Although Queen Frigga still possessed her timeless charm, Ben wasn't quite that desperate. His request was not one of romance, but of knowledge. He wanted to learn the magic of Asgard and Vanaheim directly from its greatest living master.
Loki had always boasted of being the number one sorcerer in the Nine Realms, but all his spells had been taught to him by Frigga. The God of Mischief, however, had always possessed the mindset of a rogue, favoring spells of misdirection and cunning. His entire magical philosophy revolved around illusions and conjured blades—a narrow, if occasionally humorous, application of a vast and profound art.
Ben had already learned a great deal from the Ancient One. Now that he had created Genesis, his own dimension of Mana, it was inevitable that life would one day be born from it. And since Mana was naturally compatible with magic, collecting more methods of spellcasting could only benefit its future development.
"Magic?" Odin's stern expression softened, the volcanic power that had momentarily erupted within him receding. He stroked the beard under his nose and nodded, readily agreeing to Ben's request.
"I know you can also become an Asgardian, Aesir. The World Tree recognizes you. There is nothing wrong with entrusting our spells to you," Odin said. He saw nothing inappropriate in the request. In Odin's view, Ben was a citizen of the Nine Realms and intrinsically linked to Asgard. He had helped both his sons immeasurably; he was one of their own. Forget magic—if it were possible to directly bestow the power of the runes, Odin would have willingly taught him that as well. But that primal power, drawn from the World Tree itself, could only be obtained through self-sacrifice. There was no other way.
What a pity. Hela is mad. Otherwise, I could have simply left her to this boy, Odin thought with a pang of regret.
He felt that he had failed in the education of his two sons. Loki was qualified to be king but didn't want the throne, while Thor seemed to have fallen into a state of decadent acceptance on Earth. The foolish boy probably believed he would never regain the power of Thor and had become discouraged, slowly embracing the identity of a mortal. Ironically, this change in mentality had tempered him into a more qualified king, but his ambition seemed to have been completely smoothed away.
With no suitable successor, Odin's thoughts inevitably turned to his daughter. Unfortunately, Hela's psychological problems were far more severe than her brothers'. She was a product of the era when Odin conquered the universe, and she possessed Thor's thirst for war, magnified a hundredfold. If she were to succeed him, Asgard would immediately revert to a war-state, and Hela would spread that conflict to every corner of the universe.
If only Ben could control Hela, it would be a perfect solution. He was tempted to foist his daughter on the boy but quickly dismissed the thought. Ben had already helped him enough; there was no need to burden him further.
Ben, for his part, was overjoyed that Frigga and Odin had agreed. The magical traditions of Asgard and Kamar-Taj had different origins, the latter stemming from the Vishanti. By studying both, he could draw parallels, find new syntheses, and accelerate the development of his own unique brand of celestial magic.
As for the Dark Elves, he wasn't particularly concerned. Malekith and his forces were not especially strong; they were a pathetic force that couldn't even defeat Thor after acquiring the Aether. Their Kursed warriors, while said to possess strength several times that of an Asgardian, were not particularly intelligent and posed little threat. After Thanos, Ben found that most villains now seemed like small-fry. At this stage, there was no one worthy of his full attention.
He even thought that since the Dark Elf affair was so closely tied to the Nine Realms, it would be the perfect opportunity for Thor to prove himself. It would allow Thor to find his strength again, it would serve as repayment for Asgard's generosity, and infusing Thor with Mana would be a massive boon for Genesis. Thor's future potential was immense; in the long run, the investment would yield considerable returns.
Having made his decision, Ben remained in Asgard, studying magic under Frigga's tutelage.
Frigga and Odin were also intensely curious about the Mana Ben commanded. After learning that it was an energy Ben himself had created and could be shared, Odin attempted to merge his own Odinforce with it. The effect was astounding.
The fusion of the Odinforce and the Mana immediately began to alleviate the symptoms of Odin's aging, making his physical body feel decades younger. In an instant, the dying old man seemed to spring back to life. The enormous divine power, no longer constrained by a decaying vessel, washed through his body like a torrent. It surged through the branches of the World Tree, its revitalizing pulse felt in every corner of the Nine Realms.
"What is this?" Frigga asked in astonishment. Although Odin's divine power hadn't increased significantly, the rejuvenation of his body allowed him to fully wield the tremendous power he already possessed. At this moment, he seemed to have transformed back into the invincible God-King who had once conquered the universe.
"Mana is the energy of life," Ben explained. "The more of it a being has, the more vitality their body will possess."
