After Asgard crashed, Deathstroke placed it at the northernmost tip of Alaska and had the Mages of Kamar-Taj cast spells to conceal it.
The Arctic was in polar night in November. The snow on the ground glimmered in different colors beneath the aurora, while the distant mountains resembled rainbow walls separating the mortal world. Glaciers stretched southward, occasionally letting out tremendous rumbling sounds.
Near the Arctic Ocean stood a tiny ice hut. A middle-aged man was tidying the room inside, a greatsword propped beside the door and a cigarette dangling from his mouth as he carried things back and forth from outside into the hut.
Su Ming descended slowly while holding Gin and greeted his disciple.
"Strange, what are you busy with?"
The curly-haired Mage gave a bitter smile, flicked ash to the side, then pulled out a bottle and took a swig. He rubbed his reddened nose in the frigid wind.
"Master, what are you doing here? Didn't we just come back from Sepulk? I don't know when the old hut collapsed. I just dug out the things that were buried and built a new house."
Deathstroke nodded and looked toward the ocean in the distance, which appeared entirely white due to the abundance of floating ice.
"Didn't I tell you that you could withdraw once you recovered anything valuable from Asgard? Everyone else has left. Why are you still here?"
Doctor Strange tugged at Cloak's collar and invited the two of them inside. There was a fire pit in the middle of the hut, with a small pot hanging over it and some food simmering to go with the drinks.
Su Ming took a brief look. It seemed to be braised hairtail fish.
Strange pulled out fur cushions, brought out his liquor to entertain his Master, and sat