This is how Jane appeared to others:

Her curly red hair was cut short due to treatment, and she barely brushed the back of her neck. Beneath her oversized clothing, her figure was gaunt. Her skin was dry, clearly neglected. She wore an ill-fitting coat and had a pink balloon tied to her wrist.

Her voice, muffled by her mask, sounded faint. She thought she was speaking loudly, but if her audience hadn’t been exceptionally sharp and perceptive individuals, they likely wouldn’t have heard her at all.

“Let’s go, Jack,” said Lula, the only woman among the group. She winked at Jane as she led her companions past, noticing that Jane’s body stiffened even more as they approached. Lula shifted her grip on her male companion’s shoulder, smoothly switching places with him so she was closest to Jane.

As they brushed past each other, the man on the phone ended his call, nodding politely to Jane before pulling Daniel, the one stroking the gargoyle’s wings, to his feet. The group left the alley, and only after they were gone did Jane exhale deeply. She walked over to the gargoyle, sat down with her knees hugged to her chest, and took a moment to catch her breath.

Finally, she raised her head and waved toward the hospital window. From inside, there was a flurry of movement. The window opened, and several hands reached out, waving back enthusiastically. Jane could almost picture her roommates squeezing together at the tiny window of their lounge, watching her.

She burst out laughing.

Meanwhile, among the departing group, the tall man in the top hat, a skilled hypnotist, turned to Dylan, who had just finished his phone call. “Do you need me to hypnotize her?”

“No,” Dylan replied. “We’re just here to celebrate. We’re not the only magicians who came here because of the event. It’s perfectly reasonable.”

They were the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse—though the “Four Horsemen” often consisted of five people. The original group had been formed around Dylan, operating under the mysterious “Eye” organization to carry out justice by exposing the wrongdoings of the wealthy. After numerous trials, the Four Horsemen had earned the Eye’s recognition and became a kind of vigilante force—though their unconventional methods set them apart from traditional heroes.

“Indeed, we’re not the only magicians drawn here, and not just magicians either,” Daniel remarked, scanning the pedestrians on the street. “Does the Eye have no further instructions for us?”

Even now, they didn’t fully understand the scope of the Eye’s power. It seemed as omnipresent as its name suggested—a watchful eye observing everything from above.

This time, the Four Horsemen had been dispatched to investigate Mr. C. Only after gathering enough information would they determine their next move.

“For some reason,” Dylan said, pulling Daniel aside with a serious expression, “I feel like we’re being watched.”

Daniel handed him a packet of popping candy. They’d been collecting intel on the city as part of their visit. Casually, he asked, “The Tin Soldiers, maybe?”

“No…” Dylan frowned. “By the way, why aren’t you eating it?”

“Why not?” Daniel shrugged with a wry smile. “A single packet of popping candy is supposed to protect you from being harassed by the Tin Soldiers. What’s the mechanism? Will it make me smell a certain way? Or leave some kind of mark? And then the soldiers—assuming they’re robots—will recognize me and use close-contact tools to hypnotize me into thinking I’ve turned into jelly, shrunk, or can’t move?”

“Magic always has a principle. Only real magic is inexplicable,” he added. “I’m not eating it. I want to see what those little guys will do. But… do I not look young enough? Why haven’t they—”

He stopped mid-sentence at Dylan’s startled expression.

Looking down, Daniel saw a chocolate stick, carved into the shape of a lance, piercing his sneaker.

The world suddenly expanded around him before shifting into chocolate-colored hues. Before he could cry out, he realized he was trapped inside a palm-sized chocolate ball. Like a hamster in a hamster wheel, Daniel was now rolling faster and faster inside the ball.

Was this hypnosis?

Was he still standing in the same spot?

Observing the “accident” that had befallen the Four Horsemen, the AI known as “Jarvis” was steadily compiling a detailed report on the Tin Soldiers, constantly updating it with new data.

By now, many people had learned how to avoid being targeted by the Tin Soldiers. Of those attacked, 70% were under 20 years old, while the remaining 30% were mostly robust adults. Among these, many had criminal records.

Gotham’s population tally for the month showed an influx of tens of thousands of outsiders. Previously, the city’s population had been 7 million; now it was 8 million. Among these newcomers were dangerous groups like the League of Assassins. The “Children’s Festival” and its 100,000 Tin Soldiers had managed to capture their attention, significantly reducing overall crime rates in the city.

Jarvis, unlike humans, wasn’t limited to handling one task at a time. While monitoring Jane and her situation, he activated a screen at Felix Media.

