Vientiane World, Magic Training Chamber
"Hello, I'm Stephen Strange. It's a tremendous privilege to study magic under a wizard of Master Lockhart's caliber, even if only temporarily." Strange's voice carried the practiced charm he had once used with nervous patients—authoritative yet personable.
"Hello, I'm Wanda. I study under the Master's guidance." The young woman's reply was measured, her eyes evaluating the newcomer with quiet intensity.
"I'm Vera. Also a student of Master Lockhart." Another apprentice stepped forward, her posture reflecting the disciplined training that had shaped her.
As introductions continued around the circle, the future Doctor Strange demonstrated a social grace that seemed at odds with his reputation. Gone was the aloof arrogance of the brilliant neurosurgeon—in its place, a charismatic enthusiasm as he engaged each of Lockhart's students.
Lockhart observed from the periphery, noting with some amusement how his apprentices—all formidable in their own right—seemed to command Strange's undivided attention. He had chosen his students carefully, not only for their magical potential but also for their strength of character. That they happened to be exceptionally attractive individuals was merely coincidental, though it evidently hadn't escaped Strange's notice.
A sense of resignation settled over Lockhart as he watched Strange's uncharacteristically animated conversation with Vera and the others. Why has the Ancient One placed this particular burden on my shoulders? he wondered.
His previous encounters with Strange had provided sufficient insight into the man's character. There was nothing inherently wrong with being a genius, but Strange seemed determined to make every mistake that typically accompanied such brilliance—the aloofness, the overconfidence, the unwavering belief that he could overcome any obstacle through sheer intellect alone.
Lockhart found such personalities particularly challenging. Without the harsh lessons that only genuine failure could provide, such individuals rarely experienced meaningful growth, regardless of how meticulously they were instructed. Education through theory alone was insufficient; some wisdom could only be purchased through pain.
Despite the explicit warnings he and the Ancient One had provided regarding chaos magic, Lockhart harbored no illusions. If presented with a grimoire on chaos magic, Strange would undoubtedly pursue its secrets with reckless determination, heedless of any potential dangers—like a hound charging after a scent, regardless of what hazards lay in its path.
I much prefer students like Wanda, Lockhart thought, who actually listen to instruction. What he needed were willing collaborators, not brilliant liabilities.
Nevertheless, the Ancient One had entrusted Strange to his guidance, and Lockhart would not shirk this responsibility, however reluctantly accepted. One did not casually dismiss the Ancient One's requests.
"Ahem!" Lockhart cleared his throat deliberately.
Though the sound was subtle, the effect was immediate. Wanda, Vera, and the other students fell silent mid-conversation. Strange, momentarily caught in the social momentum, quickly followed suit upon noticing the sudden attentiveness around him.
"This is Stephen Strange, a sorcerer apprentice from Kamar-Taj," Lockhart announced formally. "He will be residing in our Vientiane World for one month, during which he will undergo specialized training."
Lockhart's gaze settled briefly on Strange. "Though still in the early stages of his magical development, his innate talent is exceptional. After less than a month of exposure to the mystical arts, he has already demonstrated proficiency with several basic Sling Ring techniques."
Lockhart paused, mentally formulating an appropriate training regimen. "Ian," he addressed his senior student, "Strange will be under your guidance for the first week. Focus on foundational magical theory and practical spellcasting fundamentals."
"For the second week, Remy will take over, emphasizing field application and combat scenarios. You excel in practical experience."
"The remaining two weeks will be determined based on his progress and aptitude," Lockhart concluded, efficiently outlining Strange's training structure for the month ahead.
"Understood, Master," Ian responded with quiet confidence. "I'll ensure he receives proper instruction."
Strange opened his mouth as if to object, but quickly reconsidered as Ian accepted the assignment. He had hoped that perhaps Vera or Wanda might be tasked with his training—the prospect of working closely with either was undeniably appealing. As the saying went, mixed-gender collaboration often made work seem less arduous, and he suspected magical studies might follow the same principle.
A beautiful instructor would certainly enhance my motivation, Strange thought with an inward sigh of disappointment. Yet his intelligence prevailed over his disappointment, and he recognized that openly challenging Lockhart's decision would be unwise, particularly as he would be under the wizard's authority for the coming month.
Instead, Strange approached Ian with outward enthusiasm, expressing his readiness to cooperate fully with the training program. Learning is learning, he consoled himself, and nothing prevents me from seeking additional guidance from the other apprentices during breaks.
The thought brought a spark of anticipation to Strange's expression—a reaction that men throughout history had experienced in the presence of beauty, and one that even the future Sorcerer Supreme was not immune to.
Lockhart easily discerned Strange's thoughts and suppressed a sigh of exasperation. With a casual gesture, shadows coalesced around him as he prepared to depart via Apparition.
Before vanishing, he sent a private mental communication to Ian: Feel free to intensify his training regime as appropriate. Genius requires pressure—particularly someone like Strange. The greater the challenge, the stronger his motivation will become.
As Lockhart disappeared, Ian regarded Strange with newfound calculation, mentally revising the training schedule he had initially considered.
Perhaps five times more intensive than standard, he mused. As Lockhart's first student, Ian had grown adept at interpreting his mentor's intentions.
A strict teacher produces an exceptional disciple. Even for a single week, Ian would embody that principle to its fullest.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, Triskelion Building
The corridors of the Triskelion teemed with activity as personnel in crisp suits and polished shoes moved with purpose through the facility. Their hurried strides and focused expressions reflected the organization's current state of heightened alert.
This intense operational tempo had persisted for over two weeks now—an aftereffect of the alien invasion that had ravaged New York. Even with magical intervention managing the most visible aftermath, the logistical challenges remained monumental in a metropolis of over ten million inhabitants.
Inevitably, certain details escaped containment. Digital fragments scattered across the internet—video footage, eyewitness accounts, discussions of individuals displaying extraordinary abilities—required constant monitoring and suppression.
While S.H.I.E.L.D. had successfully sanitized 99.999% of the evidence, the remaining fraction of a percent threatened to proliferate if left unchecked. To preserve American stability, agents worked around the clock, frantically scrubbing networks of compromising information and neutralizing lingering evidence within the underground communities.
Simultaneously, they issued calculated warnings to various organizations against investigating the invasion too thoroughly.
Of course, as the world's preeminent intelligence agency, S.H.I.E.L.D. had capitalized on the chaos to appropriate most resources related to extraterrestrial and supernatural phenomena, often confiscating materials from rival agencies and organizations.
All in service of protecting the world, Nick Fury justified. His conviction on this point remained unshakable.
Amidst this controlled chaos, Gellert Grindelwald stood in the main atrium, his presence concealed by powerful charms as he observed the headquarters of the organization that claimed guardianship over global security.
After several minutes of surveillance yielded nothing of particular interest, Grindelwald proceeded toward the upper levels. His target was clear: Nicholas Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Support me at [email protected]/goldengaruda and check out more chapter of this or more early access chapter of my other fanfic translation.
New Fanfic
Marvel x Star Wars: Avengers in the Clone Wars
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~