Chapter 10: Blessing & Eternals

Pietro sat on the edge of his bed, deep in thought, his brow furrowed in frustration.

"I still have no idea how to melt Vibranium," he muttered, scratching his head as the complexity of the task gnawed at him. "I'm not even sure it's possible."

Across the room, a jug of purple liquid—a distillation of the herb he'd stolen—sat on a table, its contents shimmering faintly. Nearby, another herb rested in a pot, waiting to take root in its new home.

Deciding to clear his mind, Pietro dropped to the floor, launching into a rigorous training routine. One-handed push-ups, crunches, one-leg squats—he moved with precision, sweat gathering on his brow as he shadow-boxed the air. Each punch was a release, each motion a step closer to clarity.

Then, as if struck by lightning, an idea flashed through his mind. He paused mid-squat, the answer suddenly clear. "Wait... the dwarves," he said to himself. "They might be able to help me."

For two hours, he pushed his body to the limit, driving away the frustration that had clouded his thoughts. Finally, exhausted but invigorated, he reached for the jug of purple liquid.

As he drank, a wave of energy surged through him, his veins glowing with a violet hue. He quickly lay down on the floor, closing his eyes as the world around him began to fade.

---

In a vision, a teenager sat beside his father, fear etched into his young face.

"Why are you afraid? You did what you deserved," the father said gently.

The boy remained silent, his eyes downcast.

"Remember this, son," the father continued, his voice soft yet firm. "No matter how annoying your siblings may be, they're still your family. They're the only siblings you have."

The boy nodded, though uncertainty still lingered in his eyes.

"Look at me, son," the father said, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I won't always be here. So, please, protect them. Act mature. You're their only pillar when I'm gone."

"Don't say that, Dad. You're going to stay alive," the boy pleaded.

"Everyone dies, son. It's the end of our journey," the father replied, gazing up at the sky. "I was once as rowdy as you are now, but I don't want you to regret anything in life. Be strong. Be kind. Be loving. Never be cowardly. And live up to your name."

The father looked back at his son and smiled, a bittersweet expression that carried the weight of a lifetime's wisdom.

---

Pietro's eyes fluttered open, the remnants of a vivid vision still clinging to his mind. He found himself in a different realm, one bathed in starlight and silence. But something loomed behind him, a presence so vast it seemed to warp the very space around him.

He turned slowly, his heart hammering in his chest, and came face to face with a massive panther with eyes that glowed like blue lava flame. The sight of Bast, the Wakandan goddess, stole his breath. His thoughts scrambled to make sense of this impossible encounter.

"The man out of this world," Bast's voice resonated through the void, each word a command that reverberated in Pietro's bones. "Lie to me, and I will devour you. What do you plan to do with my power, Pietro Maximoff?"

Her question sliced through his confusion. Pietro, fighting to keep his composure, answered, "To protect my sister and save the world."

Bast studied him, her gaze as unyielding as stone, as if peeling back the layers of his soul. A chill skittered down Pietro's spine. Every instinct urged him to flee, but his soldier's discipline kept him rooted. He would not show fear—not now, not to her.

After what felt like an eternity, Bast spoke again, her words heavy with the weight of eons. "Normally, I would not allow an intruder to wield my power. But you are different. You may use my power as a sorcerer."

Pietro blinked, stunned by her decree. This wasn't what he had expected—he never imagined the goddess would so willingly grant him her strength. "Thank you," he breathed, his voice barely a whisper.

Bast lowered her forehead to his, and in that moment, a connection was forged. Pietro could feel it, a deep, primal link that bound him to the goddess. He hesitated, then asked, "Why are you giving your power so easily?"

"It is not time for you to know," Bast replied, her voice carrying an air of finality.

Without another word, she sent him back. When Pietro awoke, he sat up abruptly, shocked to find himself alive. "I survived," he murmured in disbelief.

A wave of relief washed over him. "Everything is going according to plan, but... why didn't I remember she might appear?"

