First Mage of the Nine Realms

Germany, Stuttgart.

Outside the banquet hall, the crowd in the plaza was dressed to the nines, enjoying a pleasant evening. Classical music drifted out from the hall, mingling with the pop of champagne bubbles.

Then suddenly, the music stopped.

A black Quinjet silently sliced through the night sky like a razor cutting through velvet.

Immediately afterward, a figure dropped from the sky and landed heavily atop the sculpture in the center of the plaza. He wore an exaggerated golden horned helmet and a green cape. At the tip of the scepter in his hand, a ghostly blue light flickered like an evil eye.

It was Loki.

The conversations in the plaza fell silent. Dozens of eyes turned toward him in unison, filled with confusion and a trace of unease.

The next second, panic exploded like a lit fuse.

Loki thoroughly enjoyed the change. He loved watching elegant smiles freeze and turn into terrified screams. With a light wave of his scepter, he fired an energy beam that struck a police car parked by the roadside with perfect accuracy.

Boom!

Blinding flames swallowed the police car, and the blast wave knocked over several people who had been too slow to flee. The screams became hysterical. Like a kicked anthill, the crowd shoved, wailed, and scattered in all directions.

"Kneel!"

Loki's voice was amplified by magic, carrying an unquestionable authority that drowned out every other sound.

He stepped gracefully down from the sculpture as though descending from his own throne. Around him, more than a dozen identical illusions appeared out of nowhere, surrounding the remaining people whose legs had gone weak with fear.

"You were born craving slavery." Loki paced slowly, his voice carrying lofty elegance. "You chase power, yet fear true freedom. Kneel. Kneel for me! This is what you truly