash the conspiracy behind it.
And the buried truth about Howard Stark's death? That became the bad guy's ace in the hole.
In the end, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers still hit a rift.
One bolted to Wakanda, while Tony Stark straight-up hung up on General Ross.
Yup, once he cooled off, Tony just watched Steve haul the others away.
Deep down, he knew the guy who killed his parents was the Winter Soldier—but also wasn't.
The Winter Soldier was just a weapon.
Like a knife in a murderer's hand—someone gets stabbed, you blaming the person or the blade?
Even so, Tony wasn't about to swallow his pride and patch things up.
Still, Steve left him a phone.
Point is, the Avengers were pretty much done for.
Well, not really—civilians still thought they were a thing, but the Avengers base? Shuttered.
In New York, aside from Hawkeye and Scott Lang—who had to cop pleas for family reasons—you were left with War Machine, Tony Stark, Peter Parker, and Bruce Banner, who'd sat out the fight.
Right, Bruce Banner didn't ditch Earth.
To dodge the team drama, he tracked down Ronan, asking to train at Kamar-Taj for a bit.
Ronan didn't block him—gave the green light.
Too bad, though—maybe because of the Hulk, Bruce couldn't pick up Kamar-Taj's spells.
But he did learn to meditate there.
He said he could kinda chat with the Hulk now, though only for short bursts.
The Hulk popped up once during that stretch, but before he could throw a tantrum, Ronan hit him with a little "package."
Street name: the Brat Tamer Special.
Dealing with a wild kid? Make 'em scared enough to behave.
So Ronan gave the Hulk a beatdown.
After that, the Hulk locked onto one rule from Ronan: No showing up at Kamar-Taj.
Of course, it's the old stick-and-carrot trick—common knowledge.
So Ronan worked it out with Bruce: every so often, they'd ship him off to some empty nowhere, let the Hulk stretch his legs and play.
Felt a lot like walking a dog, honestly.
Oh, and Vision? He sneaky-sneaked out of New York, snagging a Quinjet on the way.
He could fly solo, sure, but Steve and the crew needed it.
Wakanda's tech wasn't for public show, so they relied on that Quinjet for daily ops.
No clue if that bird's been in service two and a half years already.
As for Black Panther, he and Ronan weren't tight.
Family squabbles weren't Ronan's lane, but he still hit up Tony Stark on the down-low to connect with him.
Ronan's pitch was simple: snag some vibranium, see if he could tinker with it.
Worst case, it's a solid investment piece.
As for Ronan himself, beyond regular training and catching up with Gwen Stacy, he spent his spare time popping into the Dark Dimension for a monthly "spar" with Dormammu.
About once a month.
Each haul of dark energy he brought back needed some taming time before he could make it his own.
Dormammu had ruled the Dark Dimension for who-knows-how-long, so its energy was stamped with his vibe.
No skipping that step—Ronan took it slow and steady.
But the real gut punch for Ronan? The Ancient One was leaving.
—
Kamar-Taj.
Inside the Sanctum Supreme, Ronan stared at the smiling Ancient One, a heavy knot twisting in his chest.
"Teacher, you really set on going?"
Just now, she'd laid it out plain: she was ready to bounce.
And Kamar-Taj? She was handing it over to Ronan.
"Yeah, it's time for me to step off."
"Right now, Kamar-Taj's crew—they've bought into your skills and they're down to guard Earth with you."
"So, it's time."
The Ancient One grinned at Ronan, a flicker of reluctance in her eyes.
She'd been kicking around Earth for centuries, seen more people and things than anyone could count.
But Ronan? He was different to her.
Back in the day, she'd yanked him out from under Dormammu's claws—raised him from a swaddled baby to now.
She'd never played "mom" before.
With Ronan, she got her first taste of it.
"Alright, I racked my brain for excuses, but I can't find a good one to keep you here."
"Man, you get to retire, Teacher, but now I'm stuck with this crazy workload."
"My life's rough."
Ronan clowned around, but it was a mask for the ache inside.
He'd toyed with begging her to stick around a bit longer—couple years, even.
He knew if he asked, she wouldn't say no.
