Transmigrator

Loki lay prone on the ground, the bones in his hand screaming with pain beneath the heavy metal sole crushing it. He struggled to raise his head, only to see a black hand spread open, its fingers nearly brushing his nose. Countless particles of light spun into a vortex in the center of that palm, and deep blue radiance enveloped his face.

Cold sweat began to bead across the God of Mischief's forehead. At that moment, a powerful premonition rose from the depths of his heart: I'm definitely going to die. The pride and arrogance of an Asgardian vanished in an instant. He had never felt so small and helpless, while the black steel figure before him looked as terrifying as the God of Death against the eerie blue glow.

That moment felt incomparably long to Loki, but in reality, it lasted less than half a second. The palm cannon in the Black Armor rapidly finished charging, and a beam blasted forth, locked firmly onto Loki's face.

Yet this evil god seemed rather hard to kill. The tyrannical energy blast ultimately failed to blow his head apart. Fiery sparks burst from thin air, tracing an arc that formed a ring and solidified into a circular Magic Circle. Like a shield, it stood before Loki. The energy blast exploded against the magical shield with a thunderous boom, but failed to shake it in the slightest.

The Black Armor's helmet tilted slightly, and the glow in its V-shaped lenses seemed to flicker.

What a meddler, he muttered inwardly.

Loki was still frozen in place, utterly unable to understand why he had escaped death. But before he could spare a moment to think, another shower of sparks drew a circle beneath him—this time, it appeared to be a teleportation Magic Circle. Loki cried out as he suddenly fell through it, his prolonged scream cutting off abruptly as the circle vanished.

The yellow-robed sorcerer slowly emerged from some corner of the laboratory. She wore a hood, most of her face hidden beneath its shadow, but her build made it easy to tell that she was a woman. Her arms, pale and slender beneath her voluminous sleeves, seemed slightly out of place with the plain robe she wore.

"Ancient One." The figure in the Black Armor folded his arms. "I can't say I'm particularly surprised to see you here, but I'm absolutely not happy about it either."

"It has been so long since we last met. Aren't you going to spend some time talking with me?" the sorcerer asked calmly.

The man shrugged. "Fine by me."

The yellow-robed sorcerer made a gesture, and the two figures immediately seemed to distort—or rather, the space itself appeared to twist and fold. Their bodies spun as they were sucked into a point in space, vanishing from the spot in the blink of an eye.

Agent Barton crouched behind cover, staring at the spot where those three unknown figures had disappeared. He felt as though his side had suddenly become irrelevant spectators watching a show. He turned to Director Fury.

"So," he asked, "what do we do now?"

Nick Fury's expression was grim, his lips pressed into a nearly bloodless line.

"I don't know."

***

The Black Armor and the yellow-robed sorcerer stood in a highly unphysical manner on the side of a twenty-story building, their bodies completely parallel to the ground as traffic flowed endlessly along the bustling street dozens of meters below.

Of course, no one would notice them, because this was the "Mirror Dimension," a reflection of real space. Though it had always existed, it was difficult for ordinary people to perceive, and only those using the appropriate spells could enter it. Nothing that happened here would affect reality.

The sorcerer tucked both hands into her wide sleeves, crossing them behind her back.

"There is no need for a mask in front of me, is there?" She paused before speaking the armored man's name. "Michael Passo."

The armored man did not respond. He made a gesture, and sparks instantly erupted, cutting a circular magical portal through the space behind him. The armor covering his entire body came apart piece by piece. Hundreds of components detached from him and flew, one after another, into the portal.

Beneath the armor was a young man, seemingly no older than twenty, yet possessing eyes as sharp as an eagle's. He was lean, with unruly black hair, and gave the impression of an arrow drawn taut but not yet released.

The sorcerer removed her hood, revealing the gleaming bald head beneath it.

"What business does the Sorcerer Supreme, guardian of the dimensions, have coming here to chat with me?" Michael glanced at the busy street below. "Don't you have an entire plane to worry about?"

Ancient One looked at him for a moment without directly answering his question. "It seems you ultimately did not heed my advice."

Michael tilted his head. "You mean trying to kill Loki? Believe me, I was doing this world a favor. If that guy died here, we would save ourselves quite a bit of trouble later."

"You do not belong to this world. You traveled here from a higher dimension unimaginably distant from ours, so perhaps you know the future course of this world's development to a certain extent. But we discussed this matter back when you were still at Kamar-Taj," Ancient One said.

"Of course, I haven't forgotten." Michael's tone was flat. "You said I should not interfere with major events that affect the course of the world's history, because you believed fate should not be altered lightly. You were once my teacher. You personally taught me magic and led me through the gates of the mystic arts. I respect you deeply in most matters, sincerely. But what I still do not understand is why someone as capable as you remains bound by this so-called fate."

