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- Outskirts of Ujjain, Central Provinces -
- August 10, 1936 -
The golden ripples of eldritch energy stabilized into a perfect circular fra, distorting reality as it settled. The battlefield still smoldered, the echoes of Aryan's battle with phisto lingering in the air. The portal's glow stretched across the cracked earth, casting long shadows as a figure stepped through.
She moved with quiet confidence, her re presence shifting the balance of energy around her. A shaved head, sharp yet calm eyes, and flowing robes carrying the faint scent of parchnt and ancient magic. She resembled the woman Aryan had seen in movies from his past life, but he knew at once—she was different.
Her gaze swept over the battlefield, taking in the destruction, before locking onto Aryan.
For a mont, neither spoke.
Then, she smiled. Not the smirk of soone testing his patience, nor the wary amusent of those who underestimated him—this was sothing else entirely.
"Hello, Mr. Rajvanshi," she greeted warmly, as if addressing an old friend. "I am the current Sorcerer Supre. But I assu you already know who I am—or at least, about Kamar-Taj?"
Aryan sighed. He had known this eting would happen eventually, though not like this. He had drawn too much power, bent too many fundantal forces—beings like her wouldn't ignore that.
"Yes," Aryan replied. "Ancient One, I know about Kamar-Taj and its duties."
She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Ah, A common misconception. The Ancient One is my master, not . In many universes, I bear that title, so I understand your confusion. But here, I am rely the Sorcerer Supre."
Aryan's mind clicked the pieces together. This world wasn't just a version of the Marvel universe he knew—it was a blend of movie and comic elents, making it unpredictable. He could no longer rely solely on past knowledge. He had to tread carefully, especially around the forces like ancient one or any more powerful individuals.
"As soon as I accepted the position of Sorcerer Supre a few years ago, you began appearing in my visions," she continued, her voice carrying an unusual warmth. "And yet, you remain an enigma—even to the most powerful divination tools."
Aryan wasn't surprised. He had once asked his system whether ti or fate-related powers could affect him, and the answer had reassured him: since his soul had spent an imasurable amount of ti in the void without being destroyed, he was beyond the influence of ti, fate, and similar forces—unless they operated on a multiversal scale. That knowledge had been a relief, knowing that so beings in the multiverse enjoyed ddling with such things.
As for the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj, he knew they possessed the Eye of Agamotto, the Ti Stone, which allowed them to see the future. If she couldn't perceive his future clearly, it ant the Ti Stone's power had no hold over him.
"That must be frustrating," he said, standing at ease but keeping his mind sharp.
"It is... enlightening," she admitted. "My master spoke of you. Void-touched. A rare thing indeed. Even he found you difficult to perceive. He told that when the ti was right, I should seek you out, and arrange a eting between you and him." She tilted her head slightly. "And now, here we are."
Aryan said nothing at first. The energy from his battle still pulsed faintly in the air, his reserves gradually refilling. He glanced around, making sure no imdiate threats remained before turning his full attention back to her.
"You ca because of phisto," he stated. "But he's already gone."
A flicker of understanding passed through her eyes. "Yes. I sensed the disturbance in reality and arrived as quickly as I could. But it seems he fled before my arrival. Likely mistaking for my master."
Aryan nodded. That made sense. The true Ancient One—the one from the comics—was soone even phisto wouldn't challenge lightly. If this woman had only recently inherited the title of Sorcerer Supre, phisto likely didn't yet grasp the extent of her power.
Her eyes swept over the battlefield once more before returning to him.
"You held your own against him," she observed.
Aryan shrugged. "He didn't expect to be a problem."
She studied him closely, the glow of the portal casting golden light across her features. "And yet, you are a problem—to many forces, I suspect."
Aryan didn't deny it.
She stepped closer, her voice lowering slightly. "You are walking a path few can follow. The more you shape the world, the more the world—and those beyond it—will take notice."
Aryan t her gaze. "Is that a warning?"
She smiled again, this ti with quiet amusent. "An observation. And an invitation."
He raised an eyebrow.
"There are things you need to know," she continued. "About magic, about reality, about the forces you are beginning to tap into. You are powerful, Aryan Rajvanshi, but power alone is not enough."
