Marvel, start by marrying the Scarlet Witch

Since Carl had returned to the Marvel world, one lingering worry had been gnawing at him: how to gain more time in the small world.

Every time he completed a main mission, he was granted an automatic half-year access to the small world. But if he wanted additional time beyond that, he had to rely on side missions—specifically, the ones that rewarded him with extra small world time.

The problem? These missions were scarce. Most of the refreshed tasks on his mission panel offered little more than experience points, cash, or items he already had in abundance. None of them provided what he truly needed: time.

That was why, for the past several weeks, Carl had been holed up inside the apartment closet—practicing a combination of magic and ninjutsu, rather than wasting time on low-value side quests.

But today? Today was different.

As soon as he opened his mission panel, Carl's eyes lit up. A fresh batch of side missions had been updated—and every single one of them rewarded small world time. His excitement was hard to contain.

Eagerly, he scrolled through the list and tapped open several entries:

"Mrs. Elf of Edward Apartments has lost her beloved cat, Kabu. Please help her find it. Reward: 3 hours of small world time."

"Xinjili Supermarket on Maiden Lane will be robbed at 5 PM. Stop the robbery. Reward: 12 hours."

"A dismemberment case will occur on Christopher Street at 10 AM. Rescue Miss Lina. Reward: 18 hours."

"A major bank robbery will take place at Citibank on Wall Street at 8 AM tomorrow. Twenty-three civilians and five officers will die if not stopped. Reward: 48 hours."

Carl's eyebrows lifted. Over a hundred quests had appeared, varying in difficulty from rescuing cats to preventing large-scale disasters. The harder the task, the greater the reward.

He noticed some of the lower-tier missions were disappearing quickly—probably completed by others or canceled due to real-world events changing outcomes. As he watched, the cat rescue mission vanished. It seemed someone had found Kabu—or the worst had happened.

Almost immediately, a new mission refreshed in its place.

"Thankfully, I learned how to Apparate," Carl murmured. "Otherwise, I'd never be able to keep up."

Some of the missions were only minutes apart but located miles away—in different boroughs like Queens and Brooklyn. Without Apparition magic, completing even two tasks close in time would be impossible.

Given the sheer number of tasks, Carl wasn't in a rush. The important thing was strategy: which tasks to prioritize, how to schedule them, and—perhaps most critically—how to remain anonymous.

He thought about it for a moment and came to a clear conclusion.

"I'll definitely need a disguise."

If his identity became public, it could spell trouble. He wasn't like Tony Stark—he didn't need or want the fame. In fact, exposing himself would only tie his hands and invite unnecessary scrutiny. Public opinion was fickle—one misstep and the crowd that once cheered could quickly turn into a mob.

Carl wasn't interested in becoming a superhero or playing moral guardian. He simply wanted more time in the small world to grow stronger—nothing more, nothing less.

"If side missions ever stop rewarding small world time," Carl said quietly to himself, "I'll stop doing them that very moment."

Without hesitation, he picked up the Elder Wand and pointed it at himself.

"Vestis Reficio!"

His old casual hoodie and sweatpants shimmered and transformed into a sleek, dark trench coat. The fabric was enchanted, durable yet stylish, the look somewhere between a modern vigilante and a spell-casting rogue. He pulled out a black half-face mask from his mission inventory and slipped it over his nose and mouth.

With his look complete, he checked himself in the mirror.

"Not bad. Looks like something out of Black Mask," he smirked.

Of course, this disguise was only effective against civilians and low-level thugs. Surveillance from S.H.I.E.L.D., Hydra, or even the Hudson Group would see right through it. But Carl didn't care. Those organizations already knew he was powerful—and that was enough to keep them at bay.

He could always use a Shadow Clone to create plausible deniability if things went sideways.

Just then, Wanda entered the room, carrying a small tray of snacks. She paused when she saw Carl in full costume.

"Well well… are we heading to a masquerade tonight?" she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Carl chuckled. "Nope. No masquerades. Just some… practical magic practice."

Wanda tilted her head in interest. "Real-world practice?"

He nodded. "Real situations, real threats—but low-risk. It'll help you sharpen your combat instincts. Plus, it's more fun than sparring in the backyard."

Wanda's face lit up. Over the last few months, Carl had been helping her train—combining her chaotic magic with structured spellwork. While she'd started out as a passive supporter, she was now confident enough to stand by his side.

"Ooh, sounds like a date with danger," Wanda said, spinning on her heel. Her apron shimmered and disappeared, replaced with her red combat jacket, black boots, and fingerless gloves. She snapped her fingers, summoning a glowing red orb of energy.

"Let's see what kind of trouble we can stir up," she grinned.

Carl smiled. Having Wanda beside him on these quests wouldn't just make things easier—it would also make them more enjoyable.

Especially since,all this new batch of quests, weren't particularly difficult and dangerous as the new side world's.

But for now, he had his eyes on New York.

He scanned the quest list again. A robbery at a corner store in Harlem was just fifteen minutes away.

He turned to Wanda. "Let's start small. A little warm-up before tomorrow's big heist."

Wanda cracked her knuckles. "I've always wanted to blow up a soda shelf."

With a flash, they both vanished from the apartment—teleporting to the heart of the city where the mission awaited.

And so began Carl and Wanda's shadowy crusade—a masked mage and his red-cloaked sorceress, walking between worlds, not to save the day, but to seize every opportunity fate—or the system—threw their way.