Chapter 812

In the end, Evenson put Stephen Strange’s soul back where it belonged.

Exactly how he managed it—and, more importantly, exactly where he put it—was a detail best left unexplored.

"Ugh... ah..."

Strange abruptly sat upright.

This time, his body came with him.

He remained on the floor for several seconds, blinking rapidly as his eyes darted around the room. His breathing was ragged, and he looked like a man who had just woken from a nightmare he couldn’t quite remember.

Then he noticed the Ancient One.

Strange immediately scrambled backward several feet before finally getting to his feet.

"What just happened?"

When someone who had spent his entire life operating within a narrow framework of knowledge suddenly encountered something that completely contradicted everything he understood, how did he react?

By calmly accepting it?

Of course not.

That would give humanity far too much credit.

Instead, Strange desperately tried to force the impossible into the framework he already understood.

"What did you put in the tea?" he demanded. "Scopolamine? Hallucinogens?"

Evenson stared at him.

"You actually want some? I know a place where you can get the good stuff."

Because of the... unusual preferences of the two people he lived with, Evenson had picked up more knowledge about recreational substances than he’d ever expected to possess.

"But I wouldn’t recommend touching any of that," he continued earnestly. "You’re a doctor. You know what those things do to people. They’re not something a human being should mess with."

He pointed at himself.

"Even I don’t touch them. And look at me."

To emphasize his point, Evenson casually conjured a ball of brilliant flame in his palm.

Strange narrowed his eyes.

"What is that supposed to be? White phosphorus?"

Evenson snorted.

The flame in his hand immediately turned green.

"Magnesium powder can produce something similar."

His expression twitched.

He extinguished the flame, then let purple light gather around his palm.

"Fluorescent powder."

Strange stared at him.

"..."

Evenson gave a helpless little shrug.

There was an old saying about people who pretended to be asleep.

You could never wake them up.

The Ancient One, standing nearby, finally failed to suppress a small laugh.

She was far too dignified to mock Evenson at a moment like this, though.

"You experienced something very real," she told Strange. "Your soul was pulled from your body. For a brief time, you walked through the realm of the soul."

"No. It was the real world."

Evenson immediately interrupted.

"There is no special world where souls walk around. Unless he went to Heaven or Hell."

The Ancient One slowly closed her eyes.

She inhaled.

Exhaled.

Then opened her eyes again with the patient smile of a saint.

"Could you be quiet for a moment?"

"Please?"

Evenson hesitated.

Then nodded.

"Fine."

He moved to the side and wisely stopped talking.

The Ancient One’s tone suggested that continuing might result in her drawing that sword again.

Strange was still breathing heavily.

"Why would you do that to me?"

He remained confused and frightened, but something fundamental had changed.

He could no longer simply dismiss the existence of souls.

"I need you to understand how much you don’t know."

The Ancient One raised one hand.

If someone refused to wake up, sometimes the simplest solution was to stop being gentle.

She pressed her thumb against Strange’s forehead.

"Open your eyes."

"Ah—!"

Strange suddenly felt weightless.

His body shot upward.

The room vanished.

He rose through the sky at impossible speed, leaving the building behind, then the city, then the atmosphere itself.

Earth fell away beneath him.

He entered the vast darkness of space.

For one brief moment, everything stopped.

Strange floated there, suspended in the void.

Then he noticed something.

A yellow butterfly was fluttering in front of him.

A butterfly.

In space.

Strange stared at it in bewilderment.

He reached out.

The instant his fingers moved toward it, reality seemed to shift.

Gravity seized him.

He plummeted.

Down.

Faster.

Faster.

The Ancient One’s voice echoed through the void.

"You believe you understand how the world works. You believe you understand the nature of the universe."

The darkness blurred around him.

"What is real? What is false? And what secrets exist beyond everything you think you know?"

Strange suddenly found himself somewhere else.

A realm unlike anything he’d ever seen.

Impossible structures.

Impossible landscapes.

Impossible colors.

Things existed here that shouldn’t have been possible.

"This is just one world among countless others," the Ancient One’s voice continued.

"The universe is infinite."

Strange fell through another strange dimension.

"Some worlds are beautiful and pure."

The scenery changed.

"And some are filled with hatred, violence, and darkness."

The darkness swallowed him.

He found himself falling through a place where even light seemed reluctant to exist.

Something was there.

