Skyl spent his days in Kamar-Taj's library.
Wherever he went, he made a point of collecting the local magical theories.
Marvel's magic system wasn't especially novel to him. Power was borrowed from extradimensional beings, and spell knowledge could be obtained from those beings as well—almost like a blend of cleric-style patronage and warlock-style deals.
Stick with the right heavyweight and you'll live like a king. Follow someone with bad intentions and you'll be stuck chewing stale crackers—if you don't get swallowed whole, skin and bones included. In short: it was all about social calculus.
As the Sorcerer Supreme, the Ancient One practiced the orthodox path by drawing on the Vishanti—a trinity of higher powers. When she went off the straight-and-narrow, she forcibly siphoned power from Dormammu, the ruler of the Dark Dimension.
Ever since Skyl had introduced her to Eternity, the Ancient One announced she was going into retreat. Anyone who didn't know better would assume she was locking herself away for scholarship.
In reality, she was building rapport with her new boss.
Tony was training at Kamar-Taj under the guidance of two of the Ancient One's disciples: Baron Mordo and Kaecilius.
At first, his results were… not great. Whether it was hand-to-hand drills or spellcasting, he couldn't even get a foot in the door.
Tony's health was still a mess. The shrapnel in his body hadn't been removed; if the electromagnet in his chest reactor wasn't holding it in place, he would've been dead already. The hole in his chest made a lot of movements awkward or outright impossible. He blamed his body for dragging him down—then discovered that even an old man missing a hand could beat him in a spar.
What really stung was realizing his fighting ability was the worst in the entire place. And he'd actually trained in mixed martial arts. It made him mutter more than once: was this a magic school or a fight club?
The only thing that didn't make him miserable was theory.
Tony was, annoyingly, a genuine prodigy in that department—photographic memory and all. Kamar-Taj's library was open and didn't restrict what disciples could read, but the librarian would stop mages from touching books that were clearly beyond their current level.
So when he got frustrated, Tony poured his time into reading—an oddly perfect mirror to Skyl, who practically lived in the library.
Tony asked Skyl when he planned to leave.
Skyl said, "When I'm done reading, I'll go."
"Man… do I really just not have the talent?" Tony looked genuinely down. "When you leave, take me with you. Magic isn't for me."
"You just haven't found the right method," Skyl said evenly. "What do you think matters most in learning magic?"
"No idea. Talent, I guess? Or hard work." Tony flopped onto the desk, face blank, fully giving up on posture.
"You've seen a god," Skyl said. "How much talent and hard work could ever let you stand shoulder-to-shoulder with that?"
"I'd have to be out of my mind to want to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with a god." Tony rolled his eyes. "If you want to be a god, you'd better start by having a god for a father—like Zeus's kids. Born demigods."
The moment Skyl heard "Zeus," a dumb reaction image popped into his head—something like: Zeus, you are absolutely not invited to the afterparty. It amused him enough that he actually laughed.
Tony took that as agreement and pressed on. "See? That's why I figured it out. All this chakra stuff, all this 'mental power' talk—it's not my thing. I should just go back to being a billionaire."
"So you do understand," Skyl said, calm as ever, "that what matters isn't talent or effort. It's connections. If your connections are strong enough, you can borrow endless magic, even bargain your way into immortality. And if you're strong enough, you can take it by force."
"Where am I supposed to find connections like that?"
"You don't need to find them," Skyl said, flicking Tony a glance. "You already have them."
He offered no further explanation.
That night Tony couldn't sleep no matter what he did. He cracked open a spellbook and stared at it until his eyes burned. Every page seemed to scream the same words at him: discipline, perseverance, practice.
But after squinting at it for ages, he finally read what was hiding between the lines.
It wasn't discipline at all.
It was who you know.
I get it now, Master.
Tony sat up and tried to meditate. His mind was a mess—worrying about the outside world, worrying about Pepper Potts, worrying about Yinsen, the friend who had died to save him. The thoughts tangled around him like a web.
He remembered what the sorcerers had told him. He let the emotions run free without fighting them, and slowly, the thoughts grew lazy and dull, like they were sinking into warm water. His mind settled, smooth and quiet as a still lake.
