Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

Night had fallen, but Evenson and Clea were still arguing.

The argument had started because Clea insisted on dealing with the people below herself, while Evenson considered the idea completely ridiculous.

"Protecting humanity from supernatural invasion is one of Kamar-Taj’s responsibilities."

Clea checked her watch before fixing him with a solemn expression.

"Are you trying to stop me from fulfilling my duty, Evenson? At a time like this, shouldn’t you be saying, ’Since you’ve already made your decision, all I can do is wish you victory’?"

"Nobody is trying to stop you from doing your duty."

Evenson put as much sincerity into his voice as he could.

"But if the duty you’re volunteering for is clearly beyond your capabilities, we should probably reconsider."

He was being diplomatic.

What he really meant was:

Please stop trying to prove something.

He might not know exactly how strong Clea was, but he knew enough to understand that she wasn’t going to single-handedly dismantle an army with the amount of magic she’d demonstrated so far.

"And besides," Evenson added, "the line you just quoted usually goes the other way. It’s normally the woman saying it to the man."

"That’s fine."

Clea seemed to understand what he was implying, but she didn’t look remotely concerned.

Instead, she confidently raised her right hand, displaying the strange red symbol she’d drawn on the back of it.

"I have this."

Evenson stared at it.

Then he grabbed his hair in both hands.

"What is that supposed to be?!"

He was losing his mind.

"That thing is literally a doodle! It doesn’t have a trace of magical power in it!"

"This?"

Clea glanced at her watch again.

Then her expression became mysterious.

"It’s a Command Spell."

Evenson clutched his chest and took several deep breaths.

"You’re joking."

"Not at all."

Clea smiled sweetly.

"I’m completely serious."

"Have you lost your mind? We’re dealing with an actual crisis!"

Evenson felt as though he’d just been struck by both a heart attack and a stroke at the same time.

He’d always known Clea was a hopeless anime nerd.

He hadn’t realized she’d reached this level.

Clearly, something had to be done.

Once they returned to New York, he was going to have to cure her of this obsession.

Maybe Thor could help.

He’d heard electrical shocks were useful for certain forms of rehabilitation.

"I’m dealing with the crisis."

Clea gave him a wicked smile.

Then she strode toward the edge of the cliff, extended her right hand, closed her eyes, and began chanting in an utterly solemn voice.

"I proclaim. Thy body is beneath my command. Entrust thy fate to my blade. Answer the call of the Holy Grail. Obey its will and follow the laws of Heaven. Now, answer me..."

Evenson covered his face.

She was actually doing this.

He could already imagine the inevitable silence after she finished.

Nothing would happen.

Then they’d have to pretend this had never occurred.

Wait.

Evenson suddenly lowered his hand.

His expression changed.

He looked around.

A huge number of magical signatures had appeared.

No way.

That actually worked?

Clea’s eyes snapped open.

"By the authority of the Command Spell, appear! Assassin!"

Her incantation ended.

And people appeared below.

Dozens of them.

They emerged in exactly the places a defensive force least wanted them to appear: blind spots, behind guards, beside sentries who never saw them coming.

A guard would turn.

A shadow would move.

Then came the chokehold, the blade, and the fall.

"We are those who were divided from one another. We are assassins who dwell within the shadows. We are the Old Man of the Mountain. My name is Hassan!"

That declaration did not actually come from the people below.

Clea shouted it herself, practically vibrating with excitement.

"The War of the Demon Children has begun!"

Evenson’s face twitched.

Judging purely from their techniques, the attackers certainly looked like assassins. Their ambushes, throat slashes, and strikes from blind spots were all perfectly convincing.

But their entrances were another matter.

They were emerging from glowing yellow portals.

The contrast was so ridiculous that Evenson didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Assassins?

Please.

These weren’t legendary spirits.

They were Kamar-Taj mages using portals.

Evenson finally understood the trick.

There was no heroic spirit summoning happening here.

Clea had simply opened a bunch of portals and brought in reinforcements.

"Command Spell?"

Evenson curled his lip.

"You might as well have called it a magic flare and announced that the cavalry was coming."

"I like it."

Clea planted both hands on her hips, looking incredibly pleased with herself.

"When did you contact Kamar-Taj?"

Evenson watched the guards below descend into chaos as the mages attacked from every direction.

"While you and Melinda were discussing the strategy."

Clea smiled brightly.

"This isn’t just the London Sanctum’s operation. Everyone assigned to this region has mobilized."

She paused.

"And the New York Sanctum sent a large contingent as well."

Her expression suddenly changed.

She turned toward the side.

Evenson followed her gaze.

A portal had opened nearby.

Someone was coming through.

Judging by the timing and the way the others reacted, this was probably the person in charge of the operation.

"I didn’t expect him to come."

Clea’s expression became slightly worried.

Then her eyes shifted.

A mischievous smile appeared.

"By the authority of the Command Spell, appear! King Hassan!"

"Oh, for God’s sake!"

The old man had barely stepped through the portal when Clea’s words nearly made him trip over his own feet.

He recovered instantly, marched straight toward her, threw back his hood, and angrily pointed a finger in her face.

"I told you before! We’re Caster!"

He stopped.

"Damn it!"

He was so angry he’d tangled himself up.

"I mean, I told you to stop watching so much ridiculous anime!"

The old man looked genuinely furious.

Evenson stared at the scene.

"Who is that?"

The old man was openly scolding Clea, yet she didn’t seem offended in the slightest.

If anything, she looked like a perfectly obedient student.

Every few seconds, though, she failed to suppress a little laugh at the success of her prank.

Evenson decided it would probably be wise not to say anything stupid.

"This is Master Ollivon."

Clea turned around with a bright smile and introduced the old man.

Ollivon immediately cleared his throat, straightened his back, and stood properly.

"Oh."

Evenson nodded casually.

A name meant nothing to him.

So what if this guy was called Ollivon?

Then Clea continued.

"He’s the highest-ranking master of the New York Sanctum."

"Oh."

Evenson’s expression remained neutral.

Then he remembered.

So this was the guy.

Sure, people always said a powerful outsider couldn’t casually push around someone on their home turf.

Still, Evenson had been operating under this man’s nose for quite some time.

And somehow, the old man had never figured out what he was doing.

Evenson’s pride rose a little.

Apparently, he wasn’t just passing through New York.

He’d made an impression.

"He’s also one of the most powerful masters in Kamar-Taj," Clea continued, "second only to the Sorcerer Supreme."

"Oh."

Second only to the Sorcerer Supreme.

Impressive.

Evenson privately compared it to bragging about making less than a billion dollars a month.

Then Clea delivered the final blow.

"He’s also my teacher."

She smiled.

"And since I was an orphan, he raised me himself."

She gestured toward Ollivon.

"So he’s also my adoptive father."

Evenson’s entire attitude changed instantly.

"Ah! Master Ollivon!"

He practically radiated warmth as he stepped forward and seized the old man’s hands in both of his own.

"It’s an honor! I’ve heard so much about you. Truly, your reputation precedes you."

He shook Ollivon’s hands enthusiastically.

"I apologize for not recognizing you immediately. I hope you won’t hold it against me."

He smiled.

"It’s a pleasure to meet you, Master."

...

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