Something enormous.

Strange couldn’t make out its full form.

But he could see its eyes.

They were vast.

Ancient.

Hungry.

And utterly devoid of mercy.

"In the darkest corners of existence," the Ancient One said, "forces beyond your understanding wait patiently for the opportunity to consume everything we know."

Strange stared into those eyes.

His entire being trembled.

That was the limit the Ancient One had chosen for him.

She wanted him to understand that reality was far larger than the tiny portion he’d spent his life studying.

But she had no intention of exposing him to everything she knew.

The darkness vanished.

Strange suddenly found himself back in the chamber.

He collapsed at the Ancient One’s feet.

She looked down at him calmly.

"You’ve never seen anything like that before, have you?"

Strange’s legs were shaking.

For perhaps the first time in his life, Stephen Strange had encountered something he couldn’t explain away.

His breathing became ragged.

Then he dropped to his knees.

"Teach me."

"Cough."

Evenson gave a pointed cough.

The Ancient One immediately understood.

"No."

She rejected him without hesitation.

Then Evenson grabbed Strange by the collar, dragged him outside, and tossed him through the entrance of Kamar-Taj.

He crouched beside the fallen doctor.

"What exactly are you thinking? You haven’t even been admitted, and you’re already asking to become a disciple?"

Strange pushed himself upright.

He stared at Evenson with utter frustration.

"Could you please speak English?"

Evenson blinked.

This man had a strange habit.

Whenever he wasn’t arguing, half of what he said sounded like complete nonsense.

"Fine. Here’s the simple version."

Evenson patted Strange firmly on the back three times.

"You don’t get to walk into Kamar-Taj, decide you believe in magic, and demand that we teach you everything we know. Think first. Figure out what you actually want."

He stood.

"If you can’t understand that, then go back where you came from."

Evenson walked back inside.

The doors slammed shut.

"No! Wait!"

Strange sprang to his feet and rushed after him.

He hammered both fists against the doors.

"You can’t do this!"

Nothing.

"You showed me that there’s hope!"

Still nothing.

"You can’t show someone the answer and then throw them away!"

He leaned against the door, breathing hard.

"And where exactly am I supposed to go?"

He looked down at himself.

"You idiots burned my passport. Some bastard stole my plane ticket. I can’t even check into a hotel!"

He pounded on the door again.

"Where am I supposed to go back to?!"

Inside, the Ancient One had already moved on.

She went to the observatory and began using the magical instruments there to monitor Earth’s mystical defenses and check the surrounding dimensions for unusual activity.

It wasn’t long before Mordo came to see her.

He had come because of Strange.

"He’s been sitting outside for five hours," Mordo said. "He still hasn’t left."

Mordo was a serious man, but he wasn’t cruel.

Seeing Strange sitting outside in that miserable state had begun to bother him.

Perhaps Kamar-Taj had gone too far.

"You think I shouldn’t have sent him away?"

The Ancient One glanced at her disciple before returning her attention to the magical instruments.

"He has a certain drive," Mordo said.

He admired Strange’s determination.

There was also the small matter of the fact that they’d burned the man’s passport.

"He can’t even leave the country properly. We destroyed his passport and threw him into the street. Isn’t that a little excessive?"

"He’s stubborn, arrogant, and ambitious."

The Ancient One’s expression became distant.

"I’ve seen those qualities before."

She thought of Kaecilius.

"He eventually fell into darkness. I don’t want to lose another talented disciple."

The Ancient One had agreed with Evenson’s decision to reject Strange.

But her purpose wasn’t simply to demonstrate that Kamar-Taj’s teachings were not given freely.

She wanted to see whether Strange’s arrogance could be broken.

After centuries of watching people rise and fall, and after experiencing more than enough pain herself, she understood the difference between having pride and being ruled by pride.

"But you didn’t lose me."

Mordo smiled proudly.

He knew that, in many ways, he shared similarities with Kaecilius.

Yet he had overcome the temptation of darkness.

That remained one of his greatest sources of pride.

"I wanted the strength to defeat darkness. You gave me that strength. You helped me overcome my demons."

"Demons aren’t destroyed, Mordo."

The Ancient One’s voice softened.

"We simply learn how to live with them."

She didn’t need to look for another example.

She herself was the best proof.

Morgan.

Guinevere.

Mordred.

Figures who had become legendary throughout history.

