Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

"...You know," Evenson said after a long pause, "that’s actually... a surprisingly good idea."

Claire’s suggestion had never crossed his mind before.

The enhancements Melinda had received, along with the green flames, were only the foundation. The true gift he’d given her went far beyond that.

Still...

Teaching her martial arts wasn’t a bad idea at all.

His thoughts immediately wandered in an entirely different direction.

More importantly... how much should I charge for the manual?

"Although..." Evenson rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Considering her flames are green, wouldn’t Ash Crimson’s fighting style fit her better than the Yagami Style?"

"No."

Claire rejected the idea instantly.

"Ash doesn’t have enough presence. Nobody remembers the freckled guy. Iori Yagami is iconic."

"...That’s a compelling argument."

Evenson nodded solemnly and fell into genuine contemplation.

Melinda finally snapped.

"Oh, for the love of... would you two stop it already?!"

She ground her teeth so hard they nearly squealed.

"You seriously think I’ve never played The King of Fighters? I wasn’t born middle-aged, you know!"

She looked ready to explode.

It felt less like two mages discussing her future and more like lying on an operating table while two surgeons debated whether to perform brain surgery with legendary sword techniques.

Should we use the Heavenly Sword?

No, the Demon-Slaying Blade has better reach.

No patient on Earth would stay sane listening to that conversation.

Melinda glared at them.

Fine. Claire’s hopelessly obsessed with fighting games.

But Evenson?

Could you please act like this is an important life-changing moment?

"Right, right. Back to business."

Evenson raised both hands in surrender and cleared his throat.

"The physical enhancement is only the beginning. Your real ability..."

He looked at her expectantly.

"Do you have something ordinary on you? Your car keys, maybe?"

Though puzzled, Melinda reached into her pocket and handed them over.

"Hold them."

She did.

"Now channel your power into them."

Melinda recalled the strange sensation she’d experienced moments earlier.

Green fel flames bloomed across her hands.

The keys didn’t melt.

Instead, intricate emerald runes spread across their surface, glowing softly before settling into the metal.

"Now try them."

Evenson walked over, picked up the fire axe that had spent the entire evening haunting his peripheral vision, and planted it upright.

I’ve wanted an excuse to destroy this thing for half an hour.

Melinda looked between him and the axe.

Receiving an encouraging nod, she lightly tapped the blade with the enchanted key.

Clang.

Then—

The axe split cleanly in two.

The cut was effortless.

Like a hot knife passing through butter.

Melinda froze.

Only when the severed blade crashed onto the floor with a metallic clang did she finally react.

She stared at the tiny car key between her fingers.

I barely used any force...

Wait.

Is this even my car key anymore?

Did I somehow grab one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s classified laser cutters by mistake?

Several silent seconds passed before she finally looked up.

"...Care to explain?"

Instead of answering, Evenson casually tossed the ruined fire axe aside and turned to Claire.

"Write this down."

"One handcrafted cast-iron fire axe."

He spoke with complete seriousness.

"Custom finish."

"Replacement value... five hundred dollars."

Melinda nearly choked.

"Five hundred?!"

"Why don’t you just rob a bank while you’re at it?"

She almost flipped the table.

Then she remembered she worked in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s finance department.

Actually...

I can probably dock it from Evenson’s future stipend.

Problem solved.

Putting that wonderfully vindictive thought aside, she asked again,

"So what exactly happened?"

"You remember," Evenson began, "that I absorbed the Ghost Rider’s hellfire."

"I remember one time."

Melinda frowned.

"When you defeated him."

She vividly recalled Evenson transforming into a demonic form and absorbing every last trace of Ghost Rider’s flames.

"There were two."

"The second happened while you weren’t there."

Claire suddenly looked up.

"You defeated the Ghost Rider?"

Her expression grew unexpectedly serious.

"That was during the trip to New Mexico," Evenson answered casually.

"Why?"

Claire narrowed her eyes.

"The same trip where you promised we’d spend the evening gaming together..."

"...and then disappeared for an entire week?"

"...Yes."

Evenson sighed and nodded.

Claire rolled her eyes.

"I’ll let it go."

Then her tone became thoughtful.

"The Ghost Rider isn’t someone you beat easily. Aside from the Sorcerer Supreme, there aren’t many people in Kamar-Taj capable of taking one down."

She studied him carefully.

"You didn’t use any of those... dangerous artifacts, did you?"

Evenson shook his head.

The fight had erupted without warning.

Trying to activate one of his Artifact Weapons without preparation would’ve been more dangerous than the Ghost Rider himself.

Claire nodded slowly.

"Then you’re even stronger than I thought."

Everyone in Kamar-Taj already acknowledged Evenson’s strength after the Battle of New York.

But most assumed much of that power came from the legendary relics he wielded.

Without those artifacts...

No one knew where his true limits lay.

Now she had her answer.

If Evenson could defeat the Ghost Rider through his own strength alone...

Then, excluding the Sorcerer Supreme, he was likely the strongest mage in Kamar-Taj.

"After absorbing those flames," Evenson continued, "I spent a long time studying how they worked."

"In the end, though..."

He shrugged.

"They didn’t offer me much."

A small burst of emerald fire flickered across his palm before vanishing.

"There was too much overlap. Anything Ghost Rider’s hellfire could accomplish, my fel fire could already imitate."

"Understanding it only made my own magic a little stronger."

He paused.

"But there was one thing my fire couldn’t do."

"What?" Melinda asked immediately.

She had a feeling this was the important part.

Evenson smiled.

"Ghost Rider can sanctify anything touched by his flames."

"His chain."

"His motorcycle."

"They started as ordinary objects."

"But after being infused with hellfire, they became extensions of his soul."

Melinda’s eyes widened.

"So what you gave me..."

"...is that ability."

Evenson nodded.

"Exactly."

"You’re a close-quarters combat specialist."

"So I tailored the gift to fit you."

He pointed toward the shattered axe.

"A key."

"A stick."

"A length of pipe."

"A broken bottle."

"It doesn’t matter."

"If you channel your power through it, an ordinary object becomes your personal weapon."

He folded his arms with unmistakable satisfaction.

"I’ve even given the ability a name."

He announced it with the gravity of someone unveiling a legendary spell.

"A Rider Never Fights Empty-Handed."

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