Toad Convention

Turbulent undercurrents swept the globe. The major powers shook hands and made peace on the surface, treated the newly inaugurated President Kingpin with courtesy, and praised Mutants to the skies. Behind closed doors, each had its own agenda.

Afraid of Russell and the power Mutants now wielded, no one dared stir up trouble openly. But their status as great powers had been challenged. How could they stand by and watch their authority slip away?

In the secure nuclear bunkers of nearly every major nation, in hidden villain lairs, and in the underground sanctuaries of secretive cults, people cursed Russell and speculated about him.

Everyone feared him and guarded against him. Some secretly wished him dead, while still more searched for a way to keep him in check.

Yet Russell had no interest in the uproar outside, though he stood at the center of a storm of covert maneuvering among the world's powers.

His panoramic penthouse suite in Manhattan shut out every cheer, cry of worship, and clamor from the streets below. The only sound in the quiet room was the faint movement of Magic Runes.

The room was sparsely furnished, without a single gaudy decoration. Only an aged, yellowed copy of the Book of the Vishanti floated in midair, its pages turning on their own.

Dense ancient Magic Runes flickered and moved across the paper, giving off an aura of mystery unique to magic.

Russell sat cross-legged beside the floor-to-ceiling window. The Phoenix Force he held in check slowly unfurled around him, its scorching crimson energy threaded with golden light. Strand by strand, it wound around his body and began to align and merge with the Vishanti runes on the pages.

Eyes closed, he immersed himself in working out the behavior of magic's fundamental particles. He knew exactly what kind