The Ancient One did not sense any trace of Crimson Power in Russell.
But perhaps he is well hidden, or perhaps the one behind him is older, more powerful, and more secretive Cyttorak.
In an instant, the Ancient One's brain automatically constructed a complete "Russell backstory".
A pawn chosen by a Multiverse- level being, or an avatar of a Multiverse- level being.
She looked at Russell, and there was something new in her eyes—not wariness, not hostility, but a feeling that was almost... respect.
Russell was unaware of the crazy speculations running through the Ancient One's mind.
If he knew, he would at most tell her, "You have a good eye for people."
After all, when you're out in the world, you give yourself your own identity.
In reality, there is no Celestials, no Cyttorak, only a system, a control panel, and a Soul Stone that has traveled from another universe and knows everything about the major events in this world.
But he won't say it.
He picked up his teacup and took another sip.
"We're all riddle solvers," he muttered to himself, "You solve the first day, I'll solve the fifteenth."
"Crimson Overlord Cyttorak"
At the same time, Russell silently memorized the name, searching his memory for the Juggernaut.
Professor X's nominal younger brother, the man who wore an ugly helmet, rampaged across the battlefield, and seemed to have no weaknesses.
His power comes from the Crimson Gem of Cyttorak of Cyttorak.
In this world, has Juggernaut already obtained that gem? Is it even possible? In any case, it's a direction worth considering.
Looking at Russell, who remained silent, Ancient One felt that she had guessed correctly.
But she didn't press the matter; that wasn't her style.
Everyone has their own secrets, just like she never told anyone.
She had used the Time Stone to foresee her fate, knowing that Kaecilius would betray her, that he would fall into Dormammu's arms, and that she would die on that day, in that place, and in that way.
She knew all of this, but she didn't change.
Fate is a river; you can't change the course of the whole river just because there's a reef downstream.
Of course, death can also be another form of rebirth.
With a gentle wave of her hand, Ancient One caused the Mirror Dimension to fold, shrink, and disappear like a crumpled piece of paper.
The kaleidoscopic images receded like the tide, revealing the reality beneath.
East -style house, mahogany furniture, porcelain, tea sets, and a real starry sky outside the window, a sky that doesn't belong to any mirror image.
All the dreamlike scenes vanished, like the morning mist being dispersed by the sunlight.
Suddenly there was a knock on the door.
"Sorcerer Supreme." Baron Mordo's voice came from outside the door, carrying a calm, disciplined tranquility.
"I've found out what's going on with the kids who've recently disappeared from the streets of New York... It's the evil god behind the Hand tricks."
"Come in and talk." The Ancient One's voice regained its usual calm and composure, as if the woman who had just opened her mouth wide in the Mirror Dimension had never existed.
Mordo pushed open the door and stepped into the room.
His gaze first fell on the Ancient One, his most respected teacher, the great Sorcerer Supreme, the guardian of Kamar-Taj, and the most important mentor in his life.
Then his gaze shifted and landed on the person opposite the Ancient One.
Black hair, blue eyes, that familiar face.
Mordo's mind went blank for a moment.
Like a fuse blown by an excessive current, a flash of white light, and then nothing.
He recognized the face; it was the madman who, along with Phoenix, had utterly thrashed the X-Men and destroyed the Statue of Statue of Liberty in front of the entire world.
Finally, they even declared war on a country and wanted to hold a world-class competition at the White House.
He was sitting opposite the Sorcerer Supreme, like a friend invited over for tea.
Mordo's expression changed drastically. Anger surged from his chest, like magma overflowing from a crack in the Planetary Crust's crust, burning his entire face red.
He stepped forward, pointed at Russell, and his voice carried a barely suppressed anger.
"Russell." He enunciated each word heavily, as if squeezing them out from between his teeth.
"The mess you made in New York almost triggered Dimension Demons madness. If the Sorcerer Supreme hadn't intervened, you would have been dead long ago."
"How dare you sit with the teacher now?"
Russell turned his head and looked at Mordo.
His eyes were blue, the same blue as Dr. Manhattan's, and when that cold gaze fell on Mordo felt something being compressed in his chest.
His Soul Stone felt as if it were being devoured; his breath caught for half a second, his heart skipped a beat, and his pupils shrank to the size of pinpoints in that instant.
Fear spread through my body.
It's not the kind of fear that arises from "the opponent being very strong" and can be suppressed by reason; it's the kind of fear that's ingrained in our Genes, inherited from the reptilian era, an instinctive fear when facing a natural enemy.
