Chapter 828

"If that’s the case, then there really isn’t anything we can do."

Once everyone learned that Clea would be spending a considerable amount of time traveling to Asgard to negotiate over the circumstances surrounding the Rainbow Bridge’s attack on Dormammu, Victor Sterling fell silent.

He gave Lily Grant a discreet glance.

She gave the slightest nod.

That was enough.

After all, there were some meetings where protocol mattered.

A normal diplomatic visit was one thing. One side visited the other, the host returned the courtesy later, or both parties agreed to meet somewhere neutral. Perfectly reasonable.

But this was Asgard.

Odin was hardly the sort of king who would travel to Earth merely to make a diplomatic gesture. And if they were meeting on Asgard, the location would inevitably be the Golden City.

Victor could already imagine it.

He would be standing.

Odin would be sitting.

Victor would be smiling politely while Odin maintained the expression of a man carved from stone.

And once negotiations were finished, Victor would say, Thank you for your time. I shall take my leave.

Only for Odin to answer, You may now kneel.

At that point, it stopped being diplomacy and started looking suspiciously like paying tribute.

So perhaps Clea really couldn’t afford to become Sorcerer Supreme right now.

Yet Olivian’s explanation had accomplished something else.

Everyone in the room had suddenly realized that Kamar-Taj’s problems didn’t end with Dormammu and the Dark Dimension.

There was Asgard.

The Asgardians weren’t an evil power. Their relationship with Earth was, for the most part, cordial. But that didn’t mean they had no ambitions.

Asgard had an empire.

And Earth, from their perspective, was one more kingdom that could potentially become part of it.

The greater problem was how easily Asgard could reach Earth.

Dormammu had needed followers on Earth to summon him. He had needed rituals, sacrifices, and the destruction of the three Sanctums’ defensive cores before he could properly invade.

Asgard needed none of that.

The Rainbow Bridge simply came down from the heavens.

The defensive network of the three Sanctums couldn’t stop it.

Earth had remained independent for so long largely because the Ancient One had stood at its center like an immovable pillar. With her gone, that pillar had vanished.

And among everyone remaining at Kamar-Taj, there was only one person capable of standing opposite Asgard on equal terms.

Clea.

She had the strength to serve as a deterrent, the knowledge to negotiate, and the connections necessary to navigate the complicated relationship between Earth and Asgard.

Even without the title of Sorcerer Supreme...

Perhaps the title was all she would be missing.

The thought occurred to nearly everyone in the room at the same time.

"Of course," Olivian continued. "Clea has voluntarily stepped aside for the sake of the greater good. She certainly won’t harbor any resentment over the decision."

The way he said it made it sound less like Clea had lost an election and more like she had graciously surrendered a position that had already been hers.

"Strange has accomplished a great deal, but he is still new to Kamar-Taj. There are many matters he doesn’t understand yet."

"The former Sorcerer Supreme also instructed Clea repeatedly to assist Strange. She made it clear that she would honor that responsibility. So there is no need to worry. If Strange encounters difficulties in the future, she will naturally help him."

Olivian paused.

"But how far that assistance should extend without crossing the boundaries of her authority is something we should establish now. Otherwise, we may place Clea in an awkward position later."

"Ahem!"

Victor Sterling abruptly stood.

He had actually been prompted by a sharp jab to his lower back.

Unfortunately, once he was standing, he had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to say.

Everyone stared at him.

"I think..." Victor dragged out the words while his eyes darted around the room.

Then inspiration struck.

"As Master Olivian said, Strange lacks experience. He shouldn’t be expected to handle the affairs of Kamar-Taj immediately. Someone with Clea’s experience should remain beside him to guide him."

Several people listened more carefully.

Victor’s confidence grew.

"So I suggest that, for the time being, all major matters concerning the three Sanctums be discussed with Clea first. Once a decision is reached, Strange can simply approve it and sign off."

Silence.

No one responded.

Not even Olivian.

Victor felt another jab against his back.

Right.

There was apparently more.

"Ah. Yes. One more thing."

He straightened.

"Strange still needs time to familiarize himself with the current situation. If he makes decisions without understanding the circumstances, he could easily issue orders that cause unnecessary problems. So, initially, I believe the Sorcerer Supreme’s seal should remain in Clea’s custody. Once Strange has become familiar with everything, it can be returned to him."

Olivian nodded repeatedly.

"Mm. Yes. That’s—"

Then he stopped.

His expression changed.

"How long does it take for Strange to become ’familiar with everything’?"

Victor froze.

"And when exactly does the seal get returned?"

Olivian’s eyes narrowed.

"Those details cannot remain vague. We need actual rules."

Victor suddenly looked as though he wanted to crawl beneath the table.

Fortunately, London Sanctum’s representative, Malthagan, came to his rescue.

