Aeaea, Inside a Cave.
Ninety years before the Events That Began the Second World War.
"Heron!"
I am awakened by a voice calling my name. I rise from a bed made of stone, covered with a blanket woven from black sheep's wool. Around me was what I called my room—nothing more than a vast open space, with an old shelf filled with books as ancient as time itself, illuminated by luminous roots spreading across the ceiling and throughout the cave.
I walk toward the exit, and as I step outside, I see the woman who adopted me as her son preparing lunch in a cauldron set over the fire.
"Finally awake. I was starting to think I'd have to drag you out of bed," Circe said, stirring the cauldron with a ladle.
"It's not that bad."
"Now sit down, lunch is almost ready."
I obey, sitting on the wooden log. After a few minutes, she walks over to me carrying a bowl of soup, and I have to say—the smell was delicious.
"Here you go, my famous meat stew!" Circe said excitedly, clearly eager to see me taste it.
I take the wooden spoon resting in the bowl, scoop up a generous portion, and bring it to my mouth. Instantly, a divine, miraculous flavor overwhelms my taste buds.
"Wonderful. Are you sure you're not the goddess of food?" I ask, amazed by the meal in my hands.
"No, dear. That title belongs to Demeter, as far as I know," Circe laughed.
"I'll be at Hecate's temple. When you finish your lunch, come meet me there, dear," she continued, walking away. With a light gesture of her hand, the fire beneath the cauldron was extinguished as if it had never existed.
How I love magic.
I sigh, returning to the divine stew in my hands, stopping to think—how many years has it been again?
Ten years. It's been ten years since I reincarnated in this world.
In the first few months, I didn't have my memories. They only began to return when I turned four, and even then, they didn't all come back at once. Over the years, more memories resurfaced, and by the time I was eleven, they had fully returned. The memories I regained included my family, ordinary life experiences, academic knowledge, and, most importantly, knowledge about the world I was now in.
The Marvel Universe.
When I realized which universe I was in, sheer terror seized me, making Circe believe I was cursed.
Imagine my shock upon discovering that this was the same Circe from the famous Odyssey, the one who transformed Odysseus's crew into pigs, living on this island forgotten by the gods. Even now, I don't know what year it is or which events have already occurred in this world.
And leaving the island isn't an option either. After all, this is a prison crafted by the gods for Circe. Five kilometers out to sea, there exists a magical barrier that separates this entire region from the normal space of the human world, completely isolating the island.
Even accepting that I am in the Marvel Universe—where gods, aliens, villains, and heroes coexist and are real—I truly never expected that, among all possibilities, I would reincarnate as a demigod.
Half human and half god.
I was the son of Zeus—the god of thunder and lightning, lord of the skies, and King of the Gods. It wasn't difficult to figure out. When Circe spoke my full name, I immediately suspected Zeus was my father, something she soon confirmed.
The only secret regarding my origin is who my mother is—something Circe has firmly refused to tell me. In fact, I could see fear in her eyes whenever I mentioned my mother.
Finally finishing the stew and setting the bowl down to my left, I stand up and look at the sun's position, seeing that it was exactly noon. I walk in the same direction as the woman I consider my mother, heading toward the temple of the goddess Hecate.
Ten minutes after following the forest trail, I arrive at a beach of pale sand, gentle waves breaking in a steady rhythm. The salty scent of the sea grew stronger, carried by the wind.
I walk a bit farther, and on the horizon an ancient Greek temple appears. With each step, it becomes clearer. It had no walls—only old white columns, their capitals decorated with crescent moons.
Entering it, I see an empty space containing only an impressive four-meter-tall statue, composed of three bodies joined back to back, forming a perfect circuit. One held two torches, another held an ancient key, and the third wielded a ritual dagger. Standing before it was Circe, observing it intently.
"I built this temple as a refuge millennia ago, believing that, by doing so, I might draw my mother's attention. Back then, I was only a young woman consumed by longing…" Circe said, her voice heavy with ancient nostalgia.
"Did you ever try asking her for help?" I asked.
