Wanda lacked real combat experience—one of the downsides of staying in a HYDRA base. While it provided ample food and warmth, it lacked the training facilities that she and Pietro needed. HYDRA never truly understood the nature of the Maximoff twins' abilities; they were still experimenting on test subjects with the Mind Stone in hopes of creating more superpowered individuals.
Solomon found this regrettable, and just as he was about to conclude the lesson, Wanda eagerly showcased her latest achievement.
Mind control—her primary area of study.
In the dimly lit stone corridors of the ancient fortress, footsteps rustled softly. The sound of polished leather scraping against rough stone mixed with the dripping of melted snow seeping into the cracks—drip, drip, drip. The irregular steps and water droplets combined into a discordant rhythm. The poorly maintained castle windows stood like watchful eyes in the darkness, gazing down with solemn disapproval at the silhouettes below.
The figures moved stiffly, as though bound by invisible strings that burrowed into their flesh and muscles. Puppets guided by an unseen force.
Baroque pillars bore silent witness to the scene. Shattered windowpanes reflected moonlight into the eyes of the figures—eyes that were clouded, bloodshot, twitching incessantly, and crusted with filth. Their pupils, dilated and murky, mirrored the state of their tainted souls. From their parched, fractured throats came guttural rasping sounds, thick with foul phlegm and nearly coagulated black blood.
Only the crimson mist in their pupils gave their withered spirits a fleeting semblance of life, burning what little vitality remained. Their tattered leather shoes scraped the dust-covered mosaic floor, leaving a twisted, sickly trail in their wake.
From a shattered window above, a grotesque gargoyle perched, its malicious eyes glimmering red as it leered down in mockery at the scene unfolding below.
No.
This isn't life.
Solomon thought as he drew his paired swords from his waist.
No—
"Well done, Wanda."
Solomon opened his eyes and lightly ruffled Wanda Maximoff's hair, leaving her red locks in a mess.
"Infernal Mirage—your execution was excellent, and you even incorporated your own modifications," he remarked. "Your talent in enchantment magic is remarkable. However, this spell was only meant to expand your spell repertoire—it's unnecessary for you to focus on it. You should specialize in coercion-based magic, not charm spells. That's where your real strength lies."
"How did you see through it so quickly?"
Wanda hadn't expected Solomon to break her illusion so easily and felt a little discouraged.
"You've never seen Haitian zombies—the living dead that walk don't look like that. Haitian Vodou zombies are actually still alive; they just appear dead due to the effects of certain drugs. You've also never encountered true necromantic zombies. The process of their creation has many variations, but the state of decay and stench of the corpse depend on the materials used. Your mindscape illusion was vivid, but it lacked realism. Real zombies are nothing like those in television shows."
He continued, "If we have time, we can create a permanent zombie that follows simple commands or temporarily reanimate a corpse from a graveyard. That way, you'll see the difference for yourself. This is why I say you should focus on coercion-based spells instead of illusion magic. Manipulating reality is more powerful than crafting illusions."
Solomon had seen through the illusion by recognizing logical flaws in its spellwork—his primary attribute was intelligence.
Wanda, on the other hand, relied entirely on charisma as her primary stat. She instinctively tried to craft a convincing atmosphere, but she slipped up in the details. While coercion magic did involve intelligence, she was still a beginner, and mistakes were to be expected.
After all, not everyone was like Solomon, who could pull out a bizarre array of spells at any given moment to adapt to any situation. So far, there hadn't been a single instance where his magic failed him.
Wanda, like most spellcasters, had to maximize the effectiveness of the spells she already knew. In a crisis, instead of thinking about what magic could counter a problem, she had to decide how to cast it and when to ensure the best outcome.
Even though Solomon had given her a wand, it didn't solve the fundamental issue. And it wasn't even a particularly rare wand—her raw power as a coercion magic user was more than enough to keep her alive in battle.
Solomon focused on theoretical foundations, just as he had at Kamar-Taj. Theory was everything. If he hadn't internalized this belief, he would never have been able to endure years of studying foundational knowledge before even casting a single spell.
Watching others wield magic while he was stuck reading books—most people couldn't imagine the sheer frustration.
Patience was the only virtue. Mental discipline was more important than spellcasting ability.
But when Solomon tried to teach Wanda this mindset, he realized he had made a mistake.
To Wanda, magic was like a toy. Every new spell she learned felt like acquiring a new plaything. And Solomon's seemingly endless trove of magic fascinated her endlessly.
This kind of excitement was dangerous—it led spellcasters to become reckless. Kamar-Taj had ways to suppress this urge, but Wanda had never gone through their foundational training. She would never understand the importance of restraint.
"...I think I'll pass," Wanda said after some thought, shaking her head at the suggestion of animating a corpse. It was beyond what she could accept.
Even though she hadn't learned necromantic spells, she could easily guess that raising the dead involved some truly vile dark magic. Today's lesson had been about recognizing black magic, not practicing it. Solomon hadn't even introduced her to identifying materials like rotten fingers, shrunken heads, or dripping entrails—so far, it had been tolerable.
Solomon let out a quiet sigh of relief.
"Master, why are you smiling?"
"It's nothing," he replied. "I'm just pleased with you."
He was pleased that Wanda showed disgust toward black magic. Even more, he was satisfied that she could suppress her curiosity.
That meant corruption from Chthon was nearly nonexistent.
Which meant this reckless gamble had been the right move.
Next, he needed to intensify Wanda's black magic education—not to teach her more dark spells, but to ensure she knew exactly what not to touch.
As long as Wanda remained clear-headed, Chthon's corruption would never take hold.
That means I win, Great Shadow.
Solomon nodded in satisfaction. He was already anticipating his reward from Gaea, the Elder Earth Goddess. He hoped to use this achievement to request an audience with her and finally resolve the challenges in his biological research lab.
Even though he had already traded knowledge with Yog-Sothoth, his own power alone wasn't enough to complete such an enormous project. He needed Gaea's help.
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