Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

"What a beautiful day. Everything I wished for came true..."

The next morning, Evenson walked out of his bedroom humming to himself.

He looked a little tired after the events of the previous night, but there was no hiding the satisfaction written all over his face.

After a quick wash, he headed straight for the kitchen.

Cleya was still asleep.

Under normal circumstances, that would have been almost impossible. Her disciplined routine at Kamar-Taj usually had her awake before Evenson. Yet the sun was already well above the horizon, and she was still sleeping soundly.

Apparently, last night had exhausted her.

Evenson decided she deserved a proper breakfast.

A breakfast made with love.

He stood at the kitchen counter, closed his eyes, and took a slow breath.

Then he picked up a handful of cleaned green onions and tossed them into the air.

His eyes snapped open.

A flash of demonic power passed through them.

"Ulthalesh!"

Spectral scythes materialized around him, slicing through the air in a blur.

By the time the green onions landed on the cutting board, they had been reduced to perfectly chopped pieces.

Next came the rice.

Evenson rinsed a scoop of it, added water, placed everything into a clay pot, and set it on the counter without even bothering to light the stove.

Then he opened the refrigerator.

There wasn’t much food left.

He looked through the remaining ingredients until his eyes landed on the only real piece of meat.

He picked it up and nodded decisively.

"You’ve been chosen. Sarah’s prized pork chop."

He heated a frying pan, drizzled in some olive oil, and laid the pork chop down.

Seasonings followed.

Then Evenson took two steps backward, bent his knees, leaned forward dramatically, and extended one hand toward the pan.

"Fel Flame..."

At the same time, he grunted and tossed the clay pot into the air with his other hand.

He caught it perfectly.

"Immolation!"

Fel flame erupted beneath the pan and around the clay pot.

The rice cooked.

The pork chop seared from the outside inward.

Within fifteen minutes, Evenson had assembled what he considered a perfect Warlock breakfast: steaming rice topped with a beautifully cooked pork chop and sprinkled with finely chopped green onion.

He admired his masterpiece with great satisfaction.

Then he put the lid on the pot, added a spoon, chopsticks, and napkins, and carried the whole thing into the bedroom.

"Mm..."

Cleya had been sleeping deeply, but the smell finally reached her.

Her nose twitched twice.

She slowly opened her eyes.

When she saw Evenson approaching with breakfast, a lazy smile appeared on her face.

She reached up and gently touched his cheek.

Evenson kissed her fingertips.

"Breakfast. I made it myself. You’re officially the first person who’s ever gotten this treatment."

"Mmm."

Cleya answered sleepily.

She disappeared beneath the blankets for a moment, moving around as she pulled on her clothes. Then she sat up and took the pot from Evenson.

The moment she lifted the lid, her sleepy eyes flew wide.

"My God!"

She stared into the pot.

"Can cooking actually make food glow?"

The pot wasn’t illuminated by some mystical culinary achievement.

Instead, a small battery-powered light bulb, partially wrapped in foil, had been hidden beneath the lid.

Evenson pulled it out with a grin.

"Surprise! Didn’t see that coming, did you?"

Cleya’s expression froze.

"Ha... ha..."

She managed two awkward laughs.

Evenson handed her the breakfast, still grinning.

"Come on. Try it."

Cleya leaned forward and smelled the food.

A small smile appeared.

She seemed genuinely pleased.

Then she picked up the chopsticks and began eating.

A Westerner unfamiliar with the utensils might have struggled, but Cleya had grown up at Kamar-Taj and had spent time training at the Hong Kong Sanctum. Chopsticks were hardly a challenge for her.

"Mmm..."

Her cheeks quickly filled with food.

"It’s... okay."

The words came out muffled.

The speed at which she was eating suggested an entirely different review.

For a moment, everything looked wonderfully domestic.

The sun was already high in the sky.

The two of them sat together in bed, sharing breakfast.

It was almost unbearably peaceful.

What Evenson didn’t know was that two pairs of eyes were watching from far away.

"Ugh!"

Inside the Fel Order’s stronghold, Oleses stared unhappily into a crystal ball.

The image within showed Evenson and Cleya eating breakfast together.

"So they’ve finally reached this point."

"Wasn’t that inevitable?"

Salorass lounged sideways on a nearby sofa with one leg crossed over the other.

Beside her sat a female servant, carefully grinding one of Salorass’s hooves with a power grinder.

As a refined Eredar, Salorass considered well-maintained hooves an essential part of her appearance.

"Still, it looks like our little speech worked."

Oleses shut off the crystal ball.

She had no desire to keep watching that nauseatingly wholesome scene.

"That little wildcat finally decided she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life as a decorative pet. She’s already started asking Evenson for power."

"Of course she has."

Salorass smiled confidently.

"Aside from that bald Ancient One, the rest of the mystic order is practically useless. If she wants to increase her power quickly, who else could she turn to besides Evenson?"

That had been precisely what the two Eredar sisters had intended.

The previous afternoon, they had gone to Cleya and deliberately provoked her.

They had belittled her.

They had flaunted their own power.

They hadn’t done it merely to indulge their vanity.

They wanted Cleya to change.

They wanted her dissatisfaction to push her toward greater strength.

And after considering her options, they’d concluded that if Cleya wanted to grow stronger quickly, there was really only one viable path.

Evenson.

She would have to ask him to teach her Warlock magic.

And that was exactly what they wanted.

Someone desperate for power.

Someone seeking Warlock magic.

Could there be a better leash?

The Eredar sisters were confident that, from this point forward, Cleya would be dancing in the palms of their hands.

Then, just as they were enjoying their success, Oleses suddenly sighed.

"But still..."

Her tone became strangely bitter.

"That man has never made breakfast for us."

Salorass pouted.

"There’s nothing we can do about that."

She glanced down.

"After we finish, he’s always the one who sleeps so deeply he can’t get out of bed."

The grinding wheel suddenly spat out a plume of smoke.

The servant froze.

The machine had burned out.

She lifted the ballistic helmet covering her head, calmly removed the ruined grinding wheel, and replaced it with another.

Only the third one so far.

Salorass looked down at her freshly polished hoof.

"Everything about this world is wonderful except maintaining our hooves. It’s such a hassle."

The servant stared at her in silence.

A hassle?

And whose fault is that?

She was using an industrial grinder designed for polishing steel rebar.

On average, it took five grinding wheels to finish one of Salorass’s hooves.

And somehow, this was supposed to be her fault?

Before she could express any of those thoughts, the communications device inside the room suddenly crackled to life.

"Master! Something’s wrong!"

The voice on the other end was frantic.

"Our old operation was attacked! Someone smashed the place!"

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