Solomon hurriedly moved the frame of his construct, crafted at the cost of his entire fortune. Adamantine, mithril, cold iron, rubies, sapphires, diamonds—some of these materials could be purchased with mere scraps of worthless paper in the Prime Material Plane, while others required smuggling routes through lower planes. To afford them, Solomon had sold several of his spell scrolls at dimensional transfer hubs to amass the gold needed.
If Jarvis dared touch this creation carelessly, Solomon swore he'd teach the AI a lesson it wouldn't forget.
When he returned to the main base of Kamar-Taj with the metallic frame and the vat for cultivating bioengineered flesh, many sorcerers were already active there. The Sorcerer Supreme had issued a series of orders, including but not limited to monitoring the movements of heaven and hell, fortifying dimensional defenses, hunting extra-dimensional creatures, and exploring dimensional rifts for intelligence. The planetary defense system was under severe strain, leaving nearly every sorcerer and apprentice in the sanctuaries and the main base occupied. No one was idle—except for Solomon, whose task lay in the Prime Material Plane.
"Finished with your work?" the Ancient One asked during a brief respite. "I've seen your creation. It's still incomplete, isn't it?"
"Far from done. I can't use lamb as the base for cultivating bioengineered flesh—that'd be absurd," Solomon replied. "Besides, I haven't even visited Athena yet. The orphanage children aren't fully sheltered, and I'm worried about them. I dropped off some LEGO sets—Stark paid for them. I'll probably go buy some bread later, as New York's food supply might face disruptions soon."
"It seems you've foreseen these developments. The Silver Key has served you well." The Ancient One nodded, soothing Solomon's concerns. "Don't worry about the food. Athena is resourceful; she won't let the children go hungry. And with the witch protecting them, no one can threaten them. Don't underestimate those kids either. Little Lorna's spear-throwing skills are nearly on par with yours. They can protect themselves. Let me remind you, young one, not to get too absorbed in all this—you're still a high school student!"
What the Ancient One left unsaid was: goats aren't bad either. But she decided against such a heavy-handed suggestion, not wanting to taint her disciple's thoughts.
"Good. Anyway, this is just a side project of mine in applied magic," Solomon reassured himself. Since the Ancient One said so, it had to be true. He could now focus on preparing for the battle ahead. Summer had just begun in New York City, the weather was perfect, and people could choose between jackets or just shirts while enjoying delicious coffee at street corners, with sugar and cream to their liking, as long as they weren't worried about their waistlines. There were no sudden snowstorms at night to freeze the homeless, whose cardboard boxes had long since been cleared away.
Today, New York City was particularly clean, warm, and bustling.
Solomon led Pegasus to the orphanage, intending to cook lunch for the kids before the alarm that would awaken all humanity rang out. He hoped that when the time came, both petty politicians and ordinary people suffocated by their demanding jobs would look up and see the imminent danger. The Ancient One had shielded them in a comfortable bubble, but their complacency wasn't enough to satisfy her. This was why she let events unfold naturally, so humanity could learn the harsh lesson with its own blood: beware, your situation is perilous—not from end-of-month bills or noisy neighbors, but from the aliens you once feared hiding under your bed or in your closet.
The sorcerers ignored Pegasus, who was surrounded by curious children, and went straight to the kitchen. Inside, two witches were gleefully causing chaos, while little Lorna fumed, her short emerald-green hair sticking to her sweat-soaked forehead. Her raised eyebrows radiated frustration. When she ran to Solomon to complain about the witches, he simply spread his hands, signaling his helplessness. What could he do? The witches seemed to enjoy tormenting beef and pork and insisted on burning potatoes and carrots to cinders.
Athena, one of the few in the know, had arrived at the orphanage even before the witches. There was little in the world the Goddess of Wisdom didn't foresee. She continued training the children as if nothing unusual were happening. "The Ancient One is like a raven," she remarked. "Ravens always bring bad news. You're just a little raven now."
"Bad things are happening; the raven merely delivers the message," Solomon countered, glancing at the Cheshire Cat and Phoenix lounging on Pegasus' back. They were also popular with the children. "It's unfair to blame the messenger. Besides, bad news is sometimes delivered by owls. Night owls don't sound any better than ravens."
"What brings you here?" Athena shifted the topic. "Shouldn't you be dealing with the situation already?"
"I'm preparing," Solomon replied, handing a basket of vegetables to Lorna, who glared at him reproachfully before heading to the kitchen without a word. "Weapons, magic—I've got everything ready. But the Ancient One told me to prepare mentally because I might have to kill a few more people after this."
"It's your first time on the battlefield. It's natural to feel nervous." Athena pointed at the sword strapped to Solomon's back. "I've seen people lose their minds in battle, turning their weapons on anyone near them—friend or foe. Only the blood of a loved one can snap them out of it. I just hope you don't lose control. Your weapon could destroy cities. Remember who you're fighting for."
"Of course, humanity," Solomon answered without hesitation, though the words felt hollow.
"No, that's too heavy a burden. The Ancient One's expectations are too much for anyone to bear," Athena said, gently ruffling Solomon's thick, curly hair. "You're a warm-hearted soul. I've always resented the shackles the Ancient One placed on you. Understand who you're truly fighting for—for us, for the ones you love."
"I…" Solomon hesitated, but under Athena's gaze, he nodded solemnly. "I will. For you."
"Good boy. We love you."
---
"Level Seven Alert, Solomon. War is upon us," Nick Fury's voice crackled through the phone.
"I know." Solomon, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder, placed marinated beef on a sizzling hot iron griddle. Around him, the witches and orphanage kids held their plates, eagerly waiting for the sorcerer to finish cooking. Cooking helped Solomon calm down—it was his hobby.
"You don't understand. I need your help."
"I know." Solomon put down the tongs as the beef sizzled and dripped juices across the griddle. He swatted away a sneaky hand trying to steal a bite, took the phone in his hand, and replied, "I also know what your problem is. Honestly, I'm surprised Earth hasn't blown itself up yet."
"Cut the sarcasm," Nick Fury snapped, taking a deep breath. "Our enemy is Asgardian—a god! A god, damn it! He crossed through the Tesseract to our world. Tell me Kamar-Taj has a plan. Earth is under the Ancient One's protection."
"Don't try that tactic again. I've been burned once." Solomon toyed with Fury, lifting the morsel he craved out of reach. "Truthfully, the Ancient One foresaw this. Thanks to your recklessness, Loki isn't the only one drawn to Earth. Kamar-Taj's sorcerers are already dealing with interdimensional creatures."
"What's that noise?"
"The sound of fresh onions sizzling in butter. They're wonderfully sweet when cooked."
"Damn it! I don't care about onions and butter. I need help!"
"Then here's some good news." Solomon tossed the treat to the cat at last. "My assignment is in the Prime Material Plane. I'll handle it."
"Then get it done! Capture Loki! I don't want war between Asgard and Earth!"
"I think you misunderstand me, Nick Fury." Solomon cradled the plump cat lured by the aroma, handing it to Bayonetta before kissing the witch. Only then did he pick up the phone again. "Kamar-Taj's approach isn't something you want to see."
"What do you mean?"
"This is a blood sacrifice, Fury. Humanity paying for its past foolishness. You can't stop it. All we can do is minimize the casualties and decide who goes on the altar. You and I both don't want innocent lives lost. So, it's time to choose—do we start with the president or the World Security Council?"
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