Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

"That’s how it happened. I pointed at the Destroyer, and just like that, I banished the thing from Asgard into a pocket dimension. Its body was reduced to a semi-ethereal state."

Evenson was thoroughly enjoying himself.

He gestured dramatically as he recounted his exploits, his expression growing more animated with every word.

"The funniest part was that Thor didn’t notice anything was wrong. He came flying down from the sky, passed straight through the Destroyer, and buried himself headfirst in the ground."

Evenson grinned.

"You should’ve seen the look on his face when he crawled out of that hole. For a second, I thought the God of Thunder had been reincarnated as a dirt-covered stray."

Gideon and Stephanie immediately burst out laughing.

Whether the joke was actually funny was beside the point.

Evenson had told a joke.

Therefore, the hosts laughed.

That was how polite society worked.

Malick had invited Evenson over for a serious discussion, but they couldn’t simply sit on a couch and stare at each other for several hours.

They needed an activity.

Golf was an obvious choice.

Malick had negotiated countless deals on his private golf courses over the years. But after thinking about it, he decided golf might be a poor choice for Evenson.

The sport carried a certain social and economic baggage.

And Evenson’s socioeconomic background was...

Well.

Let’s just say he wasn’t exactly a country-club regular.

For all Malick knew, Evenson had never touched a golf club in his life.

Dragging him onto a course could easily turn an attempt at hospitality into an insult.

Shooting was out too.

Evenson was the kind of man who could casually throw a fireball with the destructive power of a rocket launcher.

He probably didn’t need target practice to get his adrenaline flowing.

So Malick settled on the one activity that transcended age, wealth, social class, and culture.

Food.

Even that required some thought.

Malick deliberately avoided serving anything excessively exotic or expensive.

There was no point putting a tiny portion of Swedish black truffle, French foie gras, Russian caviar, or premium veal in front of Evenson and expecting him to appreciate the expense.

For all Malick knew, Evenson wouldn’t even recognize half of it.

Then the money would be wasted.

And worse, the gesture would accomplish nothing.

Instead, Malick ordered dishes that were impressive in the most straightforward possible way.

Large portions.

Expensive ingredients.

Familiar delicacies.

Enough food to make the table look like it was preparing for a royal banquet.

And it worked.

Evenson was delighted.

The dishes disappeared at an alarming rate.

He maintained perfect table manners throughout, but his knife and fork moved with terrifying efficiency.

He ate like a StarCraft professional who had somehow activated Bloodlust and a stack of attack-speed buffs simultaneously.

By the time the meal was winding down, Evenson had done considerable damage to the table.

After several rounds of drinks and enough food to satisfy a small army, he finally picked up his napkin and wiped his mouth.

He raised his wineglass toward Gideon and Stephanie.

"Thank you both for such a generous meal."

The father and daughter stared at him for a moment.

Then they awkwardly raised their glasses.

"You’re welcome."

Internally, they were both asking the same question.

Had this man been starving?

Had he never eaten properly in his life?

Still, there was an upside.

Someone who wasn’t accustomed to luxury was usually much easier to impress.

The servants quietly cleared the empty plates.

Once everything had been removed, they withdrew from the dining room.

The room was now occupied by only three people.

Evenson.

Gideon.

Stephanie.

Stephanie then began behaving exactly like the curious young woman she’d been pretending to be all evening.

She leaned toward Evenson with an interested smile and asked question after question about magic.

Evenson obliged.

With effortless charm, he told her one amusing story after another about his experiences.

But throughout the conversation, one thing bothered him.

The more entertaining his stories became, the warmer the atmosphere grew.

And yet the sensation of cold dread crawling up his back became stronger.

It was almost as though two invisible voices were whispering somewhere behind him.

Look.

Your death flag is glowing.

Was this father and daughter actually planning something?

Evenson lifted his wineglass and used the motion to discreetly observe them.

Nothing.

No suspicious movements.

No hidden hostility.

Nothing at all.

Just his imagination.

Again.

He shook his head, lowered the glass, and returned his attention to Stephanie.

