Chapter 11: Nidavellir

A portal shimmered into existence behind the Ancient One, and Wanda staggered out, her body marked with fresh injuries. She collapsed onto the floor, breathing heavily.

"Who did you fight?" the Ancient One asked, immediately kneeling beside her, her hands already working to heal Wanda's wounds.

"I don't know—some super strong man with laser eyes," Wanda replied, wincing as the healing process began.

The Ancient One paused, her eyes narrowing in recognition. "Did he wear an intricate suit of armor?"

Wanda nodded. "Yes, he did. Do you know who he is?"

"You fought an Eternal," the Ancient One said, a note of surprise in her voice. "And it seems you held your own. You continue to astonish me, Wanda. You've already surpassed most of the Masters here. You've exceeded my expectations."

Wanda shook her head, her tone modest. "I didn't beat him—I just trapped him in the Mirror Dimension. He was faster than I expected… even faster than Pietro."

"Don't diminish your achievements, Wanda," the Ancient One gently admonished.

She knew that if Pietro heard this, he might be irked. He'd been training relentlessly, though she wasn't fully aware of the limits of his speed. The Ancient One considered whether to release Ikaris or leave him confined in the Mirror Dimension. After a moment of reflection, she decided to keep him there for now.

"With that, you're fully healed," the Ancient One said, completing her work.

Wanda exhaled deeply, feeling the relief wash over her. "How has Pietro been doing lately?" she asked, concerned. She'd been too busy hunting down Deviants and Hydra agents to check in on him.

"He's taking a break from Mystic Arts," the Ancient One replied.

"Really?" Wanda was surprised. Pietro was usually so dedicated, almost obsessed, with mastering magic.

"Perhaps in this time away, he'll find the breakthrough he's been searching for," the Ancient One said, her tone thoughtful.

"I hope so," Wanda murmured.

Meanwhile, Pietro was meticulously inscribing a spell across his entire body, each stroke precise and deliberate. This was no ordinary incantation; it was a spell of his own creation, designed to restrain his movements and increase the weight of his body. It was a complex and demanding spell, one he had been contemplating for some time but only now felt ready to attempt, especially after his connection with Bast.

Standing at the gates of Kamar-Taj, Pietro took a deep breath, settling into a running stance. Every muscle in his body tensed in anticipation. With a burst of energy, he launched himself forward, sprinting toward the green plains. But unlike his usual lightning-fast speed, he moved slowly, the weight of the spell dragging him down, each step feeling like it was through molasses.

Yet, Pietro pushed on. His unique physiology meant he could run indefinitely without tiring, but this time, the strain was different. The soreness in his muscles was acute, a burning reminder that despite his endurance, overexertion had its own costs.

Every muscle in his body worked overtime, but Pietro was determined. He knew that mastering magic didn't mean neglecting his other abilities. Speed and strength still mattered, perhaps now more than ever.

After several kilometers, the pain in his muscles became unbearable, and he collapsed onto the ground, gasping, "Break."

The inscriptions on his skin faded, and with them, the oppressive weight vanished. He felt almost weightless, like a feather, but the deep ache in his muscles reminded him of the toll the spell had taken.

"Yay, I've found a better way to train my speed," Pietro muttered to himself, satisfaction tinged with exhaustion. "And tomorrow, I can go meet the dwarf."

He lay there for a moment longer, letting his body recover, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He was getting stronger, in every way that mattered.

"I hate this. There are so many spells I want to test out," Pietro muttered to himself, frustration simmering beneath the surface.

The next day, his body ached with a deep soreness that even his accelerated healing couldn't fully erase. But despite the discomfort, he knew it had been worth it. Determined, he conjured a portal to Nidavellir, only to be met with a sight that stopped him cold.

The realm was desolate, eerily silent, and devoid of life. His heart sank.

"Too late… again," Pietro whispered, guilt gnawing at him. "Not again. Damn it!" In a fit of anger, he punched a nearby wall—an Uru metal wall. The impact shattered the bones in his hand, and blood trickled down his knuckles, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the frustration and self-loathing that churned inside him.

'Why do I always fail like this?' he thought bitterly.

