The meeting came to a quiet end, marked by silent nods, thoughtful looks, and a few exchanged glances. No one spoke much as they rose from their seats—each one still processing the weight of what John had revealed.
The idea of Star Academy hung in their minds like a rising sun—uncertain, but filled with promise.
As the others began heading toward the exit, John raised a hand.
"Thor. Ancient One. Stay back a moment. I need to speak with you both."
The group paused briefly, then continued toward the doors. Tony gave a knowing smirk. Clint scratched his head, and Wanda glanced over her shoulder, curiosity flickering in her eyes. Moments later, the room was nearly empty.
Before they could leave completely, John called out again.
"Wait—take this with you."
He picked up a slim folder from the table and held it out. Natasha stepped forward and took it. Inside were neatly printed sheets with names in crisp black ink.
"It's a list of potential recruits," John explained. "People with talent. Promise. Find them. Reach out."
Natasha flipped open the folder and began reading from the first page.
"Peter Parker. New York. Spider-like abilities. Young, but brilliant. Still in school… good heart."
She turned the page.
"James Rhodes. Military background. War Machine. Loyal. Experienced. Calm under pressure."
"Sam Wilson," John added with a nod. "He just came in with Steve. Ex-para-rescue. Tactical mind. Great in the field."
Next came Scott Lang. Clint couldn't help but grin.
"Ant-Man. Former thief turned part-time hero. Shrinks, cracks jokes, and somehow pulls off the impossible."
John gave a slight smile. "There are a few more. But don't push them. If they're meant to join, they will. It'd be better if Steve could go himself, but he's occupied right now. So this falls to you and Clint."
The Avengers nodded and quietly made their way out, leaving only Thor behind. The Asgardian stood near the table, arms folded, a faint grin still tugging at his lips.
John turned to him.
"Thor," he said seriously, "before you return to helping out… there's someone you need to find."
Thor raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
"Jane Foster."
The grin vanished from Thor's face. His eyes narrowed, sharp and alert.
"She's in danger," John said, his voice firm. "I can't tell you how I know—not yet—but she's not safe. You have to go. Now."
Thor didn't hesitate. No questions. Just a quiet nod. With a flash of thunder, he summoned mjolnir and disappeared in a streak of lightning.
As the echo of thunder faded, John sighed. He wasn't sure if this was the right time… or if he was acting too soon. But he'd seen the signs—small, subtle, but undeniable.
The Nine Realms were shifting again.
The planets were starting to align—just like during the Convergence. Last time, it had nearly torn reality apart. Malekith had almost succeeded in plunging everything into darkness. Though that threat was gone, the alignment itself still carried danger.
John couldn't take any chances.
Sending Thor wasn't only about protecting Jane—it was about putting a god where one might soon be needed. And Jane herself—brilliant and brave—had the potential to become a candidate for Star Academy. If protecting her now ensured her future, John was willing to act.
Now, only the Ancient One remained.
The room, once filled with voices and energy, felt calm and quiet.
John walked over to her slowly.
"I've been meaning to ask," he began, voice softer now, "how's the meditation going?"
She glanced at him, face calm. "Peaceful, as always. Though the world rarely stays quiet long enough to truly enjoy it."
John chuckled. "Fair point."
He hesitated, then asked, "And… Doctor Strange? How's he doing as Sorcerer Supreme?"
A faint smile touched her lips. "He's learning. Fast. Stubborn, a bit reckless… but he's determined. He's not me—and that's exactly why he might be better."
John nodded thoughtfully, then let out a small sigh. There was something more he wanted to say—something he'd been holding back.
"There's another reason I asked you to stay."
The Ancient One tilted her head slightly, listening.
"I want you," John said slowly, "to become the principal of Star Academy for sorcerers, mystics, and those attuned to magic. And I can't think of anyone better to lead it than you."
A long silence followed.
When she finally spoke, her voice was gentle, yet firm.
"No, John."
He looked at her, surprised.
"I'm honored," she said, "but I've already lived a life full of responsibility. I've trained many. Watched them grow, watched some fall. I don't wish to be tied to another institution. Not again. Not with rules and titