If someone had asked Doctor Strange three years ago what magic was, he would have scoffed and looked down on them with that seemingly gentle but actually extremely arrogant gaze of his. But things were different now. Magic was his life—more important than life itself.
He raced all the way back. The less he could sense the presence of magic, the faster he ran.
Following the original route back out of the pocket space, Doctor Strange stood once more in the Avengers' new headquarters, feeling as though a lifetime had passed.
"Is there a problem over here?" Black Widow looked around but saw nothing wrong. So why had Doctor Strange looked like the house was on fire earlier? She quietly asked Stark.
Stark had also placed countless informants around the globe. He had his own intelligence channels; though they could not compare to Daisy's, they were far more comprehensive than the average person's.
He checked with his AI and asked several trusted associates. Everyone's reports were positive. The world was at peace, and humanity was just fine.
There had been no explosions, no terrorist attacks. Even the Mutants had been quiet lately. Everyone was busy with their own affairs. Other than Doctor Strange's so-called disappearance of magic, nothing unusual had happened.
The Avengers, Wong included, all wore puzzled expressions. Only Doctor Strange looked grave, so grave that his hands had begun to tremble.
"Doctor?" Stark took off his armor and cautiously asked Doctor Strange.
"There's a problem with magic. I can't sense the magic of this world anymore—not even a trace... Thank you all for the rescue, but I have something to do. I'll be leaving now."
Doctor Strange rudely pushed open the door and left Avengers headquarters. Captain America had recruitment words on the tip of his tongue, but