Unlike divine power, which grew with age and could become so potent that it destroyed its vessel, Mana was intrinsically linked to vitality. It was a cycle akin to cultivation: to achieve immortality and gain greater strength, one had to cultivate Mana to break through to the next level, which in turn prolonged one's life. Otherwise, one would slowly waste away in the river of time, eventually returning everything to Genesis.
In Odin's case, by converting his immense Odinforce into Mana, he was essentially kickstarting this cycle, allowing him to recover his youth, perhaps even return to his prime. Coupled with the Asgardian trait of growing stronger with age, he might be able to achieve a state of true, balanced immortality. Of course, this was no loss for Ben. As Odin converted his power, a portion of it was tithed to Genesis. The longer the All-Father lived, the more "taxes" he would pay.
It was a win-win.
Feeling the renewed strength coursing through his veins, Odin's worries suddenly evaporated. He had feared his time was short with no one to succeed him. Now, he felt he could reign for another five thousand years without issue. What Thor? What Loki? You don't want the throne? Fine! Now I won't let you have it! Go be princes for another few millennia!
Odin now looked at Ben as if he were a priceless treasure. It was a pity Ben wasn't a pure Asgardian; he couldn't stay. But if he couldn't keep Ben, he wanted to keep his Mana.
"Will sharing this energy have irreversible effects on you?" Odin asked with fatherly concern.
"That won't happen," Ben replied, shaking his head. "The Ancient One and I created a dimension of Mana. It is the origin and destination of all Mana."
Odin understood immediately. He knew how dimensional lords operated. Ben sharing his power would not cause him any loss; in fact, it would increase the total amount of energy in Genesis. Everything has an end, and all life will eventually perish. When that time comes, the scattered Mana returns to its source, and Ben, as the master of the dimension, reaps the rewards.
Knowing this, Odin had no more worries. "You should know," he began, his voice taking on a new gravity, "that the power of all Asgardians comes from the World Tree." Ben nodded. "If the seeds of Mana are combined with the power of the World Tree, then all Asgardians will be integrated with it. Asgard will become even more powerful."
Ben was stunned. Rejuvenated, Odin had become so bold that he wanted to fundamentally transform the World Tree itself. But the All-Father was acting out of grim necessity. Ragnarok was inevitable, like the cycle of a tree—sprouting, flourishing, withering, and dying, over and over. But in Ben and his Mana, Odin saw a chance to end the cycle.
What if he injected Mana directly into the trunk of the World Tree? What if he changed its very nature?
"You're planning to change the World Tree from a species that withers to one that is evergreen," Ben realized. The old man was incredibly bold, but it might just work. Decline leads to destruction. The solution? Don't decline. Odin was planning to completely change the "soil" of the World Tree, irrigating it with Mana.
"Theoretically, it may be possible," Ben cautioned. "But the end of all things is not so easily defied. At best, this will only extend the time of this reincarnation."
"I understand," Odin said, his mind clear. "Even the great cosmic entities may not be truly eternal. It is enough to delay the arrival of Ragnarok."
As long as he was strong enough, the Twilight of the Gods could not catch him.
"Since you've decided," Ben said, "I certainly have no objection." Why would he object to someone helping plant trees for Genesis? He wished Odin would plant a forest.
In the universe, time becomes abstract. On Earth, however, the months passed with agonizing slowness. In just a few short months, the world had been turned upside down, changed so completely it felt as though centuries had passed.
Somewhere in the mountains of the East Coast, a disheveled Peter Parker carried the bloodied form of Steve Rogers, leading a small group of scarred superheroes through a dense wood. Only in a place like this could they hope to avoid Ultron's all-seeing eyes.
"Captain, are we there yet?" Peter's voice was a hoarse whisper. He hadn't had clean water in days, surviving on slightly poisonous wild fruits that didn't affect him but took their toll on the others. Not everyone had his endurance. Steve's right leg was broken, set in a crude splint Natasha had fashioned from branches. The super-soldier serum was trying to heal it, but if the bone grew crooked, it would have to be broken all over again.
"It should be soon," Steve said, trying to recall the address Ben had left him.
After several more grueling hours, they finally reached a stone gate, completely hidden by rocks and dense bushes.
"What is this?" Clint Barton's eyes lit up. On his back, Natasha stirred, groaning from a high fever.
Steve's eyes lit up as well. He breathed a sigh of immense relief.
"It's one of Nick Fury's old safe houses," he said. "The last one. He gave the key to Ben a long time ago. It's our only hope now."