The alloy hatch sealed shut, cutting off Solomon's view of the stars.
The ship was navigating through an asteroid belt. He could hear the pattering of debris against the hull—a relentless percussion, like torrential rain hammering a metal rooftop.
But there was no petrichor here. No scent of rain soaking into the earth.
Only the stench of leaking fuel, the burnt tang of aging pipes, the stale rot of recycled air. And—perhaps the worst of all—the greasy, charred odor of the modified corpses of smugglers.
The ship's frame groaned—a barely perceptible, teeth-grinding whine, as if it could snap in half at any moment under the gravitational pull of the nearby planet.
A world ravaged by industrial pollution.
A toxic atmosphere blanketed the entire planet.
Xandar's government had long abandoned it.
After stripping it of all resources—water, magma, everything—they sold it to a casino mogul.
Now, it was a dead world.
No wind. No geothermal activity. No oceans.
Just neon lights, pulsing through the polluted sky—beckoning to passing ships like a siren's call.
And apparently, it also had cyborg prostitutes.
That was interesting.
Solomon couldn't wait to bring one back to Earth for disassembly.
This planet—this floating casino—was their next stop.
Solomon didn't care to remember its name.
He had no interest in taking over the smugglers' business.
But he did need a crew to pilot the ship.
When they first boarded, the smuggler captain had intended to sell them off to the casino's owner.
So, naturally—
Everything that once belonged to that smuggler…
Was now Solomon's.
Ordinarily, the remaining crew would've mutinied, fighting for control of the ship.
But after Solomon executed a few of the unruly ones—
They fell in line.
These rats, filthier than the Ravagers themselves, submitted to their new captain.
Solomon made them a promise:
Follow the planned course—
And they'd all get paid.
Even more than the fool bleeding out on the floor had promised them.
After all, it was all digital currency. Gene-locked. Easily forged.
And to prove their loyalty—
The crew gifted him some very expensive hallucinogens.
To be honest?
They weren't bad.
Made him feel high for a few minutes.
His enhanced metabolism burned through the toxins in seconds, rendering even the deadliest drugs useless against him.
Merlin, that old bastard, took the rest—
Claiming they'd be useful for Dave.
Apparently, it could induce hallucinations—enough to help him forget the nightmares.
Even separated by several airtight chambers, Solomon could feel Dave beginning to wake.
Only a mage would be able to sense it.
The crew had no idea about the etheric currents shifting around them.
Nor could they feel the filthy malice trailing behind them.
This was only the first phase of Dave's training.
Merlin's method was simple—and merciless.
Seek possession.
Resist.
Expel.
Repeat.
Over and over again—until he built resistance.
En-Ngarai does not tolerate weak sorcerers.
The descendants of its practitioners learned this at three or four years old.
At that age, their parents would take them to stare directly at Chthon's Black Fortress—
And endure the madness of the Great Shadow.
From birth, they were taught that sacrificing their lives to maintain the seal was their duty.
And if a child showed signs of corruption—
No matter how much it hurt—
The parents would kill them before they could fall to Chthon.
To protect the seal.
Dave did not yet know the cruelty of En-Ngarai.
But he would.
The entire universe—even Earth itself—
Was built upon the bones of generations of sacrificed sorcerers.
Both Kamar-Taj and the Merlinian Order had bled for this cause—
Dying in the shadows.
Their war was endless.
An eternal struggle with no reward.
Many of them didn't even understandwhy they had to die.
Dave had to become stronger.
He had to carry this burden.
He had to embrace the endless sacrifices—
Buy the universe more time.
For an ordinary university student?
This was impossible.
Even if Dave wanted to take responsibility for the Merlinian Order—
This was beyond anything he had ever imagined.
What kind of bullshit was this?!
Some ancient comic book cliché?
The kind of nonsense he used to dream about in elementary school?!
He wasn't Harry Potter!
There was no lightning scar on his forehead!
He had already killed his Dark Lord!
What was this—?
Did Voldemort have a backup somewhere?!
Merlin was helping him find his courage.
And this?
This was even harder than facing Morgan le Fay's avatar.
Dave had to stand against the infinity of the stars.
Against the most terrifying, most insane entities in existence.
Solomon did not show Dave the Silver Key.
He feared the depths of that dark knowledge might shatter his mind.
As Merlin had said—
"Slowly."
"We still have time."
"There is still hope."
Cheap hope was the most precious thing in a dark future.
Merlin had shown him what was to come.
Solomon had to be ready.
Meanwhile, on Earth…
"Where the hell is Solomon?"
Natasha Romanoff was completely unaware that Solomon had vanished without a trace.
In fact, none of the Avengers knew where he was.
When she first heard he had taken leave, she hadn't thought much of it.
But his absence dragged on for an absurd length of time—
And then she knew something was wrong.
So she came looking for answers.
But Stephanie gave her nothing.
"That's classified."
Stephanie barely spared Natasha a glance.
She was busy—coordinating the delicate relations between Wakanda and the Eternal City.
Wakanda was testing them.
With their aging king, T'Chaka, growing weaker, they were using Solomon's absence to probe the Eternal City's defenses.
Stephanie had been forced to invoke Solomon's direct orders—
Citing parallel-universe criminals as a cover—
To restrict Wakandan scientists to limited areas.
The Sisterhood patrolled those research facilities, fully armed, under the guise of protecting Wakanda's scientists.
But in truth—
They were watching them.
To ensure they never uncovered Solomon's secrets.
Stephanie was losing patience.
She wanted this problem solved—
Soon.
But Solomon had told her—
"T'Chaka is already dealt with."
"Just wait."
So she had.
In the meantime, she pulled in more administrators from the Malick family—
Including ex-Hydra operatives who had sworn loyalty.
And she had no mercy for them.
The moment they stepped through the portal into the Eternal City—
Stephanie, with the Sisterhood's help, confiscated their comms and executed the spies on the spot.
The Malicks profited immensely.
No one in Hydra dared challenge their authority—
Not when they had direct backing within the U.S. government.
"I need to know where Solomon is."
Natasha didn't back down.
"We had an agreement. He can't just disappear."
"Is there some kind of crisis we don't know about?"
"No."
Stephanie rolled her eyes—
And tried to shove the spy out of the office.
There were too many secrets here.
She couldn't let Romanoff walk away with any of them.
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