The trio returned to Earth, portal snapping shut behind them.
Instantly, curious sorcerers swarmed around Malrick.
Mordo clutched his temples in disbelief.
"My Vishanti! Malrick, I couldn't have imagined—you actually gained the upper hand with Odin!"
First astonished, then alarmed, he added, "But wasn't your agreement with Odin awfully impulsive? Asgard's gods are both warriors and magic‑users. Winning there will be nearly impossible!"
Despite the cold sweat still dripping down his neck, Mordo was already fretting about the upcoming battle in four months. He clearly wanted to win.
"You don't believe we can win?" Malrick asked, turning to him.
"It's very unlikely," Mordo admitted.
Malrick lifted his right fist and summoned an energy whip with his other hand. "With this—and this—do you think we can win?"
Mordo hesitated. "That…that works for you. But you're not the one fighting."
"So you doubt our other sorcerers can win?"
Mordo nodded. "Hard to see how any of us can stand against Asgard's best."
Malrick nodded thoughtfully. "Then ask why I still made the agreement. Pure contract means we'll face a humiliating defeat—on Odin's soil."
The other sorcerers exchanged worried glances. Mordo, finally relaxed enough to talk, began gesturing passionately, explaining the situation.
A few minutes later, the assembly realized that Malrick had forced Odin to back down—but also bound them to a match.
Grandmaster Hamir diplomatically pointed out, "We guard Earth very well. But against those gods, with divine power and sorcery combined—they may outmatch us."
They all murmured agreement. Individually they lacked offensive spells; their magic was mostly defensive.
Malrick raised a finger, projecting images in mid‑air: Iron Man armor glowing overhead, a roaring green giant on a mountain, ten magic rings tearing open the sea.
He turned to the group. "Do you think those could help beat Asgard?"
"Yes—but…they're not sorcerers," Wong replied, scratching his head.
"Who said they need to look like sorcerers?"
"Yes they do—because they are. Trained at Kamar‑Taj since childhood, but specialized."
He smiled. "Modern sorcerers are inclusive. Who says casting a light spell then cleaving a dragon isn't sorcery?"
"And who says someone in powered armor can't quietly cast spells inside?"
Daniel blinked. "Wait—you intend to call in Iron Man and that green guy as outside help?"
Several sorcerers blanched. Relying on superheroes felt like cheating.
Malrick grinned. "Fine. If you oppose external aid, train harder."
"I'll work with Wong and Mordo personally—teach you all magics suited for battle."
"In four months, if you can tie or beat the external help, you join the match."
"If you lose…don't feel ashamed."
"And those two in the projections? I'll teach them magic later—they'll count as Kamar‑Taj sorcerers."
A cheer rose. The sorcerers felt excited again.
"Mordo, Wong—what offensive discipline suits them?" Malrick teased as they smiled.
But he waved dismissively. "Focus later—right now, our dinner's waiting."
He summoned a ten‑meter deep‑sea octopus from his Inner World.
"Behold this octopus—tonight we feast!"
He lit a fire and set up a grill. "Tonight, we mourn the Ancient One, celebrate my ascension, and vow to shake the heavens!"
"After this, Earth's foes will know—the Ancient One is gone, and the real struggle begins."
He scanned the group. "Who wants to sing something inspirational? The first to finish gets first bite of the feast."
Grandmaster Hamir began chanting an ancient sutra, his voice drifting like incense—but mostly sending everyone into drowsy trance.
Wong shoved him aside and attempted a sentimental folk song, but a younger sorcerer leapt in, declaring "I Believe I Can Fly!" and thus stole the stage.
Three hours of laughter, singing, and shouts passed. They dispersed with full bellies and bright spirits.
When the last sorcerer stepped through the portal, Malrick bade Mordo and Wong to cleanse the ground with Wind spells.
He watched them panting at the end of the ritual, grateful for their loyalty.
He thought of the Ancient One: she had celebrated life even in death—why should they mourn?
When he turned to leave, Mordo and Wong halted him.
Mordo stammered, "Um…we–we wanted to ask—when will you teach the new magic?"
Wong nodded firmly. "Yes, magic for combat."
Malrick half‑smiled: "Magic?"
He thought Mordo was going to confess something—he was about to shoo him away. The hesitation looked like embarrassment over asking a month‑old Sorcerer Supreme for a favour.
What a quaint holdover from an outdated era.
100 Power Stones = 1 Bonus Chapter
200 Power Stones = 3 Bonus Chapters
Sounds like a fair trade, a real win-win if you ask me.