He covered his face with his hands, then extended one, tentatively conjuring a shield. It worked, but instead of the usual glowing orange, the shield shimmered with black, accented by a purple tint, and within the dark hue, stars twinkled.

"Well, it works," Pietro muttered to himself. "Now I don't have to worry about being unable to unleash powerful spells."

He headed to the bathroom, needing to wash away the wild events of the day. Afterward, he donned his sorcerer's robes, a small smile tugging at his lips. He had worked hard for this, and now, finally, he could wield the Mystic Arts to their fullest extent.

Pietro decided it was time to share his progress with Master Mordo. He found him in the training hall, instructing a group of apprentices. As soon as Mordo spotted Pietro, he paused.

"Everyone, continue practicing on your own. I need to speak with your senior," Mordo said, dismissing the group. The apprentices bowed respectfully before leaving the area.

Pietro approached with a respectful nod. "How are you, Master?"

"I'm well, Pietro," Mordo replied, his eyes narrowing as he sensed a change in his pupil. "It seems you've had a breakthrough."

A smile spread across Pietro's face. "Yes, Master. I've learned to harness power from another dimension."

Mordo's expression softened into one of approval. "Congratulations, Pietro. If that's the case, it seems you're ready to continue on your own."

There was no need for Mordo to probe further; he knew well enough the danger Pietro posed, even without fully mastering the Mystic Arts. Now, with his newfound ability, Pietro's casting speed would be even more formidable. Mordo trusted his disciple implicitly—he had no doubt that Pietro was telling the truth.

"Thank you, Master Mordo. I won't forget everything you've taught me," Pietro said sincerely.

As Pietro turned to leave, Mordo watched him with a proud smile, knowing his disciple was well on his way to becoming a true sorcerer.

"Alright, everyone," Mordo called out, resuming his lesson with the remaining apprentices.

On the other side of the Earth, in the frozen wilderness of Alaska, two powerful beings clashed, their energies sending shockwaves across the icy landscape. Wanda Maximoff faced off against a man in a sleek, blue high-tech suit—none other than Ikaris, one of the Eternals.

"You're a dangerous being," Ikaris warned, his voice tinged with caution. He knew well the power of Chaos Magic, one of the most perilous forces in existence.

Wanda's eyes narrowed. "What's your problem?" she demanded, her voice edged with frustration. This man had attacked her out of nowhere, just as she had finished dealing with the Deviants she'd tracked down.

Without warning, Ikaris' eyes flared yellow, unleashing a searing beam of energy. The blast struck Wanda's protective aura, nearly piercing through. In response, she conjured a barrier and began to charge a blast in her right hand.

Ikaris ceased his eye beams and lunged toward her, closing the distance with terrifying speed. But as he neared, Wanda unleashed a concentrated beam of energy, forcing Ikaris to veer sharply, narrowly avoiding annihilation.

In a flash, Ikaris countered with a powerful punch, sending Wanda hurtling to the ground. Her barrier absorbed some of the impact, but the force was still enough to crack the earth beneath her. She gasped, spitting out saliva as she hit the ground hard.

Ikaris prepared to strike again, but before he could, a web of glowing magical circles appeared around him, each inscribed with ancient symbols. From them shot ethereal whips of energy, lashing out at him. He dodged and weaved, trying to evade the onslaught, but one whip coiled around his wrist, tightening its grip.

Ikaris fired his eye lasers to cut through it, but the whip held firm. Resorting to brute strength, he shattered it, but more whips ensnared him, wrapping around his limbs, binding him in place.

Wanda ascended into the sky, her power surging as she tightened the magical restraints. But Ikaris, refusing to be contained, unleashed a surge of energy that shattered the whips. He flew at her with renewed fury, oblivious to the trap she had set.

In his rage, he didn't see the portal to the Mirror Dimension until it was too late. He plunged through it, vanishing into another realm entirely.

Wanda hovered in the air, her breath heavy with exhaustion. "I nearly lost," she murmured to herself, the weight of the battle settling in her bones.