Meanwhile, in Asia—Nepal, on the southern slopes of the Himalayas—
The snow-capped peaks glowed with a soft rose-gold light in the morning sun, like a crown left behind by the gods.
A thin mist clung to the mountainside like a veil, and the glacier shimmered with sapphire-like brilliance under the sunlight.
Prayer flags fluttered gently in the breeze, and the sound of chanting drifted up to the clouds on the mountain wind.
The pure air carried the delicate fragrance of snow lotus, and the whole world seemed immersed in sacred tranquility.
In a quiet room in Kamar-Taj, the Ancient One was leisurely brewing herself a cup of tea.
The fragrant aroma of tea filled the quaint, still room. She had just picked up a yellowed ancient book when steady footsteps sounded outside the door.
Tap… tap… tap…
She looked up to see Mordo, dressed in a dark green mage's robe, step inside.
Upon seeing the Ancient One, Mordo immediately bowed deeply, performing a standard fist-and-palm salute.
Ancient One smiled and nodded, gesturing to the cushion across the low table.
"Please sit."
She elegantly lifted the purple clay teapot and poured a cup of tea for Mordo.
Mordo accepted the teacup with both hands, took a careful sip, and began his report:
"Supreme Sorcerer, the dimensional barriers of the New York Sanctum have been fully restored. All fissures are sealed, and energy leakage is under complete control."
Ancient One gave a small, approving nod, fine smile lines appearing at the corners of her eyes.
"Well done, Master Mordo. Your efficiency is always admirable."
Mordo lowered his head humbly. "This is all thanks to the Supreme Sorcerer's wise guidance."
He hesitated, fingers tracing the rim of his teacup, then spoke with quiet unease:
"But… forgive my ignorance—I still do not understand why you forbid us from investigating the one who damaged Node 118."
Ancient One sipped her tea, her gaze inscrutable through the rising steam.
"The one who struck the node meant no harm. The young man was merely using overwhelming force to repel an incursion from the Hell Dimension. In doing so, he inadvertently destabilized the 118th Convergence Point—but it was not an act of malice. Nor was it a mistake."
She set down her cup and tapped the table lightly with one fingertip.
"Laws are like boats. Once they ferry you across the river, you leave them behind. Cling to the boat thinking it is the shore, and you will drown."
Mordo exhaled, shame coloring his expression.
"I see… Forgive my doubt, Supreme Sorcerer. I should not have questioned your judgment."
He bowed again, this time with deep sincerity.
"This disciple has learned much."
After finishing his tea, he set the cup down gently and rose.
"With your permission, I will now inspect the protective arrays at the Hong Kong and London Sanctums."
Ancient One watched him go, then shook her head with a faint sigh.
She reached for the ancient tome once more—but after a few pages, she frowned and set it aside.
Her eyes swept the quiet chamber: the bookshelves, the tea table, the ritual implements in the corner… then fixed on a point in empty air.
"Where did they go…" she murmured.
Suddenly, as if recalling something, she flicked her right hand through the air.
Whoosh!
A pair of simple, old-fashioned black reading glasses materialized in her grasp, lenses catching the sunlit dust motes.
She settled them onto her nose, stroked her long, snow-white beard, and resumed reading with renewed focus.
Splash…
The yellowed pages rustled softly between her fingers. Behind the lenses, her eyes were sharp and contemplative.
After ten pages, her thoughts drifted.
She recalled the red-haired young man—cold in demeanor, yet burning with an almost obsessive sense of duty and protectiveness.
"He is a promising talent," she mused aloud, absently stroking her beard.
She considered inviting Diluc to study at Kamar-Taj. He was resolute, righteous, and—most importantly—knew restraint.
Had Doctor Strange not appeared, Ancient One might have even groomed him as her successor.
But with Strange now on the path to becoming Sorcerer Supreme, Diluc could serve as his right hand—or as warden of one of the three great Sanctums.
A small smile touched her lips.
"Worth a try."
Then her mind wandered further—to that other one.
The one whose sheer absurdity radiated from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head.
His logic defied convention, his actions bordered on chaos… and yet, he possessed a stubborn moral compass.
If we brought him here and trained him…
The thought barely formed before Ancient One shook her head sharply, as if dispelling a dangerous notion.
Magic tests the soul. And if he learned it?
When the world faced a threat, he might save it.
But in times of peace?
He would become the threat.
—
————————
That night, Damian boarded the No. 11 bus back to his apartment in the Bronx.
Having learned from past humiliations, he'd made a vow: he wouldn't rest until he reclaimed Mawika's motorcycle and Chaska's flying revolver!
Failing that, he'd swallow his pride—sacrifice comfort, draw attention, and just ride his Peter Parker to and from school like some deranged urban legend.
Until then? This commute would have to do.
He tossed his schoolbag onto the sofa, flipped on the TV, and jabbed the remote until the news channel appeared.
On screen, a poised female anchor spoke in crisp broadcast cadence:
"Recently, a new superhero calling himself the 'Red Guardian' has emerged in New York. Witnesses report he not only combats crime but actively supports labor movements—allegedly encouraging workers to demand their legal rights."
The footage cut to grainy surveillance: a crowd of Americans in red hoodies, waving signs that read "The Red Guard Did the Right Thing!" as they marched through downtown Manhattan.
The anchor continued:
"Notably, the Red Guard has condemned the American labor union system as 'a bourgeois tool for exploiting the working masses.' The federal government has issued a warrant for his arrest, offering a $500,000 reward."
When the screen displayed a close-up of the so-called Red Guardian, Damian nearly choked on his drink.
He lurched forward, squinting at the TV—t
hen his eye twitched.
They literally just spray-painted a Green Goblin suit red… and slapped a hammer and sickle on the chest!
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