Stephanie fulfilled her role as a secretary to perfection. She silently listened to the secrets discussed at the dinner table, recording key information in her mind without making eye contact with anyone. If it weren't for Solomon's needs, she wouldn't utter a single word, much like the childhood companions of noble children in royal courts. She understood that this was an opportunity to enter the very core of Solomon's world, and she deeply valued the importance Solomon placed on her.
She heard Asgard's All-Father casually reveal numerous secrets as if chatting with a junior, recounting stories and hidden truths from tens of thousands of years ago. The All-Mother, on the other hand, offered guidance and critiques on Solomon's magical craftsmanship, especially the alchemical items he had recently created, which she lavishly praised. The look in the All-Mother's eyes sent shivers down Stephanie's spine, prompting her to retreat to the side, avoiding her gaze altogether. She keenly sensed the hidden dangers beneath the surface of these conversations. However, she didn't yet understand the motives behind these discussions, nor why the rulers of Asgard had come to Earth. She eagerly awaited Solomon to reveal more to her.
Solomon had once promised her a completely different world, to take her beyond the stars and into the abyss of infinity. That promise was now being fulfilled step by step. She had already seen aliens most Earthlings could never even dream of, as well as the vast array of civilizations across the cosmos. But this was not the end.
"Our destiny is to stand atop the galaxy, Stephanie," Solomon said, his tone gentle but carrying an undeniable authority. "This goal will take countless years to achieve. When unimaginable calamities descend, we will be the last line of defense for human civilization. That is what Kamar-Taj has always done—we are the protectors of humanity's order."
This lofty sense of mission was exactly what Stephanie had always pursued.
It was this same martyr-like mentality that had made her a devoted believer in Hydra. This was also how Hydra's conservative faction reinforced their ideological cohesion—by cultivating faith through noble missions and self-sacrifice. However, after Solomon showed her a grander world, that once aimless devotion and need for sacrifice found a new direction. She joined Solomon's cause, not purely out of submission to force.
Secrets—so many secrets. They exhilarated her.
As Odin ate his meal, he casually critiqued Solomon's combat techniques. The sorcerer could only lower his head and listen, occasionally patting the two large dogs begging beside him, sometimes tearing off a piece of meat to feed the raven strutting on the table. Leaning against his side was a staff covered in a layer of black soot—only those who knew its true nature would recognize it as the legendary Gungnir.
"Young people these days all prefer unconventional weapons," Odin remarked. Of course, by "young," he meant anyone under two thousand years old. "Thor likes his hammer, Loki favors his daggers," the All-Father grumbled, clearly displeased with his sons. "Real men use axes, longswords, or spears."
Frigga rolled her eyes, knowing Odin was spouting nonsense again.
That hammer—he was the one who gave it to Thor in the first place. Of course, whenever someone brought this up, Odin would sigh heavily and start talking about his disobedient daughter.
If not for the weight of responsibility, Odin would have preferred to be a space pirate, leading Asgardian warriors in boarding enemy ships and plundering them. But the burden of ruling the Nine Realms kept him firmly bound to his throne. Such a carefree life was forever beyond his reach.
Looking at Solomon, Odin saw a reflection of this struggle. If Thor still had some time to indulge in reckless adventures, Solomon, on the other hand, had been shackled by duty since birth, never allowing himself to act out of line.
If only Thor and Loki were as well-behaved as Solomon.
Odin sighed, knowing that such responsibility was too cruel for one person to bear. He had once sought out prophecy, but the results were not reassuring—both Solomon and Thor would face an unimaginably terrifying future, a cataclysm that would engulf the Nine Realms. Odin had prepared for this in many ways, but it still didn't seem enough.
He had gathered the souls of fallen warriors and forged them into Einherjar, not sending them to Valhalla but hiding them in the land of the dead. When he banished his daughter to Helheim, he left behind some contingency plans for her as well.
Odin, ever the cunning strategist, never put all his eggs in one basket.
No matter who ultimately won, Asgard would always stand strong.
"Motherfuck!!"
Nick Fury leapt out of his filthy bedding in rage as he read Natasha Romanoff's report. He finally knew where Solomon had stashed all the resources he had seized. But at the same time, he was also painfully aware that there was little he could do to make Solomon hand them over.
According to Romanoff's intel, Solomon seemed to have a manufacturing facility where something even larger than the Helicarriers was being built. The real problem was that Fury feared Solomon might launch an attack against the world's governments. The combination of enigmatic magic and advanced, unknown technology could allow Solomon to crush the Avengers with ease. Fury still vividly remembered how Solomon had dealt with the Hulk—he hadn't even needed to see him to neutralize the problem.
Stabilizing Solomon's emotions had become the top priority.
Fury glanced around. Most of the lowlifes in the hideout were either sleeping or high. He sank back into his grimy blankets and sent out a secret directive through a covert channel.
Natasha Romanoff, holding her laptop, presented the directive to Solomon.
"This is it?" Solomon raised an eyebrow. "Is that really all Nick Fury has up his sleeve?"
"I don't know what orders he gave Agent Hill, but I'm certain he's not telling me the whole truth," Natasha said, inhaling the lingering scent on Solomon. Frigga's lunch had been overwhelmingly extravagant—not only had it included stewed bear meat and grilled steak, but it had resembled a Christmas family feast. The rich aroma of the dishes clung to Solomon.
"Roast chicken too? Where the hell were you eating? And what's this fur from?"
"Wolf, or maybe dog." He turned to Princess Shuri. "Can you trace the signal's source?"
"I can't. Wakanda's communication protocols are entirely different from the outside world," Shuri said, pointing to another computer. "But they can."
"Don't let artificial intelligence access military satellites—at least not yet," Solomon warned, closing the laptop and shutting off the screen. He completely ignored the conversation the AI and Samaritan were having.
His wariness toward artificial intelligence was extreme. Such entities were too easily manipulated, turning into tools for others. AI had no loyalty—it operated purely on logic. Until hardware improvements and software refinements were made, Solomon had no intention of allowing AI to take on too much responsibility.
"I need to find Nick Fury," Solomon declared from behind his desk. "In one hour, I will use divination magic to locate him. The AI can use facial recognition to track him down." He added coldly, "I know what Nick Fury plans to do, but I will not allow it—because he intends to bring those disgusting green-skinned shapeshifters onto Earth!"
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