All of them had originated from her.

And all of them had, in one way or another, helped destroy the kingdom she had created.

Even Arthur—the shining king who had always sought to do what was right—could be regarded as another manifestation of those inner demons.

Centuries had passed.

Kingdoms had risen and fallen.

Those people had vanished into history.

But the Ancient One knew they had never truly disappeared.

They had simply returned to her.

Even now, she could feel those personalities stirring somewhere inside her.

Especially after Evenson arrived.

She had lost count of how many times she’d nearly drawn Excalibur and unleashed enough force to level a city directly into his face.

"The stolen pages from that book are still in Kaecilius’s possession," the Ancient One continued.

"He has already learned how to connect to the Dark Dimension."

"If he succeeds, that darkness could destroy all of us."

She looked toward Mordo.

"We need more heroes."

That was enough.

The Ancient One considered the situation for a moment.

Then she nodded.

Mordo smiled.

He had gotten his answer.

But before he could leave, the Ancient One added,

"He still doesn’t know, does he?"

Mordo paused.

Then he left.

The moment he was gone, Evenson emerged from somewhere nearby.

Judging by the timing, he’d been listening for quite a while.

"Doesn’t know what?"

The Ancient One’s eye twitched.

Seeing Evenson immediately awakened every one of her inner demons.

She suppressed them and calmly asked,

"What are you talking about?"

"Your plan."

Evenson crossed his arms.

"Mordo probably thinks you’re simply trying to take on another disciple and train a powerful new sorcerer."

He shook his head.

"He doesn’t know you’re preparing Strange to become the next Sorcerer Supreme."

"At least, the public one."

"And he certainly doesn’t know what you’re doing with Clea."

The Ancient One sighed.

"Mordo is stubborn. He doesn’t adapt easily."

She looked back toward the observatory.

"Much of that comes from the environment in which he was raised. There are certain things he simply cannot accept, and others he would never be able to do."

She paused.

"Knowing too much would help him less than you might think."

Evenson looked at her.

"You aren’t blind to your disciples’ flaws. You don’t have poor judgment when it comes to people."

He sighed.

"Your problem is that you’re too kind."

"You approach people with complete sincerity."

"But if someone doesn’t have the capacity to carry that trust, you shouldn’t cultivate them. And you certainly shouldn’t make them believe they’re more important to you than they actually are."

"You have no idea how many false hopes that kindness can create."

"How many people it can fill with unnecessary ambition."

"And how many people can’t bear the weight of your trust and end up destroying themselves under the guilt."

The Ancient One smiled bitterly.

"I’ve been like this for a long time."

"More than a thousand years."

"It’s difficult to change."

Evenson glanced sideways at her.

"Then the fall of Camelot and the collapse of the Round Table..."

He narrowed his eyes.

"They weren’t entirely unrelated to that habit of yours, were they?"

"The king who didn’t understand people."

The Ancient One slowly turned her head.

Her gaze could have frozen fire.

For one brief moment, all four of her inner demons seemed to reach the same conclusion.

Kill him.

She took a slow breath.

Then another.

Eventually, she regained control.

"I just had Mordo bring Strange into Kamar-Taj," she said. "Do you have anything else planned?"

"Not at the moment."

Evenson knew perfectly well that she’d deliberately changed the subject.

He decided not to push it.

"Although something is bothering me."

"What?"

"I gave Strange a hint."

The Ancient One frowned.

"What hint?"

"I patted him on the back three times."

She stared at him.

Evenson looked completely serious.

"I expected him to understand."

The Ancient One thought about it for several seconds.

Then her expression slowly changed.

"Oh."

That particular hint.

She folded her arms.

"Back when Xuanzang traveled west in search of Buddhist scriptures, he once spoke with me at length. So I understand what you’re trying to communicate."

Evenson stared at her.

Then his face twisted in disbelief.

"Are you kidding me?"

The Ancient One blinked.

"Strange is an American."

"He has absolutely no idea what that gesture means."

Silence filled the observatory.

The Ancient One looked toward the distant doors.

Somewhere outside, Stephen Strange was still pounding on them.

Evenson sighed.

"Five hours."

"He’s been out there for five hours."

The Ancient One closed her eyes.

For the first time, she wondered if perhaps she’d made a mistake.

Not in choosing Strange.

In ever allowing Evenson into Kamar-Taj.