Although Queen Frigga was still graceful and beautiful, Bant wasn't nearly hungry enough to go there.
What he actually wanted was to learn the magic of Asgard and Vanaheim from Frigga.
Loki had always styled himself the greatest sorcerer in the Nine Realms, but all his magic had been taught to him by Frigga. And Loki always had the heart of an assassin — he never truly demonstrated the full potential of sorcery.
That boy's entire understanding of magic boiled down to illusions plus a dagger. One could only call it somewhat amusing.
Bant had also learned some sorcery from the Ancient One. Now that he had established the Celestial Energy Dimension, celestial beings would inevitably be born there.
And celestial energy was, by its very nature, an energy that harmonized perfectly with magic. Gathering more methods of spellcasting could only be beneficial.
"Magic, is it?" Odin's expression softened. The whiskers beneath his nose relaxed, and he nodded, acknowledging Bant's request.
"I know you can take the form of an Asgardian or a Vanir. The World Tree recognizes you as well. There is nothing improper about entrusting magic to you," Odin said.
He saw no issue with it. In Odin's eyes, Bant was a citizen of the Nine Realms, deeply intertwined with Asgard's affairs, and had helped his two sons immensely. He was unquestionably one of their own. Never mind a bit of magic — if the power of the Runes could simply be bestowed, Odin would have gladly taught him that as well.
That power was something Odin had obtained from the World Tree itself — a force that reached all the way to the source. If one could fully comprehend it, they might perhaps attain multiversal-level energy.
But the power of the Runes could only be acquired by making a personal sacrifice to the World Tree. There was no other way.
'A pity Hela is so deranged. Otherwise, throwing her at this young man wouldn't be so bad.'
Odin felt rather regretful.
He reflected that both of his sons now seemed like educational failures. Loki was now qualified to rule but no longer wanted the throne, while Thor seemed to have sunk into despondency.
That foolish child probably believed he would never recover the power of the Thunder God in this lifetime. So he had truly become disheartened, slowly accepting the identity of an ordinary mortal living on Earth.
In truth, this shift in Thor's mentality was gradually transforming him into a worthy king. But his edges seemed to have been worn completely smooth — he had begun to settle for his current state.
With no worthy successor in sight, Odin certainly had not forgotten he still had a daughter.
Unfortunately, Hela's psychological issues were far more severe than either of her brothers'. She had grown up in the era when Odin waged war across the cosmos. The bellicose flaw that Thor had once possessed existed in Hela as well — and it was far worse.
If she were to inherit the throne, Asgard would undoubtedly plunge straight back into war mode. Hela would spread the flames of war to every corner of the universe.
If Bant could rein Hela in, that would be the best possible news for Odin.
He was even tempted to toss Hela at Bant, but on second thought, Bant had already helped him more than enough. There was no need to entrap him like that.
When Bant heard that Frigga and Odin had agreed to his request, he was delighted.
Asgardian magic and the sorcery of the Sorcerer Supreme did not share the same source — the latter came from the Vishanti. Studying the two together would allow one to draw parallels and accelerate the development of celestial magic.
As for Malekith the Dark Elf, Bant wasn't particularly concerned.
Malekith wasn't all that powerful — just a waste who couldn't even beat Thor after obtaining the Aether.
The real threat was the Cursed Warrior under his command, said to possess strength several times that of Thor. But its brain didn't seem too sharp, so it hardly counted as a threat either. In the film, it had died at the hands of its own spatial bomb.
Nothing worth worrying about.
With Thanos dead, Bant now looked upon everyone else as mere heads waiting to be collected.
At this stage, at least, there wasn't a single villain worth his extra attention.
Bant was even thinking that since the Dark Elf matter was closely tied to the Nine Realms, he might as well nurture Thor to resolve the problem when the time came.
Firstly, Thor had the necessary strength to begin with. Secondly, it would serve as a way to repay Asgard's goodwill — Odin and Frigga had treated him genuinely well and been exceedingly generous.
Thirdly, transmitting celestial energy to Thor and helping him awaken would be a tremendous boon to Regidomon. Thor's future achievements were far from modest — at the very least, he would reach the level of an All-Father. Like a steady stream feeding a great river, this would bring Regidomon considerable returns over time.