"On that subject," Malthagan said smoothly, reaching into his robes, "I happen to have two references that may be useful."

He placed two books on the table.

Everyone looked down.

One was the Magna Carta.

The other was the Bill of Rights.

For reasons no one could explain, the London Sanctum’s sorcerer apparently carried both around with him.

"I believe these might provide some useful guidance," Malthagan said. "Strange will remain Sorcerer Supreme, and therefore must be afforded the appropriate respect. However, he does not need to personally administer every matter. Clea’s position would essentially be..."

"Prime Minister?"

"Chief Sorcerer," Malthagan corrected. "She would establish a magical council responsible for handling and deciding the affairs of Kamar-Taj."

"And what about future elections?"

"When someone else possesses Clea’s level of strength and accomplishments, we can discuss that."

Olivian nodded approvingly.

"Excellent. Then all that’s left is determining the size of this magical council and who will serve on it."

And so the matter was settled.

From that day forward, Kamar-Taj would operate under a rather unusual arrangement.

Clea would handle the government.

Strange would handle the throne.

Once the meeting finally ended, the two people who had performed particularly well during the proceedings immediately contacted their respective backers.

Victor slipped over to Lily.

"Junior Aunt, I did everything according to your instructions," he whispered. "So about next year’s food budget... You know, training magic is physically demanding work. We really can’t survive on turnips and cabbage forever."

Lily slapped him on the shoulder.

"Don’t worry. You won’t be short of food. You’ll have plenty of meat."

Victor’s face immediately brightened.

"Thank you, Junior Aunt!"

Across the room, Malthagan pulled out his phone.

"Professor Moriarty? Yes, everything went exactly as you predicted."

He listened for a moment.

"No, no. We were only able to survive because of your help. As for the rebuilding costs for the London Sanctum..."

Another pause.

"Understood. Thank you, Professor."

"Oh."

Evenson leaned back.

"So that’s what happened after I died."

Deep beneath the Evangelical Company’s headquarters, inside the Final Doctrine, Evenson and the Eredar Twins were entertaining a very unusual guest.

She was a woman dressed in an elegant black suit over a white shirt.

Her posture, however, was anything but elegant.

One leg was crossed over the other, a martini glass lazily turning between her fingers. Her jacket was open, and the top three buttons of her shirt had been undone.

Anyone from Kamar-Taj would have recognized her immediately.

Strange certainly would have.

So would every other sorcerer.

Because the woman sitting there was someone they believed to be dead.

The former Sorcerer Supreme.

The Ancient One.

Elsewhere, the woman herself slowly opened her eyes.

Cold.

That was the first thing she felt.

Cold metal beneath her back.

Then came the sensation of movement, followed by a long, slow breath.

The Ancient One remained motionless.

She simply stared upward.

Two minutes passed before she finally pushed herself upright.

Then she looked down.

She was naked.

"Oh, for—"

The Ancient One immediately curled in on herself.

Fortunately, someone had thoughtfully placed a neatly folded set of clothes nearby.

She grabbed them and hurriedly dressed.

Then she paused.

The clothes fit perfectly.

That’s strange.

She remembered dying.

At least, she was fairly certain she remembered dying.

So what exactly was this?

Resurrection?

Something else?

There was a full-length mirror nearby.

The Ancient One happened to glance at it.

Then she stopped.

Something looked wrong.

She studied her reflection from one angle.

Then another.

Same height.

Same build.

Everything seemed more or less identical.

Except...

What was different?

She stared for another few seconds.

Then her eyes widened.

"Oh."

She slowly raised both hands to her head.

Hair.

She had hair.

The Ancient One stared at her reflection in disbelief.

She actually had hair.

Which meant...

She was going to have to buy shampoo.

She grabbed the strands with both hands and tugged experimentally, as if checking whether she was wearing a wig.

It was real.

Eventually, she began inspecting the hairstyle more carefully.

It wasn’t bad.

The hair was blonde, the same color as her natural hair had been. It was short, slightly wavy, and a long strand fell diagonally across her forehead before sweeping down along the right side of her face.

Honestly?

It suited her.

Then she noticed something else.

Her magical power seemed weaker than before.

Is this what happens when you stop being bald?

The thought was almost offensive enough to make her reconsider resurrection entirely.

Before she could investigate further, the automatic doors opened.

The Ancient One continued examining her reflection.

"Evenson," she said without turning around. "This was your doing, wasn’t it?"

"Indeed."

Evenson stepped into the room.

He had waited outside for a very simple reason.

He had spent the past two hours watching the security feed.

Not because he particularly wanted to spy on the Ancient One.

He simply had no intention of walking into the room while she was naked.

A gentleman had standards.

"You really don’t need to worry about it," Evenson said. "It was only a small favor. I saved your life. A simple thank-you will suffice."

The Ancient One snorted.

