Every spell comes with a price. This was the guiding principle for all spellcasters after the end of the Age of Magic. However, Wanda had never known this before. Nor did Solomon know exactly how much of a debt she had accumulated in the past. These debts were a noose around her neck, and the switch to the trapdoor lay in Chthon's hands. The moment the Great Shadow pulled the lever, she would hang—and then her body would finally serve its true purpose: a vessel, a tool.
No matter how much Wanda resisted, Solomon needed her to remember. From the most painful parts to the moments of miraculous intervention, she had to recall everything. He knew this was yet another wound inflicted upon her, but magic was not something that cared for kindness. Especially not hers—her innate magic belonged to the filthiest, most vile branches of dark magic. The side effects of every spell she cast were far greater than those of white magic. Given what he had seen so far, her mind was already in a fragile state, ravaged by forces she barely understood. If they did not trace her debts back to their source, it would be irresponsible—not just to her, but to everyone.
"I'm sorry. We won't talk about that for now."
He ended the lesson, dissolving the illusionary models, pushing aside the books and table. Then, through a portal, he retrieved food and drinks, casually steering the conversation toward the Maximoff twins' past—about their lives and the incredible things they had experienced.
The warmth of red tea and the sweetness of cake softened Wanda's resistance. She sniffled, wiped her nose, and slowly began recounting her past. Pietro interjected occasionally, adding details and correcting her where their memories diverged. Some parts of their recollections were completely different. What now seemed like trivial matters—even amusing enough for them to laugh at their younger selves—Solomon took note of carefully.
For instance, the time they were starving on the streets and miraculously found a wallet. Or how they had escaped from human traffickers under circumstances that bordered on the impossible.
Their life as street children had been harsh, yet neither suffered from malnutrition. In a war-torn country, such a thing was nothing short of a miracle.
Time had buried the truth, leaving only uncertainties. Even with Solomon's vast knowledge of the arcane, he couldn't determine how deeply Chthon had influenced their past. The mountain of clues needed thorough investigation. He would have to make a trip to N'Garai himself—to see, with his own eyes, the state of Chthon's seal.
That was the greatest threat to the Prime Material Universe.
Wanda was merely a minor move in Chthon's grand game of escaping his prison and invading reality. In the vast Astral Sea, countless other twisted horrors lurked—ancient magical entities that fed on belief and emotion. Every single one of them was capable of destroying humanity, of annihilating all of reality.
It was Kamar-Taj's duty to fight these horrors until the end of time, ensuring humanity's continued survival.
That duty was Solomon's burden to bear. His inescapable fate.
"Gene Alchemy," Maya Hansen explained.
"To put it simply, our current advancements allow us to selectively knock out genes that suppress muscle growth, such as myostatin, IGF (insulin-like growth factor), or α-actinin-3. This enables us to accelerate muscle regeneration.
By inducing the body to self-produce large amounts of antioxidant enzymes like superoxide dismutase, catalase, and glutathione peroxidase, we can slow down the aging process.
We've also enhanced erythropoiesis, increasing the oxygen-carrying capacity of blood.
At the same time, I've found that both Asgardians and your own DNA exhibit widespread overexpression of telomerase in their chromosomes, as well as cells capable of dividing far beyond the standard limit of 10¹⁶ cycles. With the help of your magic and the Extremis-virus-based gene-editing tools, we've successfully implemented these traits into ordinary human cells."
"So we can now create Super Soldiers even stronger than Captain America?"
"If that's not enough for you, we can always throw in an extra heart," Maya said, stretching lazily.
She had taken full advantage of the past few days to rest, while Shuri handled security measures. Solomon had essentially given her a short vacation.
"Or another lung."
"You know I want more than that, Maya."
Solomon's gaze was unwavering.
"I have armor and weapons prepared for them. If they're only at Captain America's level, they'll never be able to use what I've built. Keep going, Maya Hansen."
"This is already beyond the limits of human technology, Solomon."
"Our enemies don't care about limits."
The sorcerer lowered his eyes to the report in his hands, speaking without looking up.
"Remember the creature they carried out of my office that day? There are billions of those things out there. A single Captain America wouldn't be able to defeat even one. I need stronger warriors."
"Hmm? And you're still not going to tell me what exactly happened in this office that day?"
"It was nothing more than an old man's prank, born out of boredom."
Solomon waved a hand dismissively as he leaned back in his newly restored office chair.
"Don't stress too much. I gave you time to rest so you'd be ready for the next phase of work. The prophecy tells me that soon, in Siberia, I will obtain something crucial—something that will advance, and possibly even complete, this project. It's a higher-dimensional perspective, an intuition that walks along the river of time. You can trust my prophecy."
"And what exactly is this thing? Some kind of technology?"
"I don't know. I only know that it will help us. That's all."
Solomon didn't lift his gaze to the young biologist in her white coat. He remained curled up in his seat, much like a garden eel burrowed in the sand.
"You are important to me, Maya. I don't want anything to happen to you. Your safety is the foundation of the Eternal City. Do you understand?"
"Of course I do."
Maya Hansen smiled mischievously.
"So when do I get to go shopping? You promised."
"Take a security detail from the Sisterhood with you."
Ignoring her real implication, Solomon lowered his head again, returning to his report.
It wasn't until the heavy office doors closed behind her with a deep thud that he finally looked up, letting out a long sigh of relief.
A garden eel peeks out of the sand, swaying gently with the currents.
The doors suddenly slammed open again.
Solomon immediately shrank back down.
"My Lord."
Stephanie strode into the office, handing over a document with an eager smile.
"We've taken over nearly all of Hydra's pharmaceutical companies. Whitehall's reach has been severed—this includes the World Vaccine Organization."
Her grin widened.
"My father wants to know when we can launch a full-scale attack on Whitehall. He still doesn't know who the real enemy is, since we made all acquisitions under Baron Strucker's name."
"Whitehall won't fall for it."
"Of course not," Stephanie smirked. "But he also won't suspect that it's the remnants of Hydra's old guard slicing him apart from within."
Her eyes gleamed.
"We need his research, don't we?"
"Yes. But not yet."
Solomon spoke nonchalantly.
"He will lose. We will win. But I still need Whitehall to push forward certain… global developments."
"Everyone is a tool."
"Including myself."
Solomon's voice was calm.
"Let him live for now. I need him as bait."
Stephanie was nearly entranced by the sheer ruthlessness of it.
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