His feet seemed nailed to the ground, and his finger was still pointing at Russell, but his fingertips were trembling.
"Mordo." The Ancient One's gentle voice sounded, like a hand gently pressing on Mordo's shoulder, pulling him out of that sea of fear.
"Don't speak so rudely. Mr. Russell is my guest."
Beads of sweat trickled down Mordo's forehead. Not from the heat, but from the half-second of fear that had instantly overloaded his sympathetic nervous system, causing sweat to gush from his pores.
He lowered his head and used all his strength to pull his fingers back, letting them hang down at his sides.
"Yes, teacher." His voice was slightly unsteady, like someone waking up from a nightmare and needing a few seconds to confirm that they were back in reality.
He was thinking about something, something he didn't want to think about, dared not think about, but had to think about at that moment.
Why was the Sorcerer Supreme sitting with a Mutants? Why did he use the word "invite" to a "criminal"?
Mordo had followed the Ancient One for many years and had never seen her show that kind of expression to anyone.
That expression seemed to say, "I admire him very much."
Has Strange been dropped, Russell become the next candidate for Sorcerer Supreme?
This absurd idea surfaced in his mind like a fish emerging from deep water, breaking the surface and blowing a bubble.
Mordo shook his head vigorously, banishing the terrible thought.
No, it won't.
That's impossible.
The Master holds a supreme position in Kamar-Taj; she would not give a Mutants any special treatment, much less make him the Sorcerer Supreme.
This was just his routine contact with a potential threat, nothing more.
Mordo breathed a sigh of relief.
Russell didn't say anything to Mordo from beginning to end.
A few words wouldn't make him angry; he's always been good at winning people over with kindness.
Like in a certain TV series, someone who is not combative in life is best at resolving conflicts.
Besides, what he hates most is explaining himself.
Explaining is one of the most time-consuming things, second only to waiting at a red light and being misunderstood.
He simply felt that the Ancient One possessed an exceptionally strong mentality.
How long has it been since her last chief disciple Kaecilius, betrayed her and sided with Dormammu? The wound hasn't even healed, and she's already grooming her next chief disciple who is highly likely to betray her.
This is either due to his audacity, or... some kind of conspiracy he cannot comprehend.
The Ancient One's biggest conspiracy was to use loans to pay off other loans, and then fake her death to escape.
In the MCU Universe, the Sorcerer Supreme was killed by his disciple, and most people say it was because the special effects were too expensive.
But this isn't a movie; he's more inclined to believe that Ancient One abandoned his physical body and entered the spirit world.
Russell didn't care about these things; that was the fate of the Ancient One, not his.
"Ancient One," he put down his teacup, his voice as calm as if he were talking about something trivial.
"Thank you for the matter concerning the Dimension Demons."
He spoke briefly, without embellishment or exaggeration. It wasn't because he was stingy with his thanks, but because he felt that gratitude shouldn't be packaged in flowery language.
The more sincere the gratitude, the simpler it is.
Whether the Ancient One acted out of a sense of duty to protect Earth or genuinely helped him, a simple "thank you" is the right thing to do.
He was clear about his gratitude and grievances; that was one of his life's principles.
He remembers those who are good to him, and he also remembers those who are bad to him, just in different ways.
Mordo stood to the side, and when he heard Russell call out "The Ancient One," his anger flared up again.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but because of what had just happened, he couldn't say anything.
The Ancient One noticed Mordo's silence, but she said nothing.
Her gaze fell on Russell, growing increasingly satisfied. Not the kind of satisfaction that comes from "this person is really obedient," but the kind that comes from "I didn't misjudge him."
A person who knows how to be grateful, who knows how to distinguish between gratitude and resentment, and who knows how to maintain basic moral principles even after gaining power.
Such a person will not become a second Dormammu, a second Kaecilius, or any being that needs to be "cleaned up".
"You're too kind. Protecting Earth and driving out Dimension Demons is simply my duty."
She paused, gave Russell a deep look, and then said something tentative.
"Aren't you really going to reconsider becoming the next Sorcerer Supreme? Perhaps you can gain the favor of Vishanti."
Before Russell could even speak, Mordo's mind had already exploded.
Is he deaf?
He rubbed his ears; his eardrums were fine.
Am I dreaming?
He pinched his thigh; it really hurt.
All right.
