The average human life span, if left untouched by genetic modification or any form of cultivation, hovers around a century at best — though naturally, daily habits and lifestyle choices do play their part in shaving years off or adding a few more.
Alex had always assumed that the gods of Asgard were bound by a similar limit, perhaps extended by their divine nature but otherwise unchanged. It never crossed his mind that the life span of Asgardians was actually tied directly to their strength — the greater their power, the longer they could stand against the erosion of time. Without constantly honing that strength, an ordinary Asgardian might only live for two or three centuries at most, which by divine standards was nothing remarkable.
At first, this notion struck Alex as odd — after all, weren't they gods? But the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. While the gods of Asgard were mighty, not every soul walking those golden streets carried Odin's bloodline or Thor's thunder; countless civilians among them were no stronger than ordinary people on Earth, living modest lives with no taste for conquest or battle.
He couldn't help but recall Hela, the fearsome Goddess of Death. Long ago, Odin had sealed her away because even he could not contain her boundless ambition. A thousand years slipped by with Hela's name buried in silence, so deeply hidden that even Thor — the mighty God of Thunder himself — lived for centuries never knowing he had an elder sister lurking behind a forgotten door.
It all lined up — the ordinary folk of Asgard must have passed away generations ago, taking any whispers of Hela with them. If they had truly lived for thousands of years without growing stronger, surely someone would have remembered her well enough for Thor to hear the truth long before Ragnarok came knocking. Even in the events of Thor: Ragnarok, when Hela broke free at last, she found it necessary to summon the people of Asgard and declare her return openly — proof enough that those who once feared her were long gone with time.
Turning these thoughts over in his mind, Alex felt the Asgardian blood now flowing in his veins surge with a quiet, steady power — it made perfect sense now. This power wasn't just about raw strength in battle; it came with a gift that lengthened the thread of life itself, weaving years into centuries if one could bear the weight of power to match. For him, this new legacy was nothing but a gain — the transfer alone had given his mind and body a vast expansion, as if someone had suddenly upgraded his storage by two hundred gigabytes overnight, and with every step forward in strength, his life span would stretch further ahead. Truly, this time, there were no downsides — only rewards waiting to be claimed.
"Good news — his body's completely stable now. Give him three to five days of proper rest and he'll be back on his feet without any complications," said the doctor standing at Alex's bedside, carefully double-checking the last lines of data scrolling across the monitor.
Hearing this, the other Avengers in the room let out subtle sighs of relief, trading quick glances as the weight on their shoulders eased a little.
For Thor, there was no reason to linger on Earth much longer — now that Alex's condition had been confirmed stable, he could finally set aside his worries for his new brother-in-arms.
After saying his goodbyes to everyone in the Tower, Alex watched as Thor, with the Cosmic Cube firmly in hand, departed alongside Loki, both of them stepping through the shimmering Bifrost that carried them back to the divine realm of Asgard without so much as a whisper left behind.
Dr. Bruce Banner and Captain America had their own matters to attend to as well, each slipping away soon after to pick up their separate threads of responsibility — the world, after all, rarely paused for long when the Avengers were involved.
As for Alex, during these few quiet days of forced rest, he naturally remained at Stark Tower — and when he wasn't sleeping off the lingering fatigue from his transformation, he found himself wandering into Tony's vast workshop, unable to resist peeking at whatever new piece of genius the billionaire inventor was piecing together.
He had to admit — in this world brimming with superhumans and alien threats, Tony Stark alone stood as the very definition of human brilliance turned weapon. Everywhere Alex looked in the lab, there were high-tech prototypes resting half-finished under spotlights, walls lined with holographic schematics shifting endlessly as Jarvis handled calculations at Tony's casual barked commands, and, most striking of all, the new Iron Man armor that was taking shape piece by piece under Tony's relentless hands.
The new vibranium alloy gloves caught Alex's eye more than anything else — designed to embed seamlessly into the palm sections of the armor, these gloves were not just an upgrade but an indispensable piece that would remain compatible no matter how many times Tony tore down and rebuilt the suit's core design. From what Alex could tell, the palm assembly would stay mostly unchanged even as Tony swapped out exoskeletons, propulsion systems, or repulsor tech — meaning this pair of gloves would serve him far into the future.
