"Watch carefully. This is the Hand of Tethros."
Ben's body blazed with rose-colored Mana as intricate geometric patterns materialized in the air around him. The magical array spun through its complex sequence, each rune flaring to life in precise order before the entire structure dissolved into pure potential. Four massive arms constructed entirely from solidified energy materialized behind him, each one radiating distinct magical signatures that made the air shimmer and crack.
The spectral limbs moved with fluid grace despite their enormous size, fingers flexing experimentally as if testing their newfound existence. Each arm pulsed with barely contained power, waiting for direction.
"The principle is straightforward," Ben explained, his voice taking on the patient cadence of an experienced instructor. "You use magical energy to construct the spell hands, then layer additional incantations on top of that foundation. The hands themselves serve as independent casting focuses, allowing simultaneous multi-spell execution."
He demonstrated without further preamble, all four energy arms moving in perfect synchronization yet performing completely different techniques.
"Wildvine's Entanglement."
The first hand gestured sharply, and ethereal blue-silver vines erupted from thin air. They twisted and coiled with predatory intelligence, wrapping around a training dummy with crushing force. The magical construct replicated Wildvine's signature ability perfectly, complete with the thorns and the slight vegetable scent of the Florauna species.
"Echo Echo's Amplified Roar."
The second hand formed a cone shape near its mouth region, mimicking the Sonorosian ability to generate and manipulate sound waves. When combined with the resonance principles that made Echo Echo's sonic discs so devastating, the result was a focused acoustic assault that could shatter eardrums at range. The training room's reinforced walls actually vibrated from the residual harmonics.
"Not only does this technique destroy biological hearing, but the frequency is calibrated to exploit vibranium's natural resonance threshold. Even supposedly indestructible materials will explode when subjected to this sonic signature," Ben added casually, as if discussing the weather rather than a spell capable of demolishing Wakanda's greatest treasure.
"Tessloth's Thunder."
The third hand crackled with electrical potential before unleashing a lance of pure lightning. The bolt carved through the air with a sound like tearing fabric, leaving ozone and scorched atmosphere in its wake.
"Pyronite's Flame."
The fourth hand ignited, becoming a torch that burned with Heatblast's characteristic intensity. Waves of heat rolled across the training area, making the temperature spike uncomfortably even at a distance.
All four attacks converged on the training dummy simultaneously, and the combined assault was nothing short of spectacular. The target didn't just break. It ceased to exist in any meaningful sense, reduced to scattered atoms and fading energy signatures.
Ben allowed the spell hands to dissipate, the four arms fading like morning mist as he turned to face his student. "These are just examples. The Hand of Tethros technique can channel any spell you've mastered. With enough alien DNA samples in the Omnitrix, I've created hundreds of combat applications."
His expression grew more serious. "The versatility is the technique's greatest strength. Different abilities can be combined to handle virtually any tactical situation. Some powers even synergize when used together, producing effects greater than the sum of their parts."
He paused, letting that sink in before delivering the warning. "The only limitation is the caster's control and natural talent. Maintaining multiple complex spells simultaneously requires extraordinary mental discipline. Most people simply can't manage it, even with access to Mana."
Ben had distributed Genesis Key throughout the Plumber organization, granting his agents the ability to channel his dimensional power. But raw access to energy didn't automatically translate to magical aptitude. For the vast majority, Mana served merely as a physical enhancement, making them stronger and more durable without granting any actual spellcasting ability.
Even among those who could manipulate the energy consciously, the intensity they could safely channel varied wildly. Mana was, at its core, life force given form. The stronger someone's vital essence, the more power they could withstand flowing through their spiritual channels without suffering cellular breakdown.
Charmcaster undoubtedly possessed extraordinary magical talent. Her potential practically radiated from her aura, visible to anyone with the proper senses to perceive such things.
"The Hand of Tethros!" She shouted the invocation with determination blazing in her eyes.
Her face immediately flushed crimson with effort, veins standing out on her forehead as she strained to force the spell into existence. Every muscle in her body went rigid, trembling with exertion. She looked less like a sorceress casting a spell and more like someone trying to lift a mountain through sheer willpower alone.
For several long seconds, she maintained that posture of absolute concentration, sweat beading on her brow.
Then, with a sound like a deflating balloon, the incomplete spell hand burst apart before it even finished forming.
"Pfft."
The magical construct didn't explode dramatically. It simply... gave up. Like a tired child releasing a held breath, the gathered energy dispersed with an almost apologetic whimper.
There wasn't even a proper bang. Just a sad little puff of dissipating magic.
