Though it was Malrick's first time meeting Odin face-to-face, his demeanor was anything but respectful.
In fact, he looked like he was there to demand answers.
The reason was simple.
Being observed by powerful cosmic entities was one thing; Malrick understood the gap between levels of power. But Odin? He wasn't just spying—he was openly peeking into Kamar-Taj, as if Malrick wouldn't notice.
Did the All-Father think the Sling Ring in the hands of the new Sorcerer Supreme was just for show?
Even compared to his comic book counterpart—Odin at his peak, capable of casually destroying spiral galaxies—Malrick felt no fear.
If things truly escalated, he could bring forth the Time Fortress from within his Inner World. Sure, it couldn't currently be activated, but its presence alone could stall any force, even the Destroyer armor.
And Odin? He may have grown stronger over millennia, but the cost was written into his bones.
The more divine power an Asgardian amassed, the more it burdened their aging body.
Odin's frame was already on the brink of collapse, his body slowly yielding to the toll of time. Odinsleep wasn't far off.
If he wanted a fight, he'd risk losing control and razing Asgard itself.
"Hmm? So, you're the new Sorcerer Supreme?" Odin's voice was low, resonant. His single eye studied Malrick with detached curiosity as he sat atop his golden throne, resting against the shaft of Gungnir.
He hadn't expected Malrick to trace his surveillance and appear so quickly.
Though caught in the act, Odin showed no sign of apology.
He was, after all, Odin Borson—the God of War, a conqueror of realms. Words were not his preferred tool of diplomacy.
He had seen many Sorcerers Supreme throughout Earth's long history, and only a select few had earned even a sliver of his respect.
The Ancient One was one of them. But legends like her didn't appear in every generation.
"Welcome to Asgard, wizard of Midgard," he said, his voice echoing through the gleaming hall.
The throne room was like a miniature realm unto itself—divine, majestic, heavy with power. The All-Father loomed high above, radiating a crushing aura of dominance.
Malrick stepped through the portal alone, completely unfazed.
Behind him, Wong and Mordo followed through.
"Wait—did you just say Odin?" Mordo's voice caught in his throat.
The moment they passed into the palace, both men froze.
The radiant dome overhead, the sheer force of divine energy—every atom in the air trembled. It was like standing before a cosmic storm.
Wong and Mordo stared at Odin, then at Malrick, uncertain.
Their new Sorcerer Supreme wasn't bowing. He wasn't even showing basic courtesy.
He was just... staring coldly at the King of Asgard.
After a pause, the two disciples decided against bowing as well. Their faces hardened, postures bracing for tension.
Wong stopped mid-bite, quickly slipping on his Sling Ring. Mordo, already forming a defensive seal, took a hesitant step forward and forced out a composed greeting.
"Sir Odin. We appreciate your hospitality, but we must ask—why were you prying into Kamar-Taj?"
He raised his voice, growing bolder.
"The Ancient One once told us that Asgard and Earth were allies. Yet immediately after her passing, you breached our defenses without warning!"
Mordo stood tall, neither groveling nor posturing. He was speaking on behalf of Kamar-Taj.
Then, he leaned toward Malrick and muttered under his breath, "That's Odin. Please calm down. One wrong move and we're looking at inter-realm war."
"Also… we definitely can't beat him."
He was trembling inside.
Mordo had grown up on Norse mythology, and after joining Kamar-Taj, he learned the truth behind the legends. Odin was no mere god—he was a force of nature.
Until this moment, Mordo never thought he'd confront him, much less accuse him.
His knees were practically shaking.
To his horror, Malrick smiled.
"Well said," Malrick said cheerfully, patting Mordo's shoulder. "Odin, you heard him. Our Mordo demands an explanation."
A wave of panic crashed through Mordo. Cold sweat trickled down his neck.
Is he throwing me under the bus?! he thought.
Mordo turned with a horrified look, but paused when he saw Malrick calmly removing his coat.
A black substance slid across Malrick's skin, forming a tight, angular battle suit—sleek and powerful.
This wasn't a costume. It was armor.
Unlike the Superman suits Mordo had seen online, this one looked real—deadly, sharp, almost alien.
What Mordo didn't know was that it was alien tech.
The Black God Suit was forged beyond this world, capable of withstanding impacts below five hundred tons. It could morph and adapt on command.
For Malrick, it was both a shield and a symbol.
The moment the suit activated, his aura shifted. The atmosphere grew heavy, as if a mountain had inverted itself above them.
Mordo gasped.
Something about Malrick changed—his presence became overwhelming, almost unbearable. A pressure pierced into Mordo's head, making his eyes and nose ache.
It was like staring at a black hole made flesh.
But just as quickly as it came, the sensation vanished.
Malrick stood relaxed again, clean-cut, composed. No trace of the terror remained.
Mordo blinked. Was it just his imagination?
But then he noticed Odin had stood up.
The All-Father was silent, eyes locked on Malrick.
The room had fallen still.
Mordo could hear his own heartbeat pounding like drums of war.
It's over, he thought. Earth and Asgard are going to fight.
Then, something unexpected happened.
Odin exhaled—a long, heavy sigh.
It wasn't just air he released. It was pride, defiance, and something deeper—grief.
His shoulders slumped slightly, his stance softened.
"I apologize, Mordo," Odin said at last.
Mordo's eyes widened. Did Odin just… apologize?
But Odin wasn't looking at him. His gaze remained fixed on Malrick.
"I looked into Kamar-Taj because I learned the Ancient One had passed. I… I wanted to see an old friend, one last time."
He sighed again and slowly descended the steps of his throne.
"Forgive the intrusion. When you've lived as long as I have, the death of someone close feels like a mountain falling. Even now, it still hurts."
He came to a stop before Malrick, raising his eye to meet the young Sorcerer's.
To him, Malrick looked impossibly young—a flicker of light in the vast night sky of Odin's ancient life.
Mordo noticed a rare softness on the All-Father's face.
Then Odin spoke once more.
"That's a fine battle suit, Sorcerer Supreme. Asgard has a few treasures you might like. Consider taking some back—with our blessing."
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