The mage obliged the café server's request for a photo—an expected reaction when walking the streets in armor. Fortunately, his darker complexion kept the police at bay; otherwise, the sword on his back would have certainly raised concerns. Even as he posed for the photo, Solomon's attention wasn't on the camera but on the two ravens outside.
Odin, the All-Father, would never casually throw his heir onto Earth without monitoring the situation. Sending his throne-bound ravens to observe was only logical.
What puzzled Solomon, however, was why the ravens were lingering near Stark Tower. Did the All-Father foresee the outcome of this event? Or perhaps he intended to glean information about the parallel universe travelers? Solomon revisited the sequence of events: According to the Sorcerer Supreme, Queen Frigga had been heartbroken by Loki's fall into Yggdrasil, prompting her to use magic to locate him. Though she sensed Loki's presence through the scepter, he refused to communicate. When Frigga reported this to Odin, the All-Father dismissed it as a grief-induced illusion—until Heimdall confirmed that Loki had appeared on Earth, wielding the scepter and stealing the Tesseract. Only then did Odin send Thor to resolve the matter.
The whole sequence seemed contrived. Frigga was a skilled sorceress, having once sat on Odin's throne, which claimed to see the past and future. Odin wouldn't doubt the accuracy of her predictions. Yet, he only acted when Heimdall observed Loki. It felt deliberate, as though he wanted events to unfold a certain way.
Solomon bit into a sausage, his suspicions growing. The true culprit had to be the Sorcerer Supreme. While Frigga's magic was limited to prophecy, the Sorcerer Supreme could directly observe future events. In matters concerning the Nine Realms, there was no way the Sorcerer Supreme hadn't communicated with Odin.
This meant the All-Father likely knew about the multiverse travelers, their arrival points, and even their intentions. Case closed. Solomon took another hearty bite of sausage, pleased with his deduction. The Sorcerer Supreme, a master of riddles, always left just enough for Solomon to unravel on his own.
After finishing his tea and snacks, Solomon left the café and settled on a bench near Stark Tower. This was the most likely spot for the multiverse travelers to appear, and Solomon was eager to see the device that allowed them to traverse parallel worlds. The technology intrigued him; dimensional travel aligned perfectly with his ultimate research goals. The opportunity to study it firsthand was too valuable to pass up.
He believed the Sorcerer Supreme would support his actions. She had already told him that his fate was no longer controlled by external forces. While some aspects of his future were set, the final outcome was his to choose. Solomon had chosen this day to take the next step in his ultimate quest: to freely traverse parallel universes.
"I've already helped you, Nick Fury," Solomon said into his phone. "This isn't my problem anymore."
"Did you know what would happen to Agent Coulson?" Fury's tone was agitated. "Romanoff mentioned your magic… If you could have—"
"GH325. Kree corpse. Enough. Stop pretending to grieve—you're terrible at it. Get to the point, or I'll hang up."
"Ugh, you little brat. How much do you know?" Fury grumbled before relenting. "Stark, Rogers, Thor, and my two best agents are heading your way. Yes, I know where you are—the cameras saw you. Stark thinks Loki might go to Stark Tower. You're already there. Why not check it out? If you see Erik Selvig—Jane Foster's mentor—stop him. Loki needs him to open the portal. You must stop him."
"No."
The mage squinted at the bright blue sky before disappearing from sight. Invisible, he left Fury relying on the phone signal to guess his location. "No," Solomon repeated. "I'm not a hero. Don't you get it?"
"But countless innocents will die if this continues! We don't even know if we can repel an alien army!"
"You can't. Your party can't. But it will be resolved."
"Your goal… is to open the portal, isn't it? Why?"
"So you ants, scurrying to pick up crumbs, will finally lift your heads and look up, Nick Fury." Solomon reclined on the bench, enjoying a rare moment of direct sunlight amid Manhattan's towering buildings. "Don't feign innocence. My journalist friends reported on the Asgardians' arrival, and you suppressed the news. Apart from high-ranking officials in the Five Powers, which country knows about the Asgardians? You want to keep the extraordinary hidden from ordinary lives, but the situation has changed. Alien existence can't be covered up anymore. Do you want humanity to die in ignorance, swaddled in a blanket of lies?"
"This has nothing to do with ordinary people."
"That's where you're wrong. Without a push, human society will destroy itself in endless internal strife. Then, nothing can be saved." Solomon stretched lazily, watching Tony Stark ascend to the building's rooftop on a trail of flames. "We're out of time, Nick Fury. Greater threats are closing in from the cosmos. This is just an appetizer. We need to be prepared."
"This is your plan?" Fury paused, his voice cold. "To use innocent blood as a wake-up call for the world?"
"Not just innocent blood. I've made my stance clear. Any obstacle to humanity's unity will die by my hand. That includes you, Nick Fury. If you refuse the future's call, your name will be on the list."
"I see." Fury's tone matched Solomon's icy resolve.
"Don't worry," the mage added. "I'll minimize casualties because these people don't deserve to die. The guilty ones will face me later."
"And how do you plan to handle this?"
"You'll see…"
A pillar of radiant blue energy shot into the sky, breaking through the clouds. Passersby stopped in awe, assuming it was another invention by the flamboyant Tony Stark. Their wonder turned to horror as a massive rift tore open 50,000 feet above Manhattan. On the other side, the void of space loomed, and countless Chitauri poured through, piloting small aircraft. At first, there were dozens, then hundreds. From the ground, they looked like a swarm of ants, falling like snowflakes. The attack came without warning, leaving no time to prepare.
Solomon hung up, rising from the bench. The silver pauldrons and chest plate of his armor began to shift. Magical metal extended upwards, forming a gorget that encased his throat. Steel plates wrapped around his chin and face, transforming into a helmet resembling a dragon's visage. The helmet's eye slits and maw concealed Solomon's long, dark curls. This was the armor of the Sorcerer Supreme, now worn by Solomon.
As he extended his hand, a Chitauri pilot hurtling toward the civilians crashed into a sudden, flickering orange-red magical shield. Dazed, the aliens staggered to their feet, only to lock eyes with Solomon, standing defiantly in the middle of the street.
"I let the beast loose, and it sure isn't well-behaved," Solomon muttered as he unsheathed his longsword. With a flourish, he spun the blade before gripping it with both hands, his knees bending slightly.
Inwardly, he told himself: I'm a knight now. Can't let them know I'm a mage.
"All right, your turn, vermin."
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