"Still not working." Ben's analytical gaze tracked the flow of energy through Charmcaster's attempted spell matrix, identifying the failure points with Galvan precision. "Your magic circle construction is flawless, and the incantation's pronunciation is perfect. The problem is purely a matter of insufficient magical reserves. Your body simply doesn't have enough energy to fuel a technique of this complexity."
Charmcaster was like a top-of-the-line supercomputer with cutting-edge processors, massive RAM, and the most advanced graphics cards available. Every component was optimized and functioning perfectly. The only issue was that someone had forgotten to plug it in.
"This is all your fault!" The sorceress's glare could have melted steel as she rounded on Ben with accusation dripping from every syllable.
Her finger jabbed toward him like an angry sword. "If you hadn't severed my connection to Mana, there's no way I'd be struggling to cast even basic spells! I had power before you interfered!"
Despite her indignation, some part of her recognized the truth she didn't want to admit. Ben hadn't actually held anything back during their training sessions. He'd taught her techniques and theories with surprising openness, showing no sign of deliberately sabotaging her education.
The Ancient One had instructed her for several days, but that training had focused primarily on the most fundamental spells of the Sanctum Sanctorum. Basic dimensional binding, simple protective wards, elemental conjuration at novice levels. Important foundation work, certainly, but nothing particularly advanced.
The real treasures, the secret arts developed through research into Mana manipulation and the countless spells Odin had accumulated across millennia of conquest, those had been beyond the Ancient One's authority or inclination to share.
Ben, by contrast, had opened his entire arsenal without reservation.
"How else can I draw out the residual Phoenix Force hidden in your body?" Ben countered reasonably, unmoved by her anger. "The only way to expose dormant power is to completely exhaust your active reserves. When you've burned through every drop of accessible energy, when your body is running on absolute empty, that's when the Phoenix fragments will have no choice but to surface."
Hmph, I'll drain you completely dry one day! Charmcaster thought viciously, her imagination painting elaborate scenarios of revenge.
She pictured herself standing victorious, Ben collapsed at her feet in total exhaustion while she cackled and stole every technique he'd ever learned. Maybe she'd make him serve tea while she practiced his magic. Maybe she'd order him to wash her robes and organize her spellbooks. Maybe...
She firmly redirected her thoughts before they wandered into even more confusing territory.
Despite her internal complaints, she didn't stop training. This wasn't just about Ben's need to understand Phoenix energy. Charmcaster herself was desperate to become stronger, to accumulate enough power that no one could ever control or dismiss her again.
"The Hand of Tethros!" She tried again, voice hoarse from strain.
"Tessloth's Thunder!" Another attempt, pushing her limits.
The invisible spell hand flickered into existence for perhaps half a second longer this time, a ghostly shimmer in the air that almost took solid form. Lightning crackled around her fingertips, gathering into something that might have become a proper bolt given another moment.
Then it all collapsed like a house of cards, the magical structure unable to sustain itself against the weight of insufficient power.
The price of that marginal improvement was steep. Charmcaster's vision went black around the edges, her legs turned to rubber, and consciousness started slipping away like water through grasping fingers. The world tilted sideways as her body began its involuntary journey toward the floor.
Fortunately, Ben was standing close enough to react. His hand shot out with the reflexes of someone who'd spent years in combat, catching her before she could crack her skull on the unforgiving stone.
Heat flooded Charmcaster's cheeks as awareness returned. She found herself partially supported by Ben's arm, her exhausted body leaning against his shoulder in what could very easily be mistaken for an intimate embrace.
"Let go!" The demand came out higher-pitched than intended, embarrassment overriding her fatigue.
She pushed weakly against his chest, trying to establish some proper distance between them.
"Alright," Ben replied with infuriating simplicity.
Being the obliging sort who believed in respecting people's stated wishes, he did exactly as requested. His supporting arm withdrew, and he even gave her a small push to help her achieve the independence she'd demanded.
Charmcaster hit the ground hard, landing squarely on her tailbone with a impact that sent shockwaves of pain radiating up her spine.
"Ow!" The cry escaped before she could bite it back.
Tears of pain actually welled in her eyes as she clutched at her bruised posterior, every nerve ending in the affected area screaming protest. She wanted to yell at him, wanted to curse his deliberate obtuseness, wanted to blast him with the most destructive spell she could muster.
But exhaustion and embarrassment conspired to keep her silent. Instead, she could only torment him mentally, composing increasingly creative revenge scenarios while rubbing her aching backside.
That absolutely insufferable Ben Parker, she thought furiously, struggling to her feet with as much dignity as she could salvage. I'll get you back for this eventually. Just you wait!
She muttered the promise under her breath like a curse, preparing herself mentally for another round of training despite her body's protests.
But Ben interrupted before she could begin the invocation again.
"Let's take a break."
Charmcaster stared at him as if he'd just spoken an alien language. "Didn't you say we needed to completely exhaust my energy to trigger the Phoenix Force?" Her expression was equal parts confusion and suspicion. "The Phoenix could arrive at any moment, right? Taking breaks slows our progress. Don't blame me if we miss our window because you got soft!"
"If we're late, we're late." Ben crossed his arms, his posture radiating absolute confidence in his own capabilities.
"It's not like you're my only option here. Even if I can't analyze Phoenix energy in advance through your samples, I have alternative methods for dealing with it when it arrives."
He met her eyes directly, his gaze penetrating in a way that made her instinctively want to look away. "Charmcaster, you seem to be in a tremendous hurry."
The observation hung in the air between them, weighted with implications.
"I don't know what kind of pressure you're carrying, what expectations have been placed on your shoulders, or what you think you need to prove. But you need to understand something fundamental: you're not as important to my plans as you seem to believe."
The words could have been cruel, delivered by someone else. But Ben's tone carried only straightforward honesty, stating facts without malice.
"You're not indispensable to the fight against the Phoenix Force. I'm not placing all my hopes on your shoulders, and you shouldn't place all that pressure on yourself either. If you're tired, then rest. That's what sensible people do."
He turned slightly, gazing out the window at Wakanda's gleaming cityscape. "I'm the Lord of Genesis, the one who created that entire dimension. I'm also the primary guardian of this universe's stability. Fighting existential threats like the Phoenix Force isn't your burden to carry alone. It's mine. That's my responsibility, not yours."
Charmcaster sat frozen on the floor like a stunned duck, Ben's words echoing through her consciousness in endless loops.
Rest if you're tired.
How long had it been since anyone had said something like that to her?
The White Queen and her allies viewed Charmcaster as their prophesied messiah, and she'd enjoyed that reverence immensely at first. Being worshipped felt good, having people hang on her every word and treat her pronouncements as divine wisdom.
But that reverence came with chains. They pushed her constantly, training her relentlessly, never allowing a moment's respite in their desperate quest to restore mutantkind to its former glory.
She'd been burdened with an enormous mission from the moment Cable's team found her. A destiny she'd never asked for but had been expected to fulfill without question or complaint. There was never time to rest, never permission to be weak, never space to simply exist as herself rather than as a symbol.
Charmcaster didn't necessarily hate that feeling of importance. But she'd forgotten what genuine care felt like, what it meant to have someone worry about her wellbeing rather than her utility.
The pattern had started long before she arrived in this universe. Her uncle, Hex the necromancer, had only ever cared about her potential contribution to his schemes. He'd treated her as a tool to be used, a servant to be ordered, a resource to be exploited. She'd become so accustomed to that dynamic that she'd stopped expecting anything different.
But now, receiving unexpected concern from Ben Parker, hearing those simple words of care wrapped in casual delivery, something in her chest cracked open.
For just a moment, she wasn't Charmcaster, sorceress extraordinaire with grand ambitions of cosmic conquest. She was a little girl again, safe in her father's presence, with nothing to worry about and no responsibilities weighing on her shoulders. Those precious few years before tragedy struck and the world became cold.
Ben had no idea what emotional earthquake his words had triggered. He'd already mentally moved on to other concerns, preparing to leave the training area and check on Tony Stark's progress.
Several days had passed since the strike team departed for the cosmic fault line where the Cancerverse connected to their reality. Even accounting for the enormous distances involved, the Galvan engines should have brought them home by now. The continued silence was beginning to seem suspicious.
Charmcaster remained sitting on the floor, staring at Ben's back as he moved toward the exit. The illusion of her father's protective presence shimmered and fractured as he walked away, reality reasserting itself with cruel efficiency.
Panic suddenly seized her chest, squeezing like a vice.
"Wait!" The word burst out before she could stop it.
Ben paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "Is there something else, Charmcaster?"
She opened her mouth, then closed it again, words tangling on her tongue. She couldn't very well admit that she'd momentarily mistaken him for her dead father, that his simple kindness had cracked open wounds she'd thought long scarred over.
Her face heated with embarrassment as she floundered for any reasonable excuse to keep him from leaving.
"Charmcaster, Charmcaster, it's always Charmcaster!" She finally blurted out, the complaint emerging with more emotion than she'd intended. "That name is so irritating! I have my own actual name, you know!"
Her voice dropped slightly, confidence wavering as she forced out the next words. "From now on, just call me... call me..."
"Hope, right?" Ben finished before she could complete the sentence.