Chapter 79 79: Homecoming Gifts
The golden sparks of the portal faded, leaving Ethan standing in the crisp, freezing air of the Himalayan mountains. He'd left Wong downstairs, still grumbling about his pastrami sandwich and ungrateful Sanctum Masters, and made his way straight to the Ancient One's private courtyard.
She was sitting in her usual spot, pouring tea with an agonizingly slow, serene precision. But the moment Ethan's boots hit the stone tiles, her hands paused.
She didn't look at his face. She looked at the space directly behind him.
"Your shadow has become heavier, Ethan," the Ancient One said, setting the porcelain teapot down. Her voice was calm, but her eyes were piercing, scanning the invisible metaphysical weight he now carried. "There is a deathly aura clinging to you. It is cold. Absolute."
Ethan smirked, though internally, he was sweating. Is there literally anything I can hide from this woman? He thought about the title he had received after collecting the Hallows—the [Master of Death] perk that granted him absolute resistance to soul-based attacks.
"I picked up a few souvenirs from the other side," Ethan said casually, taking a seat on the cushion opposite her. "Three artifacts, actually. The local legend in that world says they were handed out directly by Death itself."
The Ancient One's serene expression broke into one of genuine, scholarly intrigue. She leaned forward slightly.
"Fascinating," she murmured. "There is a physical manifestation of Death in that universe? And it enjoys handing out gifts?"
"Well, the Death in that universe apparently has a twisted sense of humor," Ethan shrugged. He reached into his dimensional pocket and pulled out a stack of heavy, leather-bound books he had 'reallocated' from Flourish and Blotts. He placed them on the low wooden table, followed by a few rare magical trinkets and a spinning silver Sneakoscope.
"I brought these for the library," Ethan said. "Thought you might want to see how the neighbors do things."
The Ancient One picked up a thick text on Advanced Transfiguration. She flipped through the heavy parchment pages, her eyes scanning the incantations and wand movement diagrams.
"They are not mages," she noted, a faint smile touching her lips. "They are wizards. They do not borrow energy or write Eldritch code. They use their intent and bloodline to physically bully reality into a new shape. A very blunt, yet incredibly effective system."
"It gets the job done," Ethan agreed, pouring himself a cup of tea.
The Ancient One set the book down, her gaze returning to him. The scholarly curiosity vanished, instantly replaced by the heavy, prophetic weight of the Sorcerer Supreme.
"And speaking of jobs," she said softly. "How do you intend to handle the trouble that has arrived at your gate? I warned you, Ethan. That girl is an anchor."
"You mean the guys running around Brooklyn in animal suits?" Ethan chuckled, taking a sip of his tea. "Don't worry about it, Boss. I'll take care of it. A guy in a rhino mech isn't exactly a cosmic threat."
"Do not underestimate them, Ethan," she warned, her tone sharpening. "The anomalies bleeding into New York are merely symptoms. The true threat lies in the shadows between worlds. They are predators capable of hunting Spider Totem holders across dimensions."
She looked out over the mist-covered peaks, her voice dropping into a solemn, philosophical cadence.
"The multiverse is held together by the Web of Life and Destiny. And among them, the fate of the Spiders is the most complex. Playing with the fate of Spiders is a dangerous game. If you carelessly pluck a string, you may find yourself trapped in that very Web."
Ethan set his teacup down with a sharp clack. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his golden eyes narrowing.
"Let them come," Ethan said, his voice cold and uncompromising. "If they want to hunt in my city, they're going to find out that magic doesn't play by the rules of their Web."
*****
After wrapping up the heavy cosmic talk, Ethan decided to take a quick victory lap around Kamar-Taj. He walked through the training courtyards, breathing in the familiar, sharp scent of incense and old parchment.
He spotted a group of female disciples practicing basic Tao Mandalas near the weapon racks. They were the same girls who used to 'accidentally' butcher their meditation chants whenever he did his shirtless push-up routine in the mornings.
"Ladies," Ethan called out, flashing a million-dollar grin. "Did you miss me?"
The disciples jumped, their glowing orange shields fizzling out entirely. A few of them blushed furiously, quickly bowing their heads to avoid staring at his designer clothes.
"Master Ethan!" one of them stammered, her eyes darting to his tailored leather jacket. "We... we didn't know you had returned to the mountain."
"Just a quick visit," Ethan winked, stepping closer. "Though I see your shield forms are still a little sloppy. If you need some private, hands-on instruction later, my portal is always open."
"You lack discipline," a booming, utterly humorless voice interrupted.
Ethan didn't even flinch. He slowly turned around to face Karl Mordo. The senior sorcerer was glaring at him with that same intensely severe, permanently scowling expression that looked like he was constantly chewing on a lemon.
"Mordo, my man," Ethan grinned. "Still allergic to fun, I see."
Mordo's grip on his wooden training staff tightened until his knuckles cracked. "You are the Master of the New York Sanctum now. You should act like it, rather than distracting the novices with your inappropriate behavior."
"I am acting like it," Ethan replied smoothly, dusting an imaginary speck of dirt off his shoulder. "In terms of seniority, I'm a Sanctum Master. You're just the guy who yells at kids in the courtyard. A little respect for your superiors, maybe?"
Mordo's face darkened, a prominent, angry vein throbbing near his temple. "Titles do not replace humility, Ethan."
"And scowling doesn't replace a personality," Ethan shot back, giving Mordo a lazy, two-finger salute. "Try to smile once a decade, Mordo. It won't kill you."
Before Mordo could swing his staff and start a courtyard brawl, Ethan spun his fingers. The golden sparks of a Sling Ring portal flared to life, revealing the mahogany-scented foyer of the New York Sanctum on the other side.
Ethan stepped through, leaving the fuming sorcerer behind in the snow. It was time to deal with the Spider problem.
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