Across the table, Gideon Malick watched everything with the patience of a professional schemer.

He smiled whenever appropriate.

He laughed whenever necessary.

But his eyes missed nothing.

Eventually, he decided the timing was right.

Stephanie had already established enough rapport with Evenson.

So Gideon finally entered the conversation.

"Your stories are fascinating."

He smiled warmly.

"Actually, I’ve always been interested in magic myself. Over the years, I’ve collected various objects said to possess magical properties, according to history and legend."

He paused.

"Would you be willing to take a look at some of them?"

Evenson’s pupils contracted slightly.

There it was.

The real reason he’d been invited.

He knew exactly what take a look meant.

If an item turned out to be valuable, Malick wanted Evenson to identify it.

And if Evenson could identify it, perhaps he could also help him acquire more.

Or sell them.

Either way, this was precisely the conversation Evenson had been waiting for.

"My pleasure."

Malick immediately brightened.

He rose and retrieved a small wooden chest from a cabinet behind him.

He brought it to the table, opened it, and carefully placed its contents in front of Evenson.

Five objects.

Evenson looked them over.

"Hmm. These are pretty interesting."

He picked up a golden mask.

It was easily the most obviously valuable-looking object on the table.

"Solid gold."

He turned it over in his hands.

"The style looks somewhat..."

He hesitated.

"Hmm."

Stephanie glanced at it.

"Mayan?"

"Yes."

Evenson nodded confidently.

"That’s probably it. This thing should be worth quite a bit."

He examined the mask again.

"But I’m not sensing any magical energy from it."

He continued turning it over in his hands, completely missing the brief flash of disappointment in Gideon’s eyes.

Malick’s disappointment had nothing to do with the mask’s lack of magical properties.

Because the mask had no magical properties.

It wasn’t even ancient.

A few days earlier, Malick had hired someone to manufacture it, artificially age it, and add it to the collection.

Several of the other objects on the table had been prepared in the same way.

This entire display was a test.

Malick wanted to determine whether Evenson was genuinely capable of identifying magical artifacts before revealing the one object that actually mattered.

Unfortunately, Evenson’s first answer had already exposed a weakness.

The mask wasn’t Mayan.

It was based on indigenous African designs.

Evenson had correctly sensed that it possessed no magic, but his historical knowledge was clearly lacking.

That was considerably different from the image Malick had formed of him.

He had expected an ancient and incredibly knowledgeable sorcerer who understood every forgotten civilization and magical tradition on Earth.

Apparently, Evenson wasn’t quite that man.

Evenson reached for another object.

"This one is more interesting."

It was an old revolver.

Its design looked archaic, and the weapon was covered with strange engravings, including several symbols that resembled runes.

"A Dragoon?"

Evenson examined it.

"I remember this style being called that."

"Colt," Malick corrected.

He leaned back.

"According to the story, this weapon was created by an old gunslinger in the American West who possessed magical abilities."

He smiled.

"The legend claims this gun could kill anything."

Malick’s expression became slightly more dramatic.

"Even demons."

"That’s exaggerated."

Evenson set the revolver down.

"There is some magic in it. It could probably kill a lesser demon."

He shrugged.

"But against something truly powerful?"

He shook his head.

"It wouldn’t stand a chance."

Evenson looked over the remaining objects.

Then he glanced at Malick.

"Mr. Malick..."

His tone became slightly bored.

"Are these really all you wanted me to examine?"

Malick raised an eyebrow.

"These aren’t interesting enough?"

"Hmm."

Evenson smiled.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he lifted one hand.

The cabinet behind Malick suddenly opened by itself.

Before anyone could react, something flew out from inside.

It landed neatly in Evenson’s hand.

A transparent cube of reinforced glass.

Inside was a black stone.

Its surface was so dark that it was impossible to determine what material it was made from.

Evenson stared at it.

For the first time since arriving at the estate, his expression showed genuine interest.

"That..."

He turned the cube slightly.

"Now that is interesting."

His smile widened.

"Very interesting."

Malick’s eyes narrowed.

The test had finally reached the part that mattered.

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