GreekGreenGlass
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🕑 Added 2025-01-17 16:04:40 +0000 UTCLeon was undoubtedly one of them.
His talent and wisdom had been recognized by Odin. She had even stood at the same level as Odin, which was why she had refrained from further evaluation or praise. To assess or overpraise someone like her was, in a sense, a form of disrespect.
Below, the battle raged on.
In the excited and passionate eyes of the Asgardians, the head-to-head collision revealed an unexpected outcome—Sumarokov gaining the upper hand.
Boom!
Sumarokov stood firm against Thor's ferocious assault, enduring the dual agony of body and mind. Amid the blood mist that filled the air, he unleashed his strongest punch.
The blow landed squarely on Thor's face. His nose collapsed, blood spurting from his mouth, as his forehead and cheeks became smeared with crimson. Even as his tenacious will dimmed momentarily, his body, uncontrollable, staggered back two steps.
The cheers and shouts of the crowd abruptly fell silent.
Thor... lost?
For all the Asgardians' awareness of the warrior's strength, Thor was still considered invincible—a reputation forged through countless battles over millennia.
In the tense quiet, Thor shook his head, sending blood scattering. His eyes locked onto Sumarokov, who made no move to pursue, instead panting slightly as he stared at the thunder god.
"What a pleasure!"
Thor's voice carried a strange satisfaction. Unlike the astonished crowd, he knew all too well the strength of warriors like Sumarokov. Losing slightly in a clash like this was not a cause for anger but a source of excitement.
For a true warrior, a strong opponent was a rare gift.
In thousands of years of battle, few had ever pushed Thor to this extent.
He wiped the blood from his face to clear his vision. "I lost this round."
Thor admitted defeat without hesitation.
Sumarokov's expression shifted slightly, but before he could respond, Thor raised his right hand high. Thunder roared across the sky as Mjölnir descended, its approach heralded by a crackling storm.
The heavy sound echoed.
"Now, the warm-up is over," Thor declared. "The battle officially begins."
On the snow-capped peaks of Kamar-Taj, the wind howled as Leon and the Ancient One stood together, gazing at the breathtaking view of the sea of clouds below.
They had shared a brief conversation earlier, discussing the day-to-day happenings at Kamar-Taj and Wanda's remarkable progress.
Wanda's growth had been nothing short of impressive. Her unique teaching methods, in particular, had caught the Ancient One's attention.
In a short time, Wanda had earned the respect of every mage at Kamar-Taj, from the oldest practitioners to the youngest apprentices.
For the senior mages, respect was earned through a display of admirable qualities. Wanda's respectful demeanor, unyielding work ethic, and thirst for magical knowledge—combined with her status as the Ancient One's chosen successor—had won them over completely.
The younger mages were even easier to sway. Wanda's hands-on combat training and approachable teaching style quickly shattered any arrogance among her pupils. After being soundly defeated in one-on-one sessions, even the most skeptical among them were won over.
She balanced authority and approachability masterfully. With both discipline and encouragement, she swiftly solidified her role as a leader.
Even Master Mordo, known for his rigid and extreme views, was swayed.
Mordo valued strength above all else. Wanda, understanding this, often emphasized their shared goal of defeating Dormammu and purging the darkness. Her conviction left Mordo inspired and loyal, declaring her a worthy successor to rival the Ancient One.
These developments delighted the Ancient One. Wanda's deft manipulation of both overt leadership and subtle influence gave her mentor the confidence to consider retirement—possibly sooner than planned.
Leon, however, noticed the mark of dark power on the Ancient One's forehead. It didn't faze him.
For anyone else, absorbing dark energy would mean corruption of the mind and soul, leading them to become Dormammu's pawn. But for the Ancient One, her soul's strength was unshakable.
The mages of Kamar-Taj, after all, focused on the strength of the soul above all else. Their physical forms might be fragile, but their spirits were steadfast and resilient. The Ancient One, possessing power at a cosmic level, could even discard her mortal body and traverse the multiverse in her astral form, unencumbered by physical decay.
Noticing Leon's gaze, the Ancient One looked upward, as if seeing beyond the skies to a distant palace.
"The legend of one era ends," she mused, "and a new one begins, shining with its own brilliance."
Her voice carried a quiet wisdom, as if she could see the river of time stretching endlessly before her.
"I look forward to seeing how far you'll go, Leon."
Leon, however, met her words with a subtle smirk. He doubted the Ancient One was as sentimental as she seemed to imply.