Ancient One gently shook her head. "It is precisely because one knows more that one can understand. If you alter history and erase one disaster, this world will always find another form to fill the gap. Loki may bring about certain calamities, but his destiny has not yet ended. He still has a pivotal role in the history of the future. Recklessly disrupting established laws and fixed outcomes according to your own preferences will only bring disasters beyond imagination."

"I don't buy that." Michael said, "I only believe that I hold my own fate in my hands. The path ahead must be carved out by oneself. So-called fate is nothing more than an excuse for escape. It was precisely because our fundamental beliefs differed that I chose to leave Kamar-Taj."

After a pause, he turned his head and glanced at the Sorcerer Supreme.

"You should have known long ago that I would never follow your path in the end," he said softly. "Yet despite that, you still taught me everything you knew."

Ancient One gave him a meaningful look for a while. Her eyes flickered briefly before her gaze returned beyond the mirror. On the other side, people hurried along, while vehicles flowed through man-made streets like an unbroken current.

"You are different from the others," she said after a long silence. "Your attainments in science and technology are profound, and your talent for magic and spells is equally rare. More valuable still is your gift for combining the two. I have never seen that in anyone before."

That was the truth. About three years earlier, Michael had appeared before the gates of Kamar-Taj and asked her to teach him magic. That very afternoon, Ancient One taught him the basic method for constructing spells and told him that the only secret to mastering magic was diligent practice.

In Ancient One's experience, most people needed more than a month of practice before they could construct a basic Magic Circle for the first time. Some geniuses might reduce that time to one or two weeks. Yet even she had never imagined that early the next morning, the young man would perfectly demonstrate the process of constructing a Magic Circle for her—he had even made a crude personal modification to the hand seal she had taught him.

Michael had not slept at all that night. Rather than mechanically repeating the exercises as the Sorcerer Supreme had instructed, he had tried to analyze magic from a scientific perspective by recording the various energy fluctuations during casting, drawing curves, and building models. To him, every practice session was like an experimental calibration, and recording the results of every experiment would help him perform better the next time.

Science and magic were both methods of understanding and applying the laws of the world. Their perspectives were merely different; the two were inherently interdependent and interconnected.

From that time onward, Ancient One realized that this young man was different. Back then, she might even have considered training Michael to become the next Sorcerer Supreme, but once she became certain that he would not obediently follow her teachings, she abandoned that notion.

"But even after learning that I might interfere with this world's original course in the future, you still taught me without reservation." Michael looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Maybe you simply refuse to admit it, but deep down, you want to make changes too, don't you? You can foresee the successive calamities this world will face. You speak of destiny being unchangeable, but deep down, you still hope someone will try to turn the tide."

Ancient One shook her head. "I taught you magic only because your nature is not wicked. I believed you would use it in the right places."

Michael shrugged. "Say whatever you like. But I made my position clear long ago—I am merely someone who thirsts for knowledge, not some noble hero."

Ancient One smiled faintly. "You simply have not realized it yet. But one day, when the time comes to choose, I know you will make the right choice."

The two fell silent for a moment. A loud horn sounded from the street beyond the mirror, and a biting cold wind swept along the face of the building, stirring the sorcerer's thin robes.

"So," Michael spoke again after a while, his gaze still fixed through the mirror on the brightly lit district, "what are you planning to do with Loki? You are not still planning to let him come back and continue doing what he intended to do, are you?"

Ancient One shook her head. "I have some acquaintance with Odin of the Asgardian Realm. Loki will be handed over to Asgardian Realm."

"Fine. Since he is in your hands now, I suppose I won't get another chance." Michael waved his hand, turned around, and made a gesture. The mirror cutting across the side of the building seemed to respond to the command conveyed by that gesture, rapidly shifting and splitting open a gap, like a door swinging open.

Michael walked perpendicularly along the wall toward that door. Before leaving, he paused and turned halfway around.

"You know," he said, "what I mentioned to you before still stands."

Ancient One's expression remained calm. "If you mean my death, I know."

Michael frowned. "Are you sure you don't want to know the details?"

Ancient One smiled. "Everyone dies eventually, and I have already lived long enough. I can feel that my time is near, but that too is an arrangement of fate. So there is no need to worry."

Michael shook his head, seemingly still unable to understand her way of thinking. But he finally said nothing more, turning and walking through the gap in the mirror, leaving that wondrous space. The mirror sealed itself behind him, smooth as though not a single crack had ever appeared.