He wandered through the empty forges, his eyes catching the unfinished frame of the gauntlet. *If only I were faster…*

His brooding was interrupted when he spotted a massive dwarf sitting alone in the cold, dimly lit space. The dwarf eyed Pietro warily, his fists, wrapped in heavy metal, clenched and ready for a fight.

"I mean no harm," Pietro said, raising his uninjured hand in a gesture of peace, noticing the Uru metal encasing the dwarf's fists. "I'm a sorcerer from Earth."

The dwarf's eyes widened in surprise. "A sorcerer?"

"I'm sorry I'm late," Pietro said, his voice tinged with regret. "I came here to learn blacksmithing, but seeing this… I failed you all." The guilt weighed heavily on him, thinking that if he'd mastered the Sling Ring sooner, he might have been able to save the dwarves.

The dwarf grunted, his voice a low rumble. "Sorcerer, take me to Asgard."

"I can't—not yet. I need to heal my hand first. It'll take about 30 minutes," Pietro said, showing his bleeding hand. "I'm Pietro Maximoff, by the way."

"Eitri, King of the Dwarves," the dwarf introduced himself, his tone softened slightly by Pietro's genuine remorse.

"Thanos came here, didn't he?" Pietro asked, though he already knew the answer.

"He did," Eitri replied, his voice heavy with the weight of the memory.

Pietro stepped closer, his eyes fixed on the metal binding Eitri's hands. "I think I can free your hands from that metal."

Eitri looked at him skeptically. "This is Uru. How could you possibly help me?"

"Trust me," Pietro said, his voice steady and sincere.

With little to lose, Eitri extended his fists toward Pietro. Pietro placed his left hand on Eitri's right hand and began to vibrate his molecules at a frequency that allowed the metal to phase through the dwarf's skin.

"Now, pull your hand out," Pietro instructed.

Eitri did as he was told, and to his astonishment, the Uru casing fell away, clattering to the floor. He stared at his free hand in disbelief.

"How did you do that? You phased through Uru… Are you the Sorcerer Supreme?" Eitri asked, still reeling from what had just happened.

"I wish," Pietro replied with a wry smile as he began working on Eitri's other hand. "But no, I'm still just an apprentice."

Once both hands were freed, Eitri flexed his fingers, a look of deep gratitude on his face. "Thank you, sorcerer."

"You're welcome," Pietro said quietly, humbled by the encounter. He knew that he had a long way to go, but moments like this reminded him of why he kept pushing forward.

Pietro sat down, cradling his injured hand as he waited for it to heal. The pain was sharp, but he had grown used to such discomforts. His mind wandered as he observed the vast, empty space around him.

Eitri studied him for a moment before breaking the silence. "Why would a sorcerer want to learn blacksmithing?" he asked, his deep voice tinged with curiosity.

Pietro looked up, meeting the dwarf's gaze. "I have a metal called Vibranium, and I've been trying to figure out how to melt it down and forge it into a gladius," he explained.

Eitri nodded, recognizing the metal's name. "Vibranium is no ordinary material. It's a challenge even for seasoned smiths," he said. "Once we've taken care of everything, I'll teach you the craft."

"Thank you," Pietro replied, a hint of relief in his voice.

Eitri still looked puzzled. "But if you're just an apprentice, how did you even know about Nidavellir? Most sorcerers wouldn't have the knowledge to find this place, even if they read about it."

"I can see the future," he answered.

Eitri's expression softened as understanding dawned on him. The guilt Pietro carried made more sense now, the weight of foresight heavier than most could imagine.

After a few more minutes, Pietro's hand finally healed. Flexing his fingers to ensure they were fully functional, he stood up and began to create a larger portal, one big enough for both him and Eitri to step through. As the swirling energy stabilized, they stepped into it together, emerging on the other side onto the Rainbow Bridge of Asgard.

Pietro's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight before him. The brilliance of the bridge, shimmering with all the colors of the spectrum, and the grandeur of Asgard itself—it was unlike anything he had ever seen. For a moment, he simply stood there, his eyes wide with awe, absorbing the beauty and majesty of the realm.