Having made his decision, Bant settled contentedly into Asgard, following Frigga to study magic.
Frigga and Odin were also intensely curious about the celestial energy Bant wielded. Upon learning that this was an energy Bant had created himself and could share with others, Odin even attempted to fuse his Odinforce with celestial energy. The result was astonishing.
When celestial energy merged with the Odinforce, it actually alleviated the symptoms of Odin's aging, making even his physical body appear considerably more robust.
In an instant, this old man teetering on the brink of death seemed to experience a sudden rejuvenation. His vast divine power rushed through his body like a torrential flood, coursing along the branches of the World Tree to every corner of the Nine Realms.
"This is...?" Frigga was astonished.
Although Odin's divine power hadn't increased by much due to the celestial energy, the strengthening of his body allowed him to wield that immense power freely and fully.
In this moment, he seemed to have become once again the All-Father Odin who had waged war across the cosmos, invincible beneath the stars!
"Celestial energy is life energy," Bant explained. "The more celestial energy a being possesses, the more vitality their body holds."
Unlike divine power, which grew stronger with age — sometimes to the point that the body itself could no longer contain it — celestial energy's strength was intrinsically linked to life force.
One with powerful celestial energy was certain to possess an extraordinarily long life. Yet, as time slowly passed, celestial energy would diminish with the body's aging.
It was much like the path of immortal cultivation: if you wanted longevity and greater power, you had to diligently cultivate celestial energy, then break through to the next realm, expanding your celestial energy and extending your lifespan. Fail to do so, and you would slowly wear away under time's erosion, eventually returning everything to Regidomon.
In Odin's case, having just come into contact with celestial energy, he was now converting that vast Odinforce into celestial energy. This was bound to restore him to a certain degree of youth — perhaps even the state of his prime.
Combined with the Asgardian trait of growing stronger with age, he might truly be able to exploit a loophole in the celestial energy system and reach an equilibrium point of immortality.
Of course, even if that happened, Bant wouldn't lose out.
Because as the Odinforce was being converted into celestial energy, a portion of it was already being funneled to Regidomon. The longer he lived, the more taxes he paid — a tremendously good thing.
Naturally, it was a good thing for Odin too.
This was essentially him receiving a second life, one of long and leisurely eons.
Feeling the strength surging through his body, Odin found all his worries swept away in an instant.
Previously, his greatest anguish had been his limited remaining time and the lack of a worthy successor. But now? He felt he could remain All-Father for at least another five thousand years — no problem at all!
Thor? Loki? Off to the side with you both!
Don't want to inherit the throne? Well, this old man isn't giving it up now!
You two can be princes for another few thousand, even tens of thousands of years!
Odin now looked at Bant as though gazing upon a treasure.
Such a fine young man. Without question, Bant's future would reach heights beyond prediction.
A pity he wasn't purely Asgardian, nor could he remain in Asgard. Such a shame. If only Hela had some sense — then perhaps she might have given Asgard an unprecedented All-Father.
But even if he couldn't keep Bant, Odin wanted to keep the celestial energy.
"Sharing celestial energy like this — will it have any irreversible effects on you?" Odin asked with concern.
Bant shook his head. "It won't. The Sorcerer Supreme and I created a Celestial Energy Dimension together. That is the origin and terminus of all celestial energy."
Hearing this, Odin understood.
He was naturally aware of how those dimensional demon gods operated.
By sharing celestial energy, Bant not only incurred no loss but actually increased the total amount of celestial energy within the Regidomon Dimension.
After all, all things must end. Every life eventually perishes, and when that time comes, the celestial energy dispersed abroad returns to his dimension bearing fruit. Bant would then become the lord of that dimension.
Knowing this, Odin had no further reservations.
He spoke: "You should know that the divine power of all Asgardians originates from the World Tree."
Bant nodded. The World Tree was like the pulse of the Nine Realms, and divine power was its blood. Anyone who possessed divine power and was recognized by the World Tree was a true Asgardian.
Take Loki, for instance. Though he carried the bloodline of the Frost Giants, he too possessed divine power, and no one held his origins against him too harshly.
Many of Asgard's inhabitants had originally come from other worlds — even Frigga herself was a Vanir from Vanaheim.