"That would be foolish. Not even she can defy the magic and authority of the King of Olympus."
She replied as she turned to face me, her expression serious.
"Now we must focus on the present, Heron, and only then on the future," Circe said again as a light blue energy appeared in her hand and stretched toward me.
"Klick… klick… krak."
The sound, like cracking wood, appeared and vanished in the same instant—and then, like a punch, I felt and heard everything.
I could smell a flower from several meters away and distinguish it from the salty scent of the sea. I could hear the tiny footsteps of ants on the sand. Beyond that, I could feel that I was stronger.
Why was I so calm? Simple—concentration. Circe had always taught me to stay focused since I was five years old, even though I didn't know why at the time.
"What did you do?" I asked, still shocked by what had happened.
"I merely removed the seal I placed on you when you were little. It prevented your powers from awakening, and because of your age, its release resulted in an explosion of attributes."
So that was why I had always felt like an ordinary human, despite being a demigod.
"But that's not why I brought you here, my son. It's time for you to learn magic."
She said this as a living flame appeared in her palm, only to vanish the instant she closed her hand.
"Finally!" I shouted, unable to contain the excitement that overtook me.
The first time she showed me magic, my eyes shone like stars. When I asked if she could teach me, she quickly refused, saying it was far too dangerous. It stayed that way for five years.
"Heron, tell me—what is magic?" she asked.
I had to think. My memories of magic in the Marvel Universe were rather rudimentary; I had never focused much on it. Still, I could confidently say it involved manipulating the natural world.
"Manipulating the natural world?" I answered uncertainly.
"Almost. Magic is taking a thought and making it real. Taking a lie and turning it into truth—telling a story to the universe so absolutely, so cosmically perfect, that for one bright, shining instant, the world believes a man can fly," Circe said calmly as the center of the temple began to change, stone workbenches appearing along with shelves filled with scrolls.
"But first, you must learn the four paths of magic in theory. Only then will your training begin."
And so, I spent the next two hours learning the four paths of magic.
The first three paths were discovered thousands of years ago by Agamotto, the first Sorcerer Supreme of Earth. The fourth path—infamous necromancy—was created by a god of chaos banished from this reality. I had a pretty good guess who that was.
Continuing on—the first path of magic is Egocentric Magic. This magic derives from the connection to the sorcerer's own spiritual energy, focusing on the mental and spiritual aspects of magic. As such, it is the first step to be mastered by anyone seeking to become a sorcerer.
The second path, Egocentric Magic, allows the sorcerer to connect their own life force to the ambient mystical energies of the environment and manipulate them.
On Earth, magical energies known as ley lines flow throughout the world, with rare exceptions—places where mystical energies are far greater, located at the intersections of two ley lines.
In my case, Circe explained that because of my lineage, I would be more inclined to manipulate the mystical energies of my native dimension—Olympus—which is practically an infinite reservoir of magical energy, being a divine realm.
An example of Egocentric Magic was the fire Circe conjured hours earlier.
The third path, Exocentric Magic, allows one to draw upon forces from other dimensions and request aid from the mystical beings that inhabit them—the so-called Mystic Principalities. The gods also fall into this category. This is the advanced and most powerful form of magic, requiring the learning and execution of complex spells and mastery of subtle gestures.
The weaker the sorcerer and the stronger the Principality, the more complex the ritual required to invoke its power.
Finally, the last path—Necromancy—draws power from the potent energy generated by death, such as human sacrifices.
It is the only form of magic Circe made me swear never to use—not that I would, since I know very well the price paid for wielding it.
There are also other paths of magic that have been created or discovered over the millennia, but these four remain the primary ones.
As for determining whether a sorcerer will be powerful, it comes down to just two factors: mystical potential, which is the innate amount of spiritual energy every living being possesses, and talent. Yes—no matter how much spiritual energy you have, if you lack talent, you will never truly wield magic.
Being half Olympian, I don't need to worry much about these factors. They possess immense mystical potential, and as gods, they have a natural gift for magic.
Even so, I can tell that I still have a long road ahead of me.