An elite spy's instinct had always told her that Solomon was hiding many critical secrets. Even after knowing him for years, Natasha Romanoff had never been able to pry from him a single piece of information he didn't want to give.
A weirdo. A man of countless secrets. Incredibly smart. A magician out of myth. That was the impression all members of the Avengers had of Solomon Damonet. Perhaps now they had a new impression to add—someone who had begun to develop a solution to the problem of quantum field theory without gravity. Dr. Banner seemed particularly eager to talk to him about quantum chromodynamics, though few could understand a word of it.
Romanoff was one of the few in the Avengers who knew a portion of Solomon's secrets, and yet the more she learned, the more mysterious he became. The Salem incident had only deepened that impression. No one truly knew what he gained from that event—it was as though everything had become wrapped in an opaque shell, shaping him into the version of himself they now saw.
Solomon Damonet was a man of rare purity. From the moment of his birth, he had been haunted by visions of catastrophe, suffering for years under the burden of prophecy. When S.H.I.E.L.D. still existed, a special intelligence unit under Nick Fury had concluded that Solomon's gift for prophecy was also the source of his mental illness.
But that was false. In Romanoff's eyes, Solomon had resisted prophecy with sheer willpower, preparing for a disaster that might never come—just like the heroes of ancient epics.
This was a one-sided perception she had pieced together from countless truths and lies.
Maybe he was right. The catastrophe he had shown her must be resisted by any means necessary. Sacrifices had to be made.
The thought clenched her heart like the cold hand of a corpse. A chill ran down her spine. Natasha shook her head quickly, trying to cast it from her mind.
"You disagree with the tactic, Natasha?" Steve Rogers looked up from the holographic table.
"No. I just think I need a shower," she replied with a strained smile. "That Bifrost sandstorm is making me itch all over."
She glanced at Solomon sitting nearby. He winked at her, as if he knew exactly what she'd been thinking.
"Same here," he said. "Not surprising though—I'm one of the only two with long hair. Thor's scalp doesn't count. I suspect Asgardian dust mites are the size of ants."
Thor let out a hearty laugh. He liked this odd little brother with a sense of humor.
The Avengers were still largely welcoming of Solomon—not only because of his irreplaceable role in the Battle of New York, but also because those who knew even a sliver of his backstory couldn't help but admire the magician trained from childhood who had fought without rest ever since.
Some might disapprove of his methods or ideas, but none could deny his achievements and capabilities.
Especially Steve Rogers. He had fought alongside Ghost Rider, participated in the battle at the monastery, and had stood shoulder to shoulder with Solomon on the helicarrier, repelling an assault from vampire clans and human traitors. He had seen firsthand the grand scale of the magical world and the tip of the iceberg of demonic invasions.
Afterward, Rogers had personally urged Nick Fury not to interfere with Solomon's actions. That kind of threat was beyond anything ordinary people could handle—it required professionals.
And so, Solomon had become the go-to expert on magical issues within the Avengers and what remained of S.H.I.E.L.D. Even Rogers kept the events of that mission classified. Any who asked about it met with firm rejection, and those agents who had witnessed the horrors were never seen again.
Natasha Romanoff remained sharp as ever. She knew Solomon had never actually said he joined the Avengers. Only Stark, in his optimism, assumed he was part of the family. Solomon always kept a certain distance, never fully in or out.
And so, after the Quinjet slowed from over an hour of flight and docked at the top floor of Stark Tower, Solomon stepped off, said goodbye to the others, and opened a portal—disappearing without a word. No one knew where he went.
"Where did he go?" Steve Rogers asked. Stark shrugged—he didn't know either. J.A.R.V.I.S. said Solomon had a class to attend. But Dr. Banner knew Oxford University placed no attendance requirements on him.
"Maybe he's delivering an official letter. Usually Heimdall handles those things—wizard paperwork," Thor said with a shrug, walking into the tower, hammer in hand. "That's not a warrior's work."
"Heimdall," Solomon murmured, tilting his head as he looked at the lord of Himinbjörg. The great sword Hfu, adorned with a human-like face, rested its tip on the gilded floor. The silver-white branches of Yggdrasil shimmered with prismatic light. Heimdall's eyes, which could see all the universe, stared into Solomon's like they meant to pierce his obsidian pupils and rip out his soul.
Solomon stared back, unafraid.
"You promised me Asgard's political struggles wouldn't affect Earth."
"Thor is the future king of Asgard."
"But he isn't now."
"He is." Heimdall's voice was low and firm. "You know it, and so do I."
"The All-Father isn't here. You'd better rein Loki in. That bastard recently suggested levying a tithe on Earth. If he really tries it, I'll storm the Golden Palace and cut off that bastard's head myself."
"He is a prince of Asgard." Heimdall remained calm. He could smell the lust for battle on this young man. He had seen it before—in fifteen-hundred-year-old Thor, and now in this twenty-year-old arcanist. It was natural.
What made him hesitate was that Kamar-Taj didn't produce fools. He couldn't tell if this was an act—an excuse to justify real action. Kamar-Taj would have reason. After all, Loki's reign had been absurd and chaotic, sparking unrest in many realms.
"The All-Father made a pact with the Sorcerer Supreme. Do you want to be the one to break it?" Heimdall asked.
"If Loki is the one who breaks it—if he treats oaths like words written in snow—then not even those carved in stone will save him. Earth will never pay tribute to Asgard. That's carved in stone too, in sword and gun."
Solomon tossed the official document at Heimdall's feet, then turned and walked toward the Bifrost.
"Asgard has already paid once to save his life. I don't mind making the Golden Palace do it again—so long as Asgard can still afford it, and so long as Loki hasn't squandered the Aesir's inheritance."
Heimdall said nothing.
Solomon was very sure that Asgard would pay—quietly, as part of the military budget for suppressing unrest—and that Loki would never know. And to funnel that money into the palace? A newly arrived, lavishly spending Asgardian merchant had every reason to be allowed into the Golden Palace.
He just hoped Lorelei's mission would go smoothly.
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Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 256)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 336)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 542)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 924)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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