"If the seed of celestial energy were fused with the power of the World Tree, then all Asgardians would merge with celestial energy," Odin said.
"Asgard would also grow stronger."
Even Bant hadn't expected that once Odin regained his youth, he would be this bold — ready to transform the World Tree on a whim, without any fear that it might wither and bring destruction to all Nine Realms.
In truth, Odin had no choice.
Ragnarok was inevitable. It was like the cycle of trees — from fresh shoots to lush foliage, then to withering and decay, again and again without end.
Asgard would eventually face Ragnarok. This was not the first time, nor would it be the last.
But in celestial energy, in Bant, Odin saw the possibility of ending Ragnarok forever.
What if celestial energy were injected into the trunk of the World Tree?
By fundamentally altering the World Tree, completely severing its life pattern of cyclical death and rebirth, perhaps everything could be changed.
"So you're planning to turn the World Tree from a deciduous broadleaf species into an evergreen conifer!" Bant grasped Odin's idea. The old man truly dared to dream, but upon careful consideration, it might not be impossible.
What comes after decline? Inevitable destruction. So what's the solution?
Simple — just don't decline, then.
Odin intended to change the World Tree's soil entirely, planning to nourish it with celestial energy from now on. He clearly believed that Bant and celestial energy would reach heights beyond his imagination.
Bant offered a word of caution: "In theory, it might be possible, but I'm afraid that 'all things must end' is not so easily defied. Celestial energy can at most extend this cycle's duration."
"I understand that," Odin said, taking a broader view. "Even the Five Cosmic Entities like Eternity may not be truly eternal, much less the rest of us. Being able to delay Ragnarok's arrival is enough."
Ragnarok had no fixed definition.
It represented the fated destruction of Asgard.
It was an inevitable outcome.
The only differences lay in when it arrived and how it unfolded.
If Odin had truly grown too old and feeble, without Bant's assistance, perhaps this very Dark Elf crisis would have been Ragnarok.
So, when it came down to it, what was needed was powerful strength as a foundation.
As the saying goes: as long as I'm strong enough, Ragnarok can never catch up to me!
As for the death of the universe, or even the death of the multiverse, that was beyond Odin's concern. When that time came, everyone would die together, so what did it matter if it was dusk or eternal night?
"Since you've made your decision, I naturally have no objections," Bant said.
Someone wanted to plant trees for his Regidomon — what objection could he possibly have?
He couldn't wish for Odin to plant more!
But this matter couldn't be rushed.
The branches and roots of the World Tree connected all Nine Dimensions. Its colossal body and inexhaustible energy could not be transformed so easily.
Odin set to work immediately.
And Bant continued his study of magic.
In the cosmos, time itself seemed to become abstract, difficult to measure.
Meanwhile, on Earth, several months had passed with painful slowness.
They were painful because, in just these few short months, the world had been turned completely upside down.
Everything had been utterly transformed.
Compared to how things had been before, it seemed not like months had passed but rather several centuries. Only that could explain such unimaginable changes.
Within a mountain range somewhere on the East Coast...
A disheveled Peter carried Steve, who was covered in blood, on his back. He led a band of wounded superheroes through the dense forest.
Only in a place like this could they evade Ultron's surveillance and remain hidden.
"Captain, are we there yet?"
Peter's voice was hoarse. He hadn't had water in days, surviving only by picking wild fruits along the way to moisten his throat. Those fruits were mildly toxic, but they didn't affect him much.
The others in the group weren't so fortunate.
Not everyone had his endurance, let alone the fact that Steve's right leg was fractured. Natasha had crudely splinted it with pieces of wood.
Steve's self-healing ability was strong, but without proper treatment, that powerful regeneration could actually cause trouble. If the bone healed crookedly, it would have to be broken again.
"It should be soon," Steve said, straining to recall the location Bant had left him long ago.
Several more hours passed before they reached a stone door concealed by boulders and dense underbrush.
"This is...?" Barton's eyes lit up, and the sound of his voice caused Natasha — unconscious and burning with fever on his back — to stir faintly.
Steve's eyes brightened as well. He let out a breath of relief and said:
"It's Nick Fury's safe house. The last one. He gave the key to Bant back then. It's a lifesaver now."
/-\
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