He closed his eyes, then opened them again. Ancient One was still sitting there, Russell was still sitting there, the room was still the same room, nothing had changed.
Then he started to question the meaning of life.
The Sorcerer Supreme, the guardian of Kamar-Taj, wants to pass the position of Sorcerer Supreme to a Mutants?
To pass it on to a "criminal" who caused Dimension fluctuations in New York?
Mordo's worldview is like a piece of glass struck by a hammer, with cracks spreading outwards from the center.
Those cracks revealed something he didn't want to see. He had been practicing asceticism in Kamar-Taj for many years, strictly adhering to the precepts, meditating daily, and never slacking off.
He even thought he was the most likely candidate to become the next Sorcerer Supreme.
Now he realized that in Ancient One's eyes, he might just be a "more suitable supporting character."
What devastated him most was that this Mutants seemed to have rejected the position.
Mordo averted his gaze from Russell, imagining the scene of his teacher extending an olive branch.
The moment Russell said "no," he seemed to hear the sound of every Mage in the world breaking their hearts at the same time.
The sound was like ice cracking, like porcelain shattering, like a hand slowly clenching a heart inside the chest.
He looked at Russell's lips, waiting for the man's answer.
He didn't know whether he wanted the answer to be "yes" or "no".
Yes—he will be angry.
No -- he'll be even angrier.
This is a multiple-choice question with no correct answer.
"No, thank you." Russell shook his head, his tone as flat as if he were saying, "The weather is nice today."
"I have my own path."
His path is not the path of the Sorcerer Supreme, not the path of Vishanti, not the path of any known mystical or power system.
The favor of Vishanti? It doesn't matter.
The position of the Sorcerer Supreme? It doesn't matter.
The millennia-old heritage of Kamar-Taj? It doesn't matter.
What he wanted was power, freedom, and the right to live in this world without any constraints.
Everything else is an added bonus, a trial to become stronger.
For some reason, Mordo heard Russell refuse to become the next Sorcerer Supreme.
The feeling of relief was so intense that he himself felt a little inferior.
What these people, the Mage of Kamar-Taj, have spent their entire lives pursuing, this Mutants actually disdains.
If he were to tell the others at Kamar-Taj that Russell had refused to become the next Sorcerer Supreme, those Mages would probably line up to challenge Russell to a duel.
It wasn't about fighting for that position; it was about upholding their dignity. How could someone else not want something they couldn't even get close to?
Mordo glanced at Russell's arm, then recalled that blue, Soul Stone- chilling gaze from earlier.
Then he mentally simulated the scene of those Mage lining up to duel Russell, probably corpses lined up all the way from the Sanctum Sanctorum to the gates of Kamar-Taj.
Mordo felt a chill run down his spine.
He looked away, not daring to look at Russell again.
Upon hearing Russell's reply, Ancient One sighed softly.
"Alright." The Ancient One didn't press the matter. "It seems that Kamar-Taj's fate was predetermined."
Her gaze shifted from Russell to Mordo.
This disciple stood to the side, his brow furrowed, his heart churning with turmoil.
She could sense his emotional fluctuations, and after sighing inwardly, she spoke in a gentle, spring-like tone.
"Mordo, stay true to yourself, believe in your choices, and don't be too attached to illusions."
Those words were like a warm hand, reaching into the turbulent vortex of emotions in Mordo's chest and gently grasping it.
The whirlpool dissipated, the waves subsided, and the water surface returned to its mirror-like calm.
Mordo's brows relaxed, his shoulders eased, and his breathing became even.
He lowered his head and bowed respectfully.
"Yes. Thank you for your guidance, teacher."
Ancient One gently shook her head.
Mordo was too fixated on her image, on the dignity of the Sorcerer Supreme, and on the legacy of Kamar-Taj.
He thought too highly of her, so highly that sometimes she felt she didn't deserve his respect.
He thought the position of the Sorcerer Supreme was too sacred, so sacred that the day he himself sat on it, he would surely be crushed by its weight.
Russell, holding his teacup, watched all of this.
He could sense the emotions emanating from Mordo —awe, jealousy, confusion, and self-doubt.
But it's not surprising that anyone who has been trapped in a certain "Faith pattern" for a long time will have a similar psychological reaction when cracks appear in their Faith.
The difference is that some people, like Kaecilius, choose to stab the crack and cause the entire wall to collapse.
Some people, like Mordo now, choose to cover the cracks with tape and pretend nothing happened.