Reputation is a strange thing.
You can spend decades building it quietly, shaping it in the shadows, never seeking praise or attention… and yet the moment it finally reaches people's ears, the world seems to tremble around your name.
I kept my face serene as always — calm, unreadable, mystic — but internally?
I was absolutely thrilled.
It wasn't every day you got to be officially recognized as the Sorceress Supreme of an entire universe.
For decades, I had worked from behind curtains of illusion, secrecy, and silence. I built the Sanctums. I established Kamar‑Taj. I blocked invasions. I battled demons. I fought the Lords of Chaos themselves. All while pretending to be a quiet, wandering monk with an ageless face and a staff that was definitely not just a stick I enchanted out of boredom.
But now?The magical world finally caught up.
Whispers traveled like wildfire through covens, guilds, secret societies, cults, hidden villages, and dimensional markets.
"The Ancient One walks our world.""The Sorceress Supreme has awakened.""Do not anger her — she might be older than time itself."
Older than time? Please.People were so dramatic.
I wasn't that old.…Okay, mentally I was a few thousand years old now, thanks to several lifetimes' worth of memories from Loki, the Ancient One, Merlin, and Orochimaru.
But physically?
My current body was technically one year old.
One.
If that wasn't hilarious, I didn't know what was.
Of course, no one else knew that.Cloning, merging, ritual rebirth — all of that was my little secret. To everyone else, I appeared to be a mysteriously youthful, flawless seventeen‑year‑old sorceress who never aged and radiated power like a star about to go supernova.
People tried to guess my age, of course. They whispered about it constantly.
"She must be five centuries old.""No — a thousand.""Her eyes hold the weight of eras.""She's probably met Merlin."
I had to resist the urge to laugh every time I overheard it.
My face, however, remained perfectly neutral — that serene, calm Ancient One look that says: "I have seen universes die, child, but go on, tell me your problems."
It helped maintain the mystique.
And honestly?
I loved it.I absolutely loved it.
Not for the fame — that part I could take or leave — but because finally, after decades of work, my presence was acknowledged. My protection of this world wasn't just a secret battle in the shadows. People felt safer knowing I existed. Magical criminals flinched hearing my name. Demon cults added extra wards just in case I teleported into their living room.
And best of all?
Other sorcerers approached me with respect.
Not fear — not exactly — but the kind of deference you give someone who could casually fold you into an origami crane if she felt like it. And then politely unfold you again and offer tea.
I had become one of the most powerful magic users in this entire reality.Top five, easily.Probably top three, if I indulged my ego for a moment.
And I wasn't done growing.
The new body, despite its youthful appearance, handled power like it was born for it. It moved gracefully in combat tests. It channeled magic effortlessly. And yes — it was "younger" because certain rituals were more effective when performed before adulthood, something most sorcerers never dared attempt.
For me?
It was perfect.A body crafted for power, for control, for battle.
I had earned this reputation.
I had built it.
And now, people spoke my chosen name with awe and reverence:
"The Ancient One."
Of course, they didn't know my real name.They never would.
Some curses require only a name — and I was far too smart to risk that. In this world or any other, names have power. True names even more.
So I buried mine.Locked it away.Lost to history, forgotten by design.
All anyone would ever know was the mantle I chose to bear — the identity I carved into this world with every spell, every battle, every barrier, every victory.
I was the Ancient One.The Sorceress Supreme.Protector of this world.Immortal, ageless, enigmatic.
And I would walk this earth as such for centuries more.