Staying in Stark Tower for these few days, Alex saw design after design, countless improvements scribbled onto glass boards or floating mid-air in Jarvis's clean blue projections. He might have been no scientist — definitely a step up from Captain America or Thor when it came to understanding tech, but still hopelessly out of his depth — yet watching Tony work was like witnessing an artist pour life into steel and energy, even if Alex couldn't follow half the theories behind it.
He did toy with the idea of copying Tony's entire trove of technological knowledge into his own mind — but the more he thought about it, the more pointless it seemed. His path was different. These blueprints wouldn't mean much when he could bend metal with a thought and stand toe-to-toe with gods. Besides, after copying Wuming's entire library of swordsmanship, the capacity of his so-called mental E drive had shrunk to just twenty-eight gigabytes — and he wasn't about to waste precious storage space on science he'd never fully use.
So, after two or three days of rest — his wounds closed, his mind sharp again — Alex decided it was time to move on. He still had Kamar-Taj on his mind, and no suit or workshop could keep him grounded when there was a path to mastering space magic waiting for him. After one last handshake and a half-joking warning from Tony not to break the laws of physics too badly, Alex stepped onto a flight bound for Nepal and left Stark Tower behind.
Two days later, the ancient stone walls of Kamar-Taj rose before him like a secret nestled in plain sight. The scent of burning incense curled through the courtyard as monks moved silently between doorways, and at the heart of it all stood the Ancient One, smiling warmly the moment Alex crossed the threshold.
In the past couple of days, Alex had already noticed subtle changes humming through his body — the blood of Asgard coursing deeper into his veins had toughened him further, lending him strength and vitality far beyond what he'd known before. More importantly, something else had begun to flicker awake.
With a faint hiss, Alex stretched out his palm and, with the barest spark of thought, drew a sliver of azure lightning into existence at his fingertips — a thin, stubborn spark that danced and cracked in the air like a restless serpent. It was weak for now, barely more than a static charge compared to what Thor could summon, but it was proof enough: the blood he'd taken from the God of Thunder was stirring to life.
"Welcome, Mr. Alex," the Ancient One greeted him, her voice gentle yet carrying the sort of weight that made it impossible not to straighten one's back. Despite her unimaginable power, she carried herself with a kindness that made the courtyard feel warmer than the Himalayan sun ever could.
"Thank you, Master," Alex said quietly, bowing his head with genuine respect. "I'll be in your care for the next few days."
The Ancient One's eyes flickered from the Wushuang Sword strapped across his back to the Mind Scepter resting in his hand — one a blade of unmatched sharpness, the other housing an Infinity Stone that practically hummed against her wards.
"Your sword suits you far better than that scepter does," she said after a moment's pause, a thoughtful look on her face. "It must be quite inconvenient to carry it in your hand at all times. If you'll trust me, I'd like to help you forge a magical vessel for the Mind Stone — something like the Eye of Agamotto, perhaps, so you can carry its power without it weighing down your grip."
Her words stirred a clear memory in Alex's mind — the Time Stone, kept in the Eye of Agamotto, safely worn as a simple pendant yet holding unimaginable power inside. Seeing the logic immediately, he nodded once.
Of course, the Ancient One knew better than to try claiming an Infinity Stone outright; instead, she guided Alex through the forging process herself. As the ritual began, she explained bits and pieces of magical knowledge, her voice calm and precise as she spoke of energies, seals, and conduits — though Alex, truth be told, barely paid half a mind to the explanations.
His real goal here wasn't to master the entire breadth of Kamar-Taj's mystic arts; he'd come for one thing alone — space magic. And for that, he didn't need every lesson spelled out in dusty tomes. What he truly wanted was the meditation technique that the Masters guarded so fiercely, the method for training mind and spirit alike until they could contain power vast enough to bend the fabric of space itself. And for that, he listened closely — every word about focusing one's spiritual core, every insight on pushing the mind deeper into calm until power rose naturally from within.