Thor worked through the entire night, finally getting the Asgardian refugees settled. But just as he was about to catch some sleep, the horizon began to pale with the first light of dawn.
Seeing this, he immediately abandoned the idea of resting and hopped onto the plane Tony had arranged, bringing Loki along.
Thor was a man of action, and his style was as swift as a lightning strike. According to Tony's intel, Steve Rogers had been living as a fugitive in South America after escaping the States, drifting through various countries for the past ten years. The latest report from a month ago placed him in a small South American nation. Thor's destination was that country's capital.
After Thor left, Tony's heart remained in his throat. He worried that Steve might be too disillusioned to offer help. But if Steve did agree to help, they would inevitably have to face each other. Tony didn't know how he was supposed to look him in the eye.
Enemies? Old friends?
Fearing the situation might spiral out of control, Tony spent the entire day with no appetite, slumped on the sofa like a miserable shut-in, drinking and watching TV while ignoring both his wife and daughter.
Around dusk, the plane touched down on the base's landing strip. Tony walked to the window, his expression grim and guarded.
Thor stepped out... Loki followed... and then...
As the two emerged, the tail ramp slowly closed. The pilot prepared to head home for the night.
My God, Steve hadn't come!
Tony furrowed his brow, letting out a deep, heavy sigh. His emotions at that moment were a tangled mess—part disappointment, part annoyance, and a small, guilty part that was actually relieved.
The living room door opened, and Thor and Loki walked in. Tony sat on the sofa, pretending he hadn't seen anything, and turned around to ask, "Steve didn't come?"
"I tried to convince him," Thor said. "He refused point-blank to come here, but he said that if the war actually starts, he'll show up to help. Also..."
He pulled a black device from his pocket.
"Steve gave me this. He said we can use it to reach the Sorcerer Supreme."
With the device in hand, the mission was technically a success, and the awkward reunion with Steve had been avoided. Perhaps this was the best outcome after all.
The tension that had gripped Tony all day finally dissipated. "Well, don't just stand there. Call the Sorcerer Supreme."
Thor set the device on the table and reached for a bottle of booze. "I have no idea how to use your Earth gadgets. You do it."
Tony didn't argue. He picked up the device and began to inspect it. It was made of heavy metal, somewhat clunky, with a single-line old-fashioned screen and several physical buttons. From the materials, it looked decades old. Tony took only thirty seconds to figure out the controls and decisively hit the transmit button.
[Sending...]
A line of text appeared on the screen. A few seconds later, it showed a successful transmission, followed by a logo appearing on the display.
After downing a bottle of alcohol, Thor asked, "Did you get through?"
Tony didn't know whether to nod or shake his head. "The screen says it sent successfully, but there's no response."
"Let me try!"
Thor snatched the device from his hand and began shouting into it.
"Sorcerer Supreme! I am Thor, Son of Odin!"
"The Battle of New York ten years ago—you saved my life from Jason!"
The device remained silent.
"Jason has returned, and he's stronger than ever. We need your help."
"I am at the Stark base in northern New York. Please contact me when you receive this message."
Thor rambled on for a while, but the device showed no reaction whatsoever.
"Let me take another look."
Thor sighed in disappointment and handed it back. "What is the Sorcerer Supreme thinking? Is she refusing to help us... Hey! What are you doing!"
Thor's eyes went wide as he saw Tony pull out a toolkit and proceed to rip the device apart.
"I'm seeing if this piece of junk is broken."
In no time, Tony had expertly disassembled the device into a table full of tiny components. Then, he facepalmed. "I'm an idiot! This thing is for one-way communication only. It doesn't have a microphone; it doesn't support voice functions."
"What does that mean?" Thor looked completely lost.
"It means that the moment it showed 'Sent Successfully,' the recipient had already gotten the message. That whole heartfelt confession of yours was just for my benefit," Tony teased with a smirk.
Thor's expression turned awkward. "In that case, why isn't the Sorcerer Supreme coming to find us?"
