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Magic doesn't pop out of nowhere—it needs raw energy to fuel it.
Kamar-Taj mages borrow theirs from big shots like Vishanti or other dimensional lords. You chant specific spells and strike poses to tap in, like dialing up a cosmic hotline.
Asgardian magic works the same core way, but they pull from Asgard itself—a massive energy well right under their feet.
These gods are built like tanks, so most skip the spell-slinging for enchanted weapons, charging into brutal close-quarters brawls.
That's enchanting—infusing gear with magic for that extra punch.
Aidan had dabbled in this before. The flying sword for Fandral? Mind-controlled flight, size-shifting on demand. Hogun's Transformium orb? Gravity tweaks mid-fight. Both got Aidan's enchantment touch.
Asgard tech blends seamlessly with magic: Bi frost, shields, energy cannons... all powered by the realm's endless juice.
Earth mages tinker with tools too—the forging hammer in Aidan's kit is one—but most skip it. Humans don't have Asgardian lifespans; they're too busy fending off dimensional invasions to craft. They borrow power fast and dirty.
Tech can mimic a lot, but machines guzzle energy, break down, need fixes. Magic patches those holes, turning clunky gear into seamless killers.
...
Three days later.
Aidan crashed at Fandral's pad each night, then tagged along to central Asgard by day. Fandral drilled sword skills; Aidan soaked up magic.
In the Magic Hall, Frigga zeroed in on Aidan's vibe—here for weapon enchantments—so she hammered home lessons on infusing blades and tech with spells, her voice commanding the room like a general rallying troops.
The students? First time seeing a Earth boy dive into magic. Day one: polite intros, name swaps. Day two: full swarm, questions flying like arrows. They had no clue Earth had mages.
Break time? Aidan mobbed by a whirlwind of eager women, chatter buzzing like a hive.
...
"Do Earth mages prefer getting up close and personal in fights?" a blonde girl with a mischievous grin asked, sidling up as class wrapped.
The hall emptied out, apprentices streaming toward the exit. Aidan stood out like a sore thumb in the sea of female students.
"Yeah, depends on style. Me? I suit up in defensive gear, charge the front lines, and blast from the back with energy cannons," Aidan said with a grin.
"Haha, I figured you for illusion tricks!" Ivy laughed, then added with envy, "But you're picking this up crazy fast. Shield magic in one day? Impressive."
"Got some basics under my belt already—helps speed things along."
"It's not just that. We've sunk way more time into magic than you," Ivy shook her head. "Took me seven days to nail defensive inscriptions."
"I'm trash at mind magic, though. Everyone's got their strengths!"
Ivy shone in illusions, but weapon enchanting? Not her jam.
"Maybe it's because you're so young," she teased, eyeing his boyish face with a smile.
"Could be," Aidan shrugged.
They hit the exit, sunlight blasting in.
"Want to come over to my place?" Ivy asked out of nowhere.
"Uh... rain check? Lab's getting built soon—gonna be slammed. Sorry," Aidan said, apologetic.
"No worries. Door's always open if you change your mind." She ruffled his hair gently.
Aidan: ...Feels weird being the kid here. But hey, the hugs? Worth it.
After waving bye to Ivy, Aidan stepped out—only for a guard to block his path.
"Hello, Mage Aidan. His Majesty Odin requests your presence."
Aidan paused, gears turning. "...Lab done?"
"I do not know." The guard's golden armor gleamed, face stone-serious.
"Probably... lead the way," Aidan nodded.
He followed back through the paths to the central hall—a massive open-air plaza with a curved platform refracting sunlight onto a folded throne.
Gold everywhere, throne backed by arc-shaped wings like a golden eagle ready to strike. A huge gate loomed behind, etched with intricate patterns, torches flickering ominously.
Odin wasn't in casuals anymore—full golden armor like Thor's, red cape billowing, scepter in hand. Majesty radiated off him like heat from a forge.
"All-Father Odin!" Aidan bowed slightly.
"Mage of Midgard, disciple of the Ancient One, Aidan Parker," Odin intoned, pausing. "I have an agreement with the Ancient One: you build a Space Bridge for Asgard, and we teach you magic, sending you to Nidavellir for study."
