The sterile halls of the London hospital felt colder than usual as Dr. Stephen Strange prepped for surgery. He wasn't just a surgeon; he was an artist whose brush was a scalpel and whose canvas was the human brain. But arrogance is a fragile pedestal. One rainy night, a high-speed blur of metal and ego sent his Lamborghini careening off a cliff, shattering his hands and his reality.
Strange saved the world, but his hands remained scarred—a permanent reminder that his hands were no longer meant for healing one person at a time, but for protecting the very fabric of reality. The sterile halls of the London hospital felt
Desperate to reclaim his old life, Strange spent his fortune on failed experimental treatments until a whisper of a miracle led him to Kathmandu. There, in the hidden enclave of , he didn't find a doctor—he found the Ancient One . But arrogance is a fragile pedestal