"Maybe she lives far away? Needs some time?" Tony offered a weak explanation.
"No, that's not it," Thor said firmly. "The Sorcerer Supreme is a master of thousands of spells, including spatial magic. No matter where she wants to go, it should take only an instant."
Tony frowned. "That is strange. Is the pager actually broken? Or... is the Sorcerer Supreme dead?"
Thor shook his head. "The Sorcerer Supreme is the protector of Earth. If she were dead, dark forces would have invaded Earth long ago; they wouldn't have waited for Jason to show up."
"Then why the hell..." Tony turned back to study the heap of parts.
After a while, Tony seemed to discover something. "Does the Sorcerer Supreme ever leave Earth? Like, to go play hero on other planets?"
Thor thought for a moment and shook his head.
Tony held up a component. "This pager has been modified. These replacement parts extended the signal range to a cosmic level... and these parts aren't made on Earth."
Thor furrowed his brow. "What does that prove?"
Tony set the part down and analyzed the situation. "Nick Fury left this for Steve. He said that if a major threat ever arose, to activate the pager and someone incredibly powerful would come to help."
"We all assumed that person was the Sorcerer Supreme. But looking back, it seems we jumped to conclusions. The person we just contacted... I don't think it's the Sorcerer Supreme."
"That's just a guess," Thor said. "Do you have proof?"
Tony picked up the metal casing. "Look at the craftsmanship. It's crude, and it was manufactured at least several decades ago. Back then, Nick Fury hadn't even heard the title 'Sorcerer Supreme'."
The realization finally hit Thor. But then he asked, "If it's not the Sorcerer Supreme, then who is it?"
Tony tossed the casing aside. "Who knows. But starting tomorrow, you're going to have to find the Sorcerer Supreme the old-fashioned way—on Earth. And you'll have to do it without exposing your identity."
"Fine. I understand."
...
While Thor and Tony were busy scouring the globe for the Sorcerer Supreme, Jason's two children were still enjoying their peaceful, leisurely campus life.
News of the Goddess humiliating Flash Thompson had spread through the school, but no one made any strange connections. To the students, seeing a slender goddess beat a meathead like Flash wasn't necessarily suspicious. High-society kids were expected to learn things like golf, equestrianism, or mixed martial arts.
The only real change was that Angelina's prestige on campus reached a new peak.
Beautiful, poised, skilled in combat, and possessed of a heart that stood up for the weak—who wouldn't love such a perfect goddess?
Suddenly, Peter Parker, the poor student she had saved, became the envy of everyone. Many had witnessed the goddess initiating conversations with him and checking on his injuries, sparking a wave of jealousy among the male students. Some people even had the bright idea of seeking out Flash and letting him beat them up, hoping for a similar rescue.
Overall, Peter had been truly happy these past few days. Originally a shy, introverted boy who struggled with social cues, he now walked around with a faint smile on his face. After Angelina saved him, his life seemed to be taking a turn for the better.
But happiness often precedes tragedy.
One day, Peter didn't show up for school. When his classmates asked the teacher, they received shocking news.
Peter's uncle—the man who had raised him since childhood, the man who was his father in every way that mattered—had been shot and killed by a mugger the night before. Right in front of Peter.
Poor Peter had only just begun to enjoy life when disaster struck, and the pillar of his home was gone. The students couldn't help but comment on how tragic Peter's life was.
When Peter eventually returned to school after the funeral, he was a different person. For days, he wouldn't speak to anyone, his face a mask of hollow despair. He stopped paying attention in class, spending his time staring into space or sleeping.
In the school cafeteria, Angelina, Brian, and Gwen were eating together while Peter sat alone a short distance away.
Brian looked at his lonely silhouette. "That kid is having a rough time."
Gwen smiled. "Since when do you care about your classmates?"
Brian shook his head. "I don't. It just... makes me feel something."