Then she turned and studied him.

"Where’s Clea?"

She looked around.

"You didn’t do this without telling her, did you?"

"I don’t keep secrets from her."

Evenson shook his head.

"But she’s not here. You can probably guess why. Kamar-Taj has been dealing with quite a few problems since your death. She couldn’t exactly leave."

"Oh."

The Ancient One nodded thoughtfully.

"So she’s busy dividing up my inheritance."

There was a distinct edge to the remark.

Considering that she had finally made peace with dying, only to actually die and then be dragged back into the world before she had even reached the afterlife, Evenson couldn’t exactly blame her.

"She doesn’t know how to face you," he said quietly.

The Ancient One’s expression became unreadable.

"Oh."

Evenson quickly changed the subject.

"Come on. Let’s talk somewhere else."

He led her deeper into the Final Doctrine.

Once they were settled, Evenson explained everything that had happened during the selection of the new Sorcerer Supreme, including the arrangements he had quietly engineered behind the scenes.

The Ancient One listened without any visible surprise.

"You don’t seem surprised."

"Why would I be?"

She crossed one leg over the other.

"Given what I know about you and the balance of power within Kamar-Taj, this outcome was inevitable. And it isn’t particularly different from what I had planned myself."

She waved the matter away.

"Forget them."

The Ancient One reached up and absently pushed her hair away from her eyes.

"I spent more than a thousand years worrying about those people. I’m tired of it. They can figure things out for themselves now."

Her expression turned serious.

"Let’s talk about me."

She looked directly at Evenson.

"What exactly am I now?"

"And how did you bring me back?"

"Necromancy."

Evenson didn’t bother hiding anything.

"You’re an advanced undead creature now. A Death Knight."

The Ancient One’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"Death Knight?"

"More specifically, something closer to the original generation of Death Knights."

Evenson explained.

"When most people hear the term, they think of the Scourge. But the first Death Knights were created by the orc warlock Gul’dan. Teron Gorefiend was one of the most famous examples."

"Dead warlock souls were placed inside the corpses of human knights and raised through dark magic."

"Those beings retained the warlock magic they had possessed in life, while gaining stronger bodies and considerable martial ability. But because the warlock soul remained the dominant force, they were fundamentally different from the later Death Knights of the Scourge."

"In practical terms, they were spellcasters wearing plate armor."

Evenson looked at her.

"Given the way you’ve always fought, I don’t think that’s going to be much of a problem."

The Ancient One slowly swirled the martini in her hand.

"Undead."

She took a sip.

"I’m guessing that’s not the whole story."

She drained the glass.

"Undead creatures don’t have normal sensations. Or at least, they’re greatly diminished. But I don’t feel any different from when I was alive."

She took a breath.

"I can breathe normally."

She raised the empty glass.

"I can taste this."

She paused.

"It’s almost expired."

"You’re lucky I gave you anything at all."

Grand Warlock Alythess shot the Ancient One an irritated look.

Then her eyes suddenly brightened.

"But I have something much stronger. Want to try it?"

"No."

The Ancient One smiled and shook her head.

"I may be undead now, but I’d still prefer to avoid indulging in demonic tastes."

"A wise decision."

Evenson nodded solemnly.

"Those things are best left completely untouched."

"Cough."

Lady Sacrolash cleared her throat.

Evenson immediately redirected the conversation.

"The reason you can still experience all those sensations is simple."

"You were alive."

The Ancient One raised an eyebrow.

"Alive?"

"A necromantically reanimated undead creature can still be biologically alive under the right circumstances."

He leaned back.

"Clea asked me to do this. She told me you’d spent enough of your life suffering and wanted you to have a chance to actually enjoy being alive."

"That would normally be difficult."

"Undead bodies aren’t exactly famous for their ability to enjoy things."

"But modern science is wonderfully useful."

Evenson smiled.

"Biogenic technology."

The Ancient One waited.

"I had your body recovered from the hospital. Then I had it cleaned and put through a tissue-reconstruction system—"

"Could you phrase that differently?"

She stared at him.

"You make it sound like you’re making tomato sauce."

"All right."

Evenson considered it.

"Biological restoration facility. Better?"

"Much."

"Good."

He continued.

"Our scientists used biogenic technology to reconstruct your body from the recovered biological material."

He gestured toward her.

"The body is alive. Fully functional. Biologically active."

"And then I used the Death Knight creation process to bind your soul back into it."

The Ancient One looked down at herself.

"So this body is actually mine."

"Exactly."

"That explains why the soul and body fit together so well."

Evenson nodded.

"That’s also why the process was unusually smooth."

For the first time since waking, the Ancient One seemed genuinely satisfied.

She glanced toward the mirror again.

Then reached up and touched her hair.

"Still..."

She looked thoughtful.

"I think I like the hair."