He felt himself floating.
Everything turned black.
Then, one by one, ancient stars lit up overhead.
Tony recognized that breathtaking sky.
This was his second visit.
"Tony." A voice called from behind him.
He turned and saw the Ancient One, wrapped in a bright saffron robe. She looked like she'd been standing there for a long time.
"Hi," Tony said, surprised. "Didn't expect to run into someone I actually know here."
"When you wander the extradimensional realms, you're often not alone," the Ancient One said, smiling in satisfaction. "You have great talent. Very few sorcerers can reach this place."
"I have no idea how I got here," Tony admitted. "I just couldn't sleep, so I tried meditating."
That was when he noticed a solemn sigil glowing at the Ancient One's brow—proof of a pact with an extradimensional being.
"It invited you," the Ancient One said, her gaze sliding past Tony.
Tony whipped around.
Eternity stood behind him—the same presence he'd met before.
"Uh… hi?" Tony said, forcing himself to sound a little more flattering than he felt. "Sir. You remember me?"
He tried. He really did. But it wasn't in him. After a brief internal struggle, he ended up standing in front of the god with plain, stubborn human dignity.
Eternity dipped its head slightly.
Tony understood. This was what Skyl meant by connections. Being remembered by someone like this—by something like this—felt incredible.
And for the first time in his life as a "big shot," Tony suddenly, sharply understood what the small-time people who came begging favors from him must have felt: that mix of terror and exhilaration, heart pounding so hard it could bruise.
"I seek the mysteries," Tony said, his voice shaking despite himself. "Please teach me the wisdom of magic."
Eternity raised a hand.
Tony watched that all-encompassing palm reach toward him and, for a heartbeat, pure instinct screamed at him to run. Any flicker inside Eternity's body felt like the birth and death of entire parallel multiverses—an endless, crushing philosophy of time and existence contained within the slightest motion of a finger.
He thought of how Skyl had once shaken hands with this being.
How did that outsider bear it?
Eternity's fingertip touched the center of Tony's brow.
Tony's mind dropped into a vast oceanic abyss. His thoughts swept across innumerable planes of the universe—yet it was like the world's tides washing over a single seashell, leaving behind only a shallow puddle when the water withdrew. Everything a mortal couldn't possibly hold slipped away with the retreating tide.
He began to fall.
And fell until his spirit slammed back into his body, jolting him awake from meditation.
Dawn had barely arrived. Pale light seeped through the window lattice, a thin blade of brightness cutting across his eyes. Tony looked around his silent room, feeling like he'd returned from another lifetime.
From that day on, Tony learned fast.
The god's enlightenment was like that puddle trapped in the shell—evaporating quickly the moment he returned to the real world. But while it lasted, anything he studied clicked instantly.
He refused to waste a second. He wished he could turn a day into forty-eight hours. Other than eating and sleeping, he did nothing but read and practice, shutting everything else out with ruthless focus.
By the time the "puddle" was gone, Tony had already mastered a variety of secret arts—enough to count as a competent spellcaster. And when it came to crafting magical implements, he advanced at a frightening pace. Maybe it was his engineering background, but his progress was so rapid he could nearly rival seasoned masters.
Half a month passed in a blink.
Skyl said his goodbyes to Kamar-Taj. Tony, unwilling to be left behind, decided he was going back to the civilized world too.
"Mr. Skyl—come back to New York with me," Tony said, already slipping back into the comfortable swagger of a man who was born to host. "Let me treat you properly."
Skyl didn't refuse, but he warned him, "You haven't contacted your company in a long time. Everyone thinks you're dead."
Tony complained, "How was I supposed to contact them from a place like Kamar-Taj?"
"Kamar-Taj has phones," Skyl said. "And Wi-Fi."
Tony froze.
"…What?"
"And not only that," Skyl added, "Kamar-Taj has a portal that goes straight to New York. Between lessons, you could've dropped in whenever you wanted."
"Why didn't anyone tell me?!" Tony exploded.
"You decided it was the middle of nowhere," Skyl said with a small shake of his head. "And lately you haven't talked to anyone. Even if people tried to tell you, you wouldn't have listened."
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