Chapter 636

Things went smoothly on Moira’s end.

Once she played her trump card, Samantha folded with surprisingly little resistance.

To be fair, Samantha had brought it on herself. As a federal prosecutor entrusted with upholding justice, she should have been the first person to obey the law. Instead, she’d chased career advancement, treated innocent lives as collateral damage, then gambled that she could bury the evidence by abusing her authority.

Whatever happened to her after that, she had earned.

And even setting all of that aside, she had managed to get herself tangled up in the Park Massacre of all things.

The Black Chapter was still relatively new. Moira might not have known every detail about matters outside its primary responsibilities, but the Park Massacre was different. She knew that case inside and out, largely because she had no choice.

The Eredar Twins’ newly adopted goddaughter, the absurdly long-named little Princess Angelica, was directly connected to it.

Her biological father was the man Samantha had framed as a violent psychopath suffering from a stress-related disorder, supposedly driven to slaughter his own family.

Naturally, the Eredar Twins had investigated the entire affair down to the last detail.

They believed that the darkness surrounding Angelica’s past might become the perfect fuel for her growth.

She could carry that hatred, overcome it, and emerge as someone powerful enough to stand above it.

Or she could drown in the hatred, descend into madness, and eventually destroy herself in a bloodbath.

The Twins seemed equally interested in seeing which path she would take.

Once everything was settled, Moira called to report the results.

Unfortunately, the Eredar Twins themselves answered.

Their instructions were simple.

Handle it yourself.

Judging by their tone, they didn’t seem to be in the best of moods.

Evenson, meanwhile, had said nothing about the matter. He had already left the company and gone home.

Cleya had been away at Kamar-Taj for a meeting, and she’d just returned.

Evenson had several reasons for being so eager to get home. He needed to know what was happening at Kamar-Taj, and, more importantly, he wanted to hear the answer to the question he’d asked Cleya to investigate.

It had absolutely nothing to do with that old saying about absence making the heart grow fonder.

Not a thing.

Definitely.

The next morning, after finishing their usual morning workout, Evenson and Cleya went out for another round of exercise.

After their run, they stopped at a little coffee stand and found a table.

A moment later, their coffee arrived.

Evenson took one sip.

His face immediately tightened.

"Ugh..."

He stared into the cup.

"This is instant."

Cleya barely reacted.

"Seventy-five cents a cup, with free refills. Try being grateful."

"It’s cheaper to drink it at home."

Evenson’s eyes suddenly lit up.

He drained his cup in one go, waved the server over for a refill, and, when the server left, casually kept the entire coffee pot on the table.

"I brought back some coffee from a mission a few days ago," he said. "Real Colombian coffee. None of this instant garbage. You’ll see the difference."

Cleya rolled her eyes.

"If SHIELD ever launches an internal corruption investigation, you’re going to be the first person they arrest."

"It’s not that serious."

Evenson laughed.

Then he got to the point.

"So? What happened with the thing I asked you about?"

"It’s... complicated."

Cleya slowly set down her cup.

"Regarding your request to send two people to Kamar-Taj for training, the Ancient One doesn’t object. Some of the others do, though. They think you’re trying to send spies there to steal their techniques."

Evenson nearly laughed into his coffee.

"Steal their techniques? Why would I need to do that? Am I supposed to steal the Eye of Agamotto? Or maybe haul the Dark Dimension home while I’m at it?"

The two people he wanted to send were Watson and Holmes.

It was an experiment.

Evenson wanted to find out whether the methods used to manipulate the mystic arts could also be applied to controlling the Ultimate Beings’ power inside the two of them. The two forms of energy even shared the same yellow coloration, which at least gave him a starting point.

Officially, he was sending them to Kamar-Taj to study.

In practice, he only cared about having them learn from the Ancient One.

The other Masters and Guardians didn’t interest him nearly as much.

After all, the Ancient One’s overwhelming power was inseparable from two things.

One was the Time Stone, housed within the Eye of Agamotto.

The other was the Dark Dimension, which supplied her with an immense reservoir of magical power.

One couldn’t exactly be stolen.

The other wasn’t worth stealing in the first place.

"Of course," Cleya said. "Master Ollivon has seen your power firsthand. He knows you have no reason to steal from them. Besides, you’re an... unconventional mage. Your methods are completely incompatible with traditional mystic arts. Even if you stole their techniques, they probably wouldn’t be useful to you."

Evenson raised an eyebrow.

"Unconventional?"

Cleya sighed.

"That’s his opinion. Apparently, according to him, any mage who spends an entire fight standing safely in the back and casting spells is an unconventional mage."

She paused.

"A proper mage is supposed to pretend to cast spells, distract the enemy, then charge forward and smash their head in with a weapon."

She thought about it.

"The last part is my interpretation."

And that guy has the nerve to call me unconventional?

Evenson clicked his tongue.

This was exactly why he thought the spellcasters of this world had more in common with monks than actual mages.

"Anyway," Cleya continued, "he did have one question. And honestly, I’m curious about it too."

"What?"

"If you want to train these two people, why don’t you teach them yourself? Why send them to Kamar-Taj when their methods are so completely different from yours?"

Evenson fell silent for a moment.

Then he gave a quiet sigh.

"Some knowledge isn’t meant to be passed around."

His expression grew serious.