Aidan nodded, listening.
"But now, we forge our own pact. I offer an item from my treasury for your Space Bridge array technology. Do you accept?"
First big order—interstellar dealmaker vibes. "I accept," Aidan said.
Odin nodded, a guard stepping up with a leather scroll.
"This is the treasury list. Choose what appeals," Odin said as Aidan took it.
A hologram flickered to life above: first, a black staff. Black Wand: Owned by Horrigan, left after his failed assault on Asgard. Grants immense magical power.
Next, a blue box. Casket of Ancient Winters: Frost Giant relic. Releases ice that can freeze a planet instantly.
Then, an eye-like artifact. Warlock's Eye: Dispels illusions and darkness, predicts the future.
A stone tablet followed. Tablet of Life and Time: Bears equations for biological evolution. From lost Atlantis.
More scrolled by, but not the full vault.
Aidan mulled it over, heart racing—choices that could shift fates. Finally: "The Warlock's Eye."
Perfect for cosmic unknowns—pierce veils, fend off dark forces like Dormammu's dimension. Future sight? Bonus, but Holligan's flop showed it wasn't foolproof.
"All-Father, I choose the Warlock's Eye, but I've got another tech. Interested?" Aidan pressed, not done wheeling.
Odin raised an eyebrow. "What is its purpose?"
"A bomb that freezes time in an area," Aidan said, pulling a transparent cylinder from his space ring—blue energy swirling inside like trapped lightning.
"Freeze time?"
"Yeah—explosion warps space, twists gravity, slows time's flow." He shook it, the glow pulsing.
From Heat Wave's designs, but rare materials meant limited stock.
"I can demo it here if you want."
"Proceed," Odin said, intrigued.
Aidan lobbed it into the open space—bam! A muffled blast, twisting force field erupting like a storm, rippling the air.
He tossed the leather in— it slowed to a crawl mid-air, suspended in the distortion.
Thirty seconds later, the field faded; the leather dropped fast.
"Are you certain you're a mage?" Odin asked, doubtful.
"Absolutely," Aidan replied, puzzled.
"...Very well. What else do you offer?"
"That's it—just these two," Aidan shook his head.
"Then what do you seek? Not the Casket—it's beyond this," Odin warned.
"The Tablet of Life and Time." Huge for humans, maybe meh for gods.
Odin pondered, then: "Agreed."
"So, Space Bridge array and time bomb for the Warlock's Eye and Tablet. Confirm, and sign."
"Done!" Aidan infused his energy; white light flared, contract sealed.
...
The light zipped to Odin, leaving the leather with Aidan.
"Follow me," Odin rose, scepter thumping as he led to the vault.
The golden gate groaned open; guards saluted inside.
Dim, triangular space—stairs descending to a torch-lit aisle, water tanks flanking it. At the end: the blue Casket, chilling the air.
Nearby, a golden glove on a pedestal, gem slots empty.
Deeper in, under flickering light: the Warlock's Eye, black and pupil-like, staring back.
"Take it," Odin handed it over.
Aidan stashed it carefully, pulse quickening, then followed on.
Next: a blue-purple orb in bronze casing, like a cosmic eyeball.
"That's the Orb of Agamotto—detects universal threats and magic. I acquired it from your previous Sorcerer Supreme to safeguard the Nine Realms," Odin explained.
"Like the Warlock's Eye?" Aidan asked.
"No—it's for broad detection, short predictions... A gift to your order."
"Uh..." Aidan eyed him. Did you strong-arm it?
"A fair trade—dimensional pacts. Why else would so many lords lend Earth power freely?"
Made sense—beyond Vishanti, approvals flowed easy, except moody ones like Cyttorak.
"Heh..." Aidan grinned awkwardly.
They pressed on; soon, a tall stone tablet in a wall niche.
"The Tablet of Life and Time—equations for evolution to life's peak. A curio for us," Odin lifted it down.
"But for humans? Push your limits—who knows the end," he said as Aidan stored it.
Odin scanned his vault, reflective. "...Child, I see your hunger for power, yet you remain clear-headed—rare for one so young. When impulse strikes, temper it."
"No problem."
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