But he kept it zipped.
Simple reason: he'd put himself in her shoes, felt what she felt.
With the Time Stone, the Ancient One guarded Earth by peering into the future every day through it.
She knew what was coming—down to the exact day, time, city, and country where some superhuman or monster would pop up.
Some folks think peeking at the future's a blast?
Sure, knowing what's next is a thrill at first—but over time, it's a snooze.
When the future holds no secrets, you happy about it?
Take this:
Early on, you're stoked—you know what's hitting next second, maybe even use it to catch your crush's eye.
Your "magic" wins her over, and you two hook up.
Then one day, you peek ahead and see she falls for someone else down the line.
What do you do?
Dump her?
But right now, she's done nothing—loves you to death.
Future her might screw up, but you can't punish now her for it.
Eventually, you can't take it—you break it off.
Later, you check her future again and see: your breakup wrecked her. She nearly offed herself, and the guy you saw saved her.
They end up happy together.
Turns out, you dumping her—because you saw the future—pushed her to him.
You're the real bad guy here.
Still think future-snooping's fun?
Just an example.
The Ancient One lived like that—seeing everything—for over four hundred years.
Four centuries back, she already knew what'd go down four centuries later.
"Ronan, I owe you a big thanks, actually."
"You showing up added some wild unknowns to my same-old days."
She smiled, handing him a cup of tea, lost in a thought.
Yup, like she said, Ronan was the one glitch in this timeline.
His future couldn't be scoped out, so for seventeen years, her life got a dash of mystery.
Tiny dash, sure, but enough to shake up her routine.
"Teacher, if that's your way of cheering me up, I'll take it."
"But can you tell me where you're headed?"
Ronan was legit curious about this.
Over centuries, she'd probably hit every corner of Earth.
Duty kept her here—her only off-planet trips were Dark Dimension runs.
So this time, no way she was sticking around Earth.
"I've got some stuff to handle—not the right time to spill it to you."
"But I can promise I'll drop by to see you whenever."
She grinned.
Ronan shrugged, letting it drop.
Her next stop was probably Eternity's crib, or some cosmic corner—maybe another universe.
If she wasn't spilling, he wasn't prying.
She'd never screw him over anyway.
"Cool, I'll wait for your visits."
"But, uh, what do we tell them?"
"That you're off wandering the clouds?"
He asked, but he had a hunch about her plan.
Probably faking her death—eighty percent odds.
"Nah, I'm not taking this body with me. Just say I died of illness."
Pretty close to Ronan's guess—she was going for the fake-out exit.
But that excuse? Kinda flimsy.
At Kamar-Taj, even cancer patients beat the odds with magic and lived.
So what disease takes out the Sorcerer Supreme?
"Alright, if that's the play, I'll reluctantly take the Sorcerer Supreme title."
"Ugh, gotta treat Wong and Mordo to a big meal now."
Ronan sighed—another hit to his wallet.
The grunt work'd fall to Wong and Mordo anyway.
As Sorcerer Supreme, he'd rather just hold the title.
No time to monk it up at Kamar-Taj daily—even with Wi-Fi.
"Then it's all yours."
Her last words to him.
In this body, anyway.
—
Two weeks later, the Ancient One announced she was gravely ill.
Another two weeks, and with no cure in sight, she passed the Sorcerer Supreme gig to Ronan on her "deathbed."
Ronan became Kamar-Taj's new top dog.
No one at Kamar-Taj batted an eye at it.
They were all too busy grieving.
Three days later, she "passed away."
Her remains got buried out back in Kamar-Taj's snowy hills.
Before she left, Ronan soul-projected and caught her spirit peeling out of her body.
She saw him too.
"Ronan, it's on you now."
She floated close, gently brushing his face.
Ronan—usually a smartass—went quiet for once.
Just nodded.
Words can shift, but a heart's promise? That's forever.
Seeing him like that, she smiled, cupped his face, and kissed his forehead.
First time in over a decade she'd done that.
First time she felt like a real mom.
Watching her soul scatter like starlight into the sky, Ronan shut his eyes.
Next time they'd meet? Who knows.
From here on out, the road was his alone.