Seeing Carl's bewildered expression, Wanda suddenly burst out laughing again.
"Anyway, I'm not going to live there forever. It's not a bad thing to visit other countries!"
She did hate America. She hated Stark Industries.
Especially whenever she saw news about that arrogant playboy, and compared it with the painful life she and Pietro had lived as orphans—those nights of fear and despair came flooding back. Back then, she was willing to pay any price for the power to destroy that country, to destroy that man.
But that was three years ago.
The appearance of Carl, the beautiful love they shared, and the happy life she now lived had slowly soothed the hatred in her heart.
She had come to understand that while those missiles had indeed been made by Stark Industries, it wasn't the playboy himself—or the innocent civilians of that country—who had fired them. It was the greedy politicians and ruthless generals behind the curtain.
She couldn't let herself live in hatred forever, paralyzed by the past, too afraid to embrace the future.
So compared to her resistance to settling in New York, what weighed more on her heart was the thought of Carl flying back and forth between countries every week. That was too tiring.
And just now, when she had shown even a hint of hesitation, Carl had immediately changed his mind without complaint. That moved her deeply.
As a good wife, she shouldn't be holding him back—but supporting him as he built his future.
"You don't mind bringing me along, do you? I want to see New York too. I'm sure they have couriers there."
At this moment, Pietro chimed in with a grin.
He only had one relative left—his sister—so of course he wouldn't want to be far from her.
He understood Wanda better than anyone. On the surface, she was kind, warm, and even a little clumsy when trying to cook. But inside, she had always carried something fierce—something extreme.
Back then, her hatred for Stark ran even deeper than his own.
He hated Stark. Hated the playboy. But honestly? Even if that man were tied up and put right in front of him, he wasn't sure if he could actually kill him.
But Wanda from three years ago? She absolutely would've done it.
That's why he was so grateful for Carl's presence. Carl had brought peace back to Wanda's heart, pulled her out of that darkness.
Still, Pietro felt uneasy being too far away. After all, Carl was just an ordinary man, albeit a kind and remarkable one. He had no idea that Wanda possessed special abilities.
If one day, Wanda's old rage resurfaced and she went after Stark, things could spiral out of control.
"You… well, you're very welcome, Pietro." Carl chuckled. "You don't need to deliver couriers. I'll introduce you to a much better job."
Carl looked at Wanda and Pietro, and suddenly, something clicked in his heart. He nodded with some emotion.
He had overlooked one important thing—because of his appearance three years ago, many things had already deviated from the original timeline.
When reflecting on events now, he could no longer rely solely on the information and logic from the movies he had seen in his past life to make decisions.
If he had actually followed through with the plan he had in mind just before walking through the door, not only might he have failed the mission entirely, but it might've even triggered disastrous consequences.
Sometimes, these kinds of missions that couldn't be solved by strength alone were far more difficult than those that just needed power and determination.
To be honest, Carl still preferred direct confrontation—fighting head-on with real weapons and raw strength—rather than dealing with intricate planning and emotional calculations. But in order to succeed, he had to learn to use his brain more often.
"Oh, that's not necessary. You know my only real edge is that I run faster than anyone. Compared to sitting in an office staring at a screen, I'd rather be out delivering packages," Pietro shrugged with a smile.
He wasn't refusing out of pride—he just genuinely preferred the freedom of delivering packages. It was a much easier job for someone like him, and it didn't require any mental strain.
"Hurry up and eat! The food I worked so hard on is going to get cold!"
While the two of them chatted, Wanda scooped a big spoonful of Asturian stew into each of their bowls—serving the two people closest to her.
After dinner, Pietro said his goodbyes and left, leaving only Carl and Wanda together in the cozy living room.
"Honey, go upstairs and take a shower first. I'll take care of the dishes."
Wanda tied her apron around her waist and turned to start cleaning up.
But before she could fasten it, Carl stepped forward, scooped her up in his arms, and carried her straight up the stairs.
"There's nothing important going on at work tomorrow. I'll handle the dishes in the morning. Right now, I think two people showering together sounds much better!"
They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. For Wanda, it had only been a day apart. But for Carl, those three months in the small world had felt like a lifetime.
And so, that night... was destined to be sleepless.
A month later, in a secret base on the outskirts of Sokovia.
Carl quickly formed a hand seal in front of the specially made target:
"Serpent- Ram-Monkey-Boar-Horse-Tiger--Fire Release—Great Fireball Technique!"
Suddenly, a huge fireball burst from his mouth, roaring as it shot forward.
"Boom!"
The specially crafted fireproof metal target wasn't reduced to ashes, but it was visibly warped from the heat.
"I've barely grasped it, but if I want to unleash its full potential, I've still got a long road ahead."
He reached out and tapped the machine beside him, responsible for monitoring and recording chakra-based attacks. It immediately read aloud:
"Fireball diameter: 2.1 meters. Temperature: 3200°C. Impact force..."
Looking at the figures, Carl silently shook his head.
According to Chiriku's teachings, even with the same ninjutsu, the resulting power differed depending on the shinobi. Their understanding of the jutsu, chakra control, and the sheer amount of chakra made all the difference.
Take this Great Fireball Technique, for example—if Itachi used it, it'd be at least ten meters wide. If it were Madara, it might engulf entire districts in flame.
"I need to spend more time training..."
Originally, after his last return, he planned to head to New York within the week. But Dr. Smith and Dr. Lister had made significant progress on the Military Ration Pill.
So, he postponed.
First, because he wanted to wait for the new Power Pill to be completed and released in New York to break into the market.
Second, Sokovia was still his base of operations. Everything was convenient here. Like now—training his ninjutsu in a secret facility built long ago.
In New York, things wouldn't be so simple.
Besides, as the most bustling city in the U.S., New York was crawling with S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, Hydra operatives, superheroes, and all sorts of unpredictable forces.
So, mastering the Great Fireball Technique and the Shadow Clone Jutsu would ensure his safety before stepping into that chaos.
Just as he was about to resume training, David's voice rang through the intercom.
"Boss, Dr. Smith is looking for you. He said the new pill has been successfully developed."
"Got it. Tell him to wait for me in the office."
Hearing that the new product was ready, Carl's eyes lit up. He retracted the chakra surging through his body and exited the training chamber.
Now that he had grasped both the Shadow Clone Technique and the Fire Release: Great Fireball, if the new drug proved effective, he'd be ready to leave for New York without hesitation.