Chapter 6: The British Museum

"So, when I get another ring, do I need to find a hobbit to keep me from putting it on too early?" Solomon asked.

"Yes, you'll need to wear all the rings at once to fully control the power of the Vishanti," the Ancient One nodded. "This experiment was to test whether you could handle the power of the Vishanti."

"So, I need someone who won't be muttering 'my precious' under their breath. I understand the allure," Solomon muttered, recalling the intense heat the ring emitted when he first came into contact with its magic. But where would he find someone untouched by magic?

Sensing Solomon's doubt, the Ancient One was quick to volunteer a candidate: "Wong hasn't signed a contract with the Vishanti yet. He's only learned Kamar-Taj's secret techniques and hasn't drawn directly from the Vishanti's power."

With that, Solomon and the Ancient One cheerfully settled on their "hobbit." After bidding his master farewell, Solomon returned to his room, feeling accomplished. He now had time to sift through the memories of one of the great archmages.

Before mastering the first two levels of spells from that archmage, Solomon wasn't planning on leaving Kamar-Taj again.

And yes, even the Child Welfare Agency wouldn't find him. Yes! Unplug the Wi-Fi, the magical world doesn't need the internet.

Well… temporarily.

Solomon had already formulated a plan: he would use the power of the Vishanti to fuel the spells of Toril or other magical worlds.

It's important to know that the magic supplied by the Weave is pure ether, or MANA, and as long as the structure of the spell was correct, any form of magic could be used.

Of course, because the power of the Vishanti was too radiant, necromancy spells would require his own magic to work.

However, things didn't go as planned. Just as Solomon was studying spells from the Toril universe, Baron Mordo came looking for him.

Mordo, a fellow disciple of the Ancient One, was always friendly toward Solomon. He often reminded Solomon, "I carried you when you were a baby," spouting such nonsense… Ah, now I know why I felt so uncomfortable back then, Solomon thought.

Mordo's reason for visiting was to train Solomon in the use of magical artifacts… Kamar-Taj's artifacts were quite different from those of other places.

For example, the Staff of the Living Tribunal… which actually had very little to do with the Living Tribunal. It was less a staff and more of a whip. Then there were the Boots of Valtorr, a magical item rather than a traditional artifact, whose biggest feature was allowing the user to double-jump. Not particularly impressive, but not entirely useless either, right? 

Even Devilman, with his super-sticky hands, couldn't pull off such a feat.

"You already know how to fight with your body, don't you?" Mordo grinned like a fox that had just stolen a chicken. "Now, you need to learn how to fight with weapons.

"We're not fairy-tale wizards waving around little wooden sticks."

"Uh… I don't think that's so bad, Senior Brother Mordo. Close combat seems good enough…" Solomon tried to worm his way out of the training, but Mordo was all too familiar with such slippery behavior.

He grabbed Solomon by the back of his collar, lifting him like a kitten and hauling him out.

"That's a misconception, Solomon," Mordo said gently. "Creatures from other dimensions won't give us time to chant our spells."

Solomon gave up resisting. He couldn't see Mordo's expression behind his darkened face, but he knew there was no escape.

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"So, the Ancient One sent you to retrieve an artifact, and I'm here as your hobbit?" Wong said, now somewhat "sturdier" than before.

Honestly, Solomon hadn't expected Wong to age so rapidly. Wong said, "Do I look like Frodo to you? I feel more like Sam."

"Well, you do have the build for it, my friend, but you're not much of a cook," Solomon quipped. "Besides, I need your fists."

"You've finally realized that fists are better than magic?" Wong said cheerfully. "You see, even though I haven't signed a contract with the Vishanti, I can still beat you in training."

"Ugh! That's only because you sneak in hits while I'm chanting!"

It was now 2007, and twelve-year-old Solomon had learned some spells from the Toril universe along with Kamar-Taj magic. He had already mastered the basics of fire conjuring.

The two of them passed through Kamar-Taj's portal to the London Sanctum and arrived in the city. It had just rained. The cobblestone streets were slick, but the rain had cleared the air, and the slight scent of ozone made it feel fresh.

While the air wasn't as crisp as in Kamar-Taj, it was much better than in other large cities. The only problem was that Solomon had stepped into a puddle, soaking his Kamar-Taj-issued shoes.

"Don't pull that face, Solomon. Mordo gave you British citizenship; you'll have to get used to this weather," Wong said with a hint of glee. "The Ancient One also seems to want you to attend a mundane school here, in Britain."

"Technically, that's for basic logical reasoning education. Most sorcerers who come to Kamar-Taj have already attended school in the mundane world," Solomon replied, shaking his head as he continued walking. His shoes squeaked with every step. "Math, physics, chemistry—the Ancient One says it's part of a well-rounded education."

"But I didn't have to attend any school."

"That's probably because you were born in Kamar-Taj. You don't even have health insurance. I'm sure once you gain magic, Kamar-Taj will provide you with an identity." Solomon held back part of the truth—the Ancient One had asked him to tell others he had signed a contract with the Vishanti.

No one would expect that Solomon was merely channeling the Vishanti's power without a formal pact—the Ancient One was an expert in this kind of loophole. She had done the same with Dormammu's power, but now she was using the trick on the Vishanti.

"Besides, this artifact requires someone not deeply connected to magic to wield it, to avoid any backlash," Solomon said, glancing at Wong.

Sure enough, Wong still felt a little bitter about not being able to sign a pact with the Vishanti.

"Don't worry," Solomon reassured Wong. "The Ancient One surely has a purpose in mind for you. Plus, you're already better than some of the guys who can use magic, aren't you?"

"You mean in terms of not needing to sleep?"

"Uh… yeah, that too."

"So, what's the plan?" Wong asked, somewhat annoyed.

"First, we go inside," Solomon said. As soon as they stepped into the British Museum, located near Russell Square on New Oxford Street, both felt something was off—the magical energy here was much stronger than elsewhere.

"Do you sense that?" Wong asked, his eyes darting around, though he couldn't pinpoint the source.

"Look over there," Solomon pointed toward some of the exhibits: a statue of Shiva, a wooden carving from the Nicobar Islands, a marble figure of the Yakshi goddess Ambika, friezes from the Parthenon, the head of Pharaoh Amenhotep III, and most importantly, ritual objects from various Earthly pantheons.

Although the Ancient One had warned Solomon about the lingering divine power in these relics, the sheer magnitude of it still caught him off guard.

"You're saying… we're going to rob the museum?" Wong whispered.

"No, no…" Solomon whispered back, just as tense, "It's the guardian here."

"Didn't you notice?" Solomon's eyes flicked to the side. "Those spirits?"

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