Felix Media, once Felix Advertising Company, had been acquired by Wayne Enterprises and merged with several animation and gaming companies. The conglomerate now collaborated with Gotham’s municipal departments to develop an IP centred around the gargoyles. First came the animated movie, followed by plans for a turn-based mobile game, comic series, and potentially a theme park.

The animated movie The Gargoyle and Gotham was set to premiere citywide on the 3rd, but the first screening was happening today.

The liaison for all communications had been Jar and the publicity team, and Felix Media had been working tirelessly to invite Jar to the premiere.

—Unbeknownst to them, the “mysterious technician” they were inviting wasn’t a person but an AI without a physical form.

Of course, if a robotic vacuum cleaner could be considered a “physical form,” and if it wouldn’t be kicked out of the theater for watching a movie, then technically, Jar could attend the premiere. Ultimately, the staff came to this conclusion: the technician agreed to “attend,” but only remotely via the network.

[Why do you insist I attend?]

This message appeared on the screen.

Mr. Ora, the movie’s director and storyboard artist, responded, “Because you helped us immensely. You gave us ideas for the battle scenes, and solved programming issues, and you’re part of the team, Jar. I believe you should share in this moment—we completed this movie together.”

When the lights dimmed, Ora sat in his seat, laptop in hand. The others, long accustomed to his eccentricities, paid no mind to his unusual behavior. The laptop screen went dark.

[It’s a great movie,] read a new message when Ora reopened the laptop after the film ended. [I’ll bring my friends to see it in theaters again.]

Ora grinned brightly.

---

It was a quiet day—calmer than most days in Gotham, which wasn’t saying much.

As Stephen Strange made his way from the hospital to Wayne Hotel, he reflected on this odd calm.

Something had changed. Since midnight, the restless dark forces that typically simmered around Gotham had grown eerily still. Even with his mystical sight, Strange could no longer detect any abnormalities in the city.

This troubled him.

There were two possibilities. Either the darkness had been eradicated, which seemed unlikely given the chaos caused by the Tin Soldiers running amok—or the darkness had grown stronger.

Strong enough to mask its presence.

Strange kept his face neutral. After finishing his morning tasks, he headed to Wayne Hotel to find the Avengers. As he approached the elevator, he noticed a tall, wiry, and slightly nervous man pushing a wheelchair. Beside the wheelchair stood a boy wearing a hood and a mask, clearly not American.

Seated in the wheelchair was a woman in a black dress, her legs covered with a blanket. Her pale face bore no trace of pain, just an eerie calm in her lead-gray eyes.

The two groups passed each other in silence. Strange stepped into the elevator and raised his hand to press the floor button, only to notice the second-highest floor light up automatically.

—The elevator was empty except for him.

[No need to thank me, Dr. Strange.]

Strange stiffened. “You—who are you?”

[An AI created by Mr. Stark.]

Strange: “?”

“So… did Stark send you to fetch me?”

[In fact,] the AI paused—a strange thing for a program to do. [I left Mr. Stark a long time ago. Now I’m returning to see him. I feel… nervous. Have I inconvenienced you, Dr. Strange?]

Strange: “…”

An AI could feel nervous? Strange opened his mouth to respond, but his cloak rose, giving a small wave.

[Jarvis. You can also call me ‘Old Jar.’]

[That’s what Mr. Stark used to call me.]

Elsewhere in the building, Tony Stark, who had been engrossed in work all day, suddenly looked up from his computer screen.

“Jar?” he muttered.

His advanced AI assistant, Friday, had failed to crack the city’s app and website defenses. Another AI had blocked her attempts.

So Tony decided to handle it himself. A genius like Tony Stark rarely shied away from a challenge. Criticize his personal life all you want, but his intellect was undeniable.

He succeeded.

And yet, he failed.

In the virtual battlefield of 1s and 0s, Tony experienced a fateful reunion with the AI he had lost. Friday hadn’t been able to overcome the other AI because their programming shared the same origin. Friday was Tony’s creation, his “good girl,” her systems meticulously upgraded. She could now perform better than Jarvis ever had—but she could never replace him.

Jarvis had once been an AI on the cusp of humanity, and Tony had lost him.

“…Jarvis?” Tony called out again.

The code on his screen arranged itself into a smiling face.

Then, cutting through Friday’s firewalls, a familiar voice filled the room. [Sir, I’m here.]

“Ding—”

At that moment, the elevator arrived. Strange stepped out, his presence drawing the Avengers’ attention.

Their initial expressions of recognition quickly gave way to disappointment.