Aryan crossed his arms. "And if I refuse?"
She didn't seem offended. "Then you continue as you are, and our paths will still cross again. But knowledge can be the difference between wielding power and being consud by it."
He considered her words.
He had spent quite a long ti for his standards, mastering his abilities, bending them to his will, learning as he went. But even now, there were still gaps in his understanding—gaps that soone like her could help fill.
"Fine, where would I need to go?" he sighed and asked, as has decided to bite the bullet this ti to see what the Ancient One and this Soccerer Supre, had to say.
Her eyes glead. "Kamar-Taj."
Aryan exhaled slowly, casting one last glance at the ruined battlefield before returning his gaze to her.
"Alright," he said. "Let's go."
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The Sorcerer Supre smiled warmly as Aryan accepted her invitation. With a graceful motion, she traced a circular pattern in the air, golden sparks dancing at her fingertips. The portal shimred to life, revealing a glimpse of snow-capped mountains and ancient stone structures bathed in warm lantern light.
"Follow ," she said, stepping through.
Aryan took a last glance at the battlefield, then strode forward without hesitation.
The mont he crossed the threshold, he found himself in a familiar setting—the courtyard of Kamar-Taj. It looked just as he had seen in the movies, yet sothing about it felt more real, more alive. The air carried the scent of aged parchnt, burning incense, and the crisp chill of the mountain wind. Monks and sorcerers moved through the stone pathways, so engaged in quiet study, others practicing magic, golden runes flickering in the dim light.
As he walked alongside the Sorcerer Supre, his eyes fell on a girl seated on a ditation cushion near the courtyard's edge. She looked about fifteen or sixteen, perhaps his age, her posture composed and serene. Even in stillness, there was an undeniable presence about her—sothing that made the very air around her feel charged with energy.
She was breathtakingly beautiful, her features carrying the distinct grace of her Nepali heritage. Dark, wavy hair cascaded down her back, framing a face that could srize anyone who looked too long. Her skin was a flawless shade of dusk, her lips full, and her eyes—deep, intelligent, and stormy, like the skies before a monsoon.
But Aryan wasn't one to be swayed by beauty alone. He had Shakti, and to him, she was incomparable.
As if sensing the shift in energy, the girl's eyes opened, revealing irises that flickered subtly, as though reflecting the raw force of nature itself. She looked at the Sorcerer Supre and imdiately rose to her feet, offering a respectful bow.
"Master," she greeted, her voice soft yet composed.
The Sorcerer Supre nodded in acknowledgnt. "Nalini, we have a guest."
Nalini's gaze shifted to Aryan, assessing him with quiet curiosity. There was no arrogance in her expression, but neither was there awe—only a asured interest. She was used to reading people, it seed.
The Sorcerer Supre continued, "This is Aryan Rajvanshi. You will be seeing more of him around Kamar-Taj."
Nalini's expression remained neutral, but sothing in her eyes sharpened, as if she had already heard of him.
Aryan t her gaze, giving a small nod. "Nice to et you."
She inclined her head slightly. "And you."
The Sorcerer Supre turned back to Aryan. "Nalini is my direct disciple. She is gifted—not just in sorcery, but in ways beyond most here."
Nalini's posture remained relaxed, but Aryan could sense sothing beneath the surface—a power that wasn't just magic. It was... elental. The very ground beneath her seed more rooted, the air carried a faint hum of life, and the scent of distant rain mixed with the crisp mountain wind. It wasn't just the weather—she was connected to nature itself.
"Nature manipulation?" he guessed.
A flicker of surprise crossed Nalini's face before she schooled her features. "You're perceptive."
The Sorcerer Supre smiled. "She is an Oga-level mutant, Aryan. And a princess, though that part is a secret."
Aryan raised an eyebrow slightly. A Nepali princess? That explained her regal composure. But royalty or not, he could tell that Nalini wasn't the type to rely on titles—her presence alone spoke of her strength.
Nalini's lips twitched slightly, as if she had read his thoughts. "I hope you enjoy your ti here."
Aryan smirked. "We'll see."
The Sorcerer Supre clasped her hands together. "Co, Aryan. There's much to learn."
With one last glance at Nalini, Aryan followed her inside.
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