"Ah!"
A voice suddenly pierced Stephen Strange's concentration. Though gentle in tone, its unexpected intrusion caused his hands to tremble slightly as he maintained the delicate spell.
Bzzt!
The nascent portal collapsed, magical energy dissipating into motes of light that faded into nothingness. Strange felt a flash of irritation surge through him—he had been so close to success—but quickly suppressed it upon hearing mention of the Ancient One. Years of surgical discipline allowed him to master his expression, though a hint of annoyance remained in his eyes as he turned to face the speaker.
His first impression was striking. The man before him possessed a certain refined handsomeness that seemed almost cultivated, as though designed to put others at ease. But it was his scholarly demeanor that truly caught Strange's attention—an aura of erudition that suggested countless hours spent in contemplative study.
Strange's irritation melted away unbidden, like frost under morning sun. In its place rose an inexplicable sense of warmth, even familiarity, that he couldn't quite explain.
"Portal magic requires exceptional control over one's magical energies," the man offered conversationally. "There's a volume in the library—'My Ten Years with Dora.' Despite its somewhat frivolous title, it contains invaluable insights regarding spatial manipulation techniques. You might find it enlightening when you have a moment."
Strange nodded reflexively, appreciating the specific recommendation. "Thank you. I'll seek it out later," he replied with genuine interest.
As a surgeon, Strange had always respected expertise, regardless of the field. His mind quickly catalogued what he'd overheard about Master Lockhart in recent days. The recent incursion of malevolent entities—what some were calling the "invasion of dark spirits"—remained fresh in everyone's minds, and Lockhart had apparently distinguished himself during the crisis.
Powerful. Mysterious. Wealthy. Scholar.
The labels assembled themselves in Strange's mental profile. He recalled discussions of a "Vientiane World" that Lockhart had supposedly opened—a magical realm where even the Masters of Kamar-Taj had ventured to acquire rare items. A twinge of envy flickered through Strange's thoughts—not merely for the magical achievement, but for the freedom such affluence might provide.
These impressions coalesced in an instant, and Strange composed himself before asking directly: "Master Lockhart, may I ask why the Ancient One has summoned me?"
Lockhart shook his head slightly. "I'm afraid I don't know the specifics. You'll discover her purpose when you meet with her."
With a graceful gesture of invitation, Lockhart turned and walked from the courtyard. Strange followed closely, maintaining a respectful distance.
Their journey proceeded in silence. Though questions burned in Strange's mind, his pride—the same pride that had made him a renowned neurosurgeon—prevented him from adopting the posture of a supplicant. He had always preferred self-reliance, solving problems through his own research rather than seeking guidance.
Such was the nature of genius—a perpetual desire for self-sufficiency that could be both strength and weakness.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Their footsteps echoed softly through the corridors of Kamar-Taj as they departed the training grounds. Behind them, the other apprentices returned to their practice, though many cast lingering glances at Strange's retreating form. The prodigy had been summoned by the Ancient One herself—what could it mean?
Time seemed to compress during their walk, and before long, Strange found himself entering the familiar tea room where he had first encountered the Ancient One. This was where everything had changed for him—where desperation had given way to possibility, where he had found new purpose after losing everything that once defined him.
"Ancient One, I offer my respects," Lockhart said, executing a formal bow with practiced grace.
Strange hesitated momentarily, then quickly mimicked the gesture. He hadn't yet fully acclimated to the hierarchical deference of this mystical world—so different from the meritocratic arrogance of his medical career, where even the most senior surgeons were challenged if evidence warranted it.
"Lockhart, Strange—you've arrived." The Ancient One turned from her contemplation at the window, offering a slight gesture of welcome. "Please, be seated and share some tea."
She moved to the low table in the center of the room, folding herself into a cross-legged position with fluid ease. Strange noticed that the table had already been set with a steaming pot and cups, as though she had anticipated the exact moment of their arrival.
The tea she poured radiated a subtle luminescence, its aromatic essence filling the room with notes of earth and flower and something indefinable—perhaps a hint of magic itself.
"Ancient One," Lockhart began after sipping appreciatively from his cup, "how may I be of service?"
Strange observed attentively, curious about what role he might play in this exchange. As a recent initiate to the mystical arts, what could possibly be required of him?
The Ancient One's smile carried the serenity of endless patience. "Lockhart, what insights have you gleaned from the tome I provided you previously?"
Strange noticed a flicker of understanding cross Lockhart's expression—clearly, this question carried significance beyond its simple phrasing.
"It has been most illuminating," Lockhart replied thoughtfully, seeming to organize his thoughts before continuing. "What struck me most profoundly was the reality-distortion properties of chaos magic."
Strange's attention sharpened at the mention of 'chaos magic'—a term he hadn't encountered in his studies thus far.
"More specifically," Lockhart elaborated, "its capacity to manipulate fundamental laws of reality. It's comparable to a programmer rewriting a program's source code—overwriting existing information with new parameters. However, this overwriting is temporary without continuous application of will and power. Reality inevitably reasserts its original state without sustained effort."
Strange couldn't conceal his fascination. The idea of distorting fundamental laws of reality sounded beyond extraordinary—it approached the divine.
"Have you discerned any other significant aspects?" the Ancient One prompted, her expression revealing subtle approval.
"The inherent unpredictability of chaos magic is equally concerning," Lockhart continued. "Many practitioners reject it as inherently malevolent due to its resistance to control."
He gestured with his hands to emphasize the distinction. "Kamar-Taj traditionally focuses on stable magical systems—structured spells, disciplined energy manipulation, and predictable outcomes. Chaos magic functions differently. By distorting underlying reality, it inevitably triggers universal resistance. This demands exceptional magical control from its wielders—unparalleled will, mental fortitude, and concentration."
Lockhart's voice grew more somber. "Without these qualities, chaos magic can spiral beyond containment, potentially triggering catastrophic consequences. This fundamental danger is precisely why such practices are restricted."
A note of reverence entered his tone. "Chaos magic represents the domain of extraordinary talents—of true magical prodigies. For conventional practitioners, attempting such arts invites self-destruction."
Strange felt a spark of excitement ignite within him. As someone who had once performed surgeries deemed impossible by his peers, he was instinctively drawn to challenges that others avoided. The notion of a magical discipline restricted to only the most gifted practitioners appealed to his competitive nature. His mind was already cataloguing where in the library he might search for references to this intriguing field.
The Ancient One nodded placidly, though her eyes revealed keen assessment. "Have you discovered anything else of note?"
Lockhart seemed to recognize the weight behind this seemingly casual inquiry. Strange observed a subtle shift in his demeanor—a momentary calculation—as Lockhart glanced briefly in his direction.
After what appeared to be internal deliberation, Lockhart leaned forward slightly.
"Ancient One, I've recently explored a concept that might interest you," he began, his tone measured but tinged with excitement. "If chaos magic can distort fundamental laws..."
He paused, seeming to reconsider his phrasing. "Perhaps 'creation' is more accurate than 'distortion'—what if we employed chaos magic to generate an entirely new metaphysical framework? A realm where magical energy could exist in perpetual, self-sustaining cycles?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~