"There are already enough warlocks in one world. We don’t need more."

Evenson had never intended to establish a school of warlock magic.

Giving someone a little fel energy was already dangerous enough. Teaching them how to obtain and manipulate fel energy themselves was another matter entirely.

That was a risk he had no intention of taking.

"Forget that for now."

Evenson picked up the coffee pot and poured himself a third cup.

"What else happened at the meeting? Surely the entire thing wasn’t about my request."

"I was getting to that."

Cleya pushed the coffee pot toward him, apparently eager to put some distance between herself and the stuff.

"The Ancient One may have finally found the apprentice she’s been looking for."

Evenson’s expression immediately soured.

He took a large gulp of coffee to settle himself.

"Found one?"

"Apparently."

"Who?"

"Doctor Stephen Strange."

Cleya leaned back.

"Two weeks ago, he was involved in a serious car accident. He survived, but both of his hands were essentially destroyed."

"Oh..."

Evenson drew the word out.

Then he slowly turned toward Cleya.

His expression became... complicated.

He remembered thinking that Strange was a promising candidate and trying to find a way to get him onto the path of sorcery.

The Ancient One had rejected the idea outright back then.

She’d insisted on holding to her principles.

And now this happened?

Cleya’s expression immediately darkened.

"Don’t look at me like that. I know exactly what you’re thinking."

She straightened, her voice suddenly taking on a grand, solemn tone.

"You think Kamar-Taj would resort to such vile, despicable, underhanded methods? Naturally not! Such dishonorable schemes were rejected by the Ancient One herself. Compared to the purity of the Sorcerer Supreme’s soul, your twisted heart is nothing more than a filthy stone at the foot of the mountain!"

Evenson stared at her.

"Just tell me what happened."

He shook his head.

Cleya’s dramatic speeches were a sure sign that her particular brand of theatricality had returned.

And whenever she talked like this, the truth behind the speech was usually much less impressive.

Cleya’s entire face collapsed.

"Fine. We just got lucky."

She pouted.

"That’s it. Nothing happened. We were still trying to figure out what to do, and then he went and crashed his own car."

"The Ancient One thought the timing was so ridiculous that she initially suspected someone below her had secretly arranged it. She even went to the scene herself and used the Eye of Agamotto to review what happened several times."

Cleya shook her head.

"In the end, she had no choice but to conclude that the idiot really did it to himself."

"How?"

"He was driving late at night while exhausted and speeding. He was listening to music. While listening to music, he was on the phone. While on the phone, he was watching video files."

She held up a finger for each offense.

"And through all of that, he apparently never thought to slow down or stop."

Cleya spread her hands.

"He rear-ended a truck hauling steel reinforcement bars. His car flipped several times before crashing off the road. He ended up with multiple pieces of rebar and shattered glass embedded in him."

She paused.

"And after the investigation, he was still found completely at fault."

Evenson sat there for a moment.

He genuinely didn’t know what to say.

"Well..."

He slowly nodded.

"So, safe driving really is important."

He looked solemnly into the middle distance.

"A bloody lesson for all of us."

After a moment, he smiled.

"Still, I suppose this counts as fate. Looks like Strange was simply born with a connection to Kamar-Taj. The Ancient One accepting him now would just be going along with destiny."

"Exactly."

Cleya leaned forward.

Then, very carefully, she lowered her voice.

"Which brings us to the reason I needed to talk to you."

"What does the Ancient One want?"

"The Ancient One asked me to pass along a question."

Evenson raised an eyebrow.

"Go ahead."

Cleya smiled.

"Have you heard about a red potion that’s recently appeared on the market? Apparently it’s extremely effective at treating physical injuries."

Evenson’s expression became awkward.

"I’ve... heard of it."

Of course he had.

It was the healing potion the Eredar Twins had recently released.

Cleya narrowed her eyes.

"Do you think it could heal Doctor Strange’s hands?"

"It can..."

Evenson started to answer.

Then he noticed the expression on Cleya’s face.

"...or it can’t."

Cleya stared at him.

"You’re asking me whether your company’s potion works?"

She turned her head away in irritation.

The potion was legally available on the market. The name of the company responsible for it was printed right there on the label.

Everyone else might have been ignorant of the company’s real nature.

Cleya certainly wasn’t.

Evenson rubbed his chin.

"That depends on how severe the damage is. The potion was developed by the Twins, and it’s an alchemical formula. I don’t know the exact limits of its healing properties."

Cleya still didn’t look satisfied.

So Evenson added, "A potion can’t cure absolutely everything. If the injuries are too severe, there’s no shame in it failing."

He paused.

"And our relationship with the nurses is pretty good..."

Cleya’s head snapped around.

Her eyes widened.

"Which nurse?"

Evenson immediately started waving his hands.

"Not like that!"

He really didn’t need this misunderstanding.

"I mean the company has to work with doctors and nurses to improve sales. We hired professionals to persuade medical staff to give the product a fair chance."

"Oh."

Cleya visibly relaxed.

"So?"

Evenson considered the problem.

"Well, I could contact one of those professionals again."

He smiled innocently.

"Maybe they could persuade a certain nurse that, when she gives Doctor Strange the potion, she should secretly dilute it with some water."

Cleya stared at him.

"Then..."

Evenson spread his hands.

"Whether it works or doesn’t work, everyone gets their answer."