He remembered when they had been forced to leave their home for Africa; those days hadn't been much better than what Peter was going through. Brian was likely feeling a rare moment of empathy.
"Actually, speaking of Peter, I remembered something," Gwen said suddenly.
"Last weekend, I was doing my internship at Oscorp, and I caught Peter using someone else's badge to sneak in with a tour group."
Brian looked curious. "What was he doing at Oscorp? Trying to score an internship with some professor?"
"No idea," Gwen said, shaking her head. "He broke off from the tour and was wandering around the facility. Once I spotted him, I confiscated the badge and kicked him out."
Brian lost interest in the topic and looked at Angelina. "Hey, 'Lady Luck'... that kid is miserable right now. Aren't you going to save him again?"
Angelina looked up, her gaze calm. "What does it have to do with me?"
"Come on, show some concern," Brian said. "I'm planning a party at the house this weekend. Go invite him."
"If you want him there, invite him yourself." Angelina finished her lunch and walked away.
"Fine, I will!"
Brian walked over and sat down across from Peter.
"Hey! Peter, right?"
Peter looked up at Brian, clearly overwhelmed by the attention. "Yes."
Brian cut straight to the chase. "Tomorrow's the weekend. I'm having a party at my place and inviting the class. You should come."
"I... well..." Peter looked tempted but hesitant.
Brian didn't waste words; he pulled out a business card with an address and set it on the table.
"Here's the address. Six o'clock tomorrow night. Look, I know losing family hurts like hell. But if you don't want to live in the shadows forever, you need to get out and socialize. It helps heal the wounds."
With that, he took Gwen's hand and left the cafeteria. Peter reached out and picked up the card.
...
The following evening.
The taxi Peter was in pulled up to the private road leading to the estate. He was feeling deeply conflicted, unsure if he should even be there. Luckily, after he'd gone home the previous night and told his Aunt May, she had encouraged him to go, which finally gave him the resolve to show up.
After clearing the security gate, Peter stepped inside and was met with a degree of luxury that left him speechless. Guided by the staff, he arrived at the guest wing where the party was being held.
The five-story annex was ablaze with dazzling lights. The pulsing music seemed to activate every dancing gene in the human body, and the tables were piled high with expensive food and drinks. The students were singing and dancing, enjoying themselves in a boisterous atmosphere.
But even as he sat there, Peter felt like he was in a completely different world from them. Within five minutes, he already wanted to leave.
"Hey, Peter! You made it!"
Brian and Gwen, dressed in formal wear, approached him with smiles.
"Hey, Brian. Thanks for inviting me."
"Don't mention it. Just make yourself at home." Brian handed him a glass of alcohol.
America was lax about weed but strict about alcohol; Peter and the other students weren't legally old enough to drink. But with Brian personally handing him the glass, Peter felt he couldn't refuse. Apparently, legal boundaries didn't apply to children of families like this.
"I can tell you don't party often," Brian said after they shared a drink.
"Yeah. I'm not big on loud noises."
"Haha, well, I'm sorry to put you through it. Tell you what—why don't you go over to the main house? It's quiet there," Brian suggested.
"But isn't that..."
Peter had heard from the staff that the main house was the private residence of the siblings, and outsiders were strictly forbidden without an invitation.
"It's fine. I'll just tell the guards."
Brian waved over a servant, whispered a few instructions, and then said, "Go on. Angelina is in the living room reading. I heard you like books too; maybe you two will actually have something to talk about."
Peter followed the servant, his mind buzzing. He felt like he was in a dream. Angelina is alone in the living room reading? That means I get to be alone with her!
It wasn't a dream, but it felt more surreal than any dream he'd ever had.
The servant gave him a few ground rules and then left. Peter took a deep breath, trying to steady his pounding heart. Once he'd calmed his nerves a bit, he cleared his throat and knocked on the door of the main house.
.
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You can read advance chapters and view R-18 images of the characters on pat reon page.
pat reon.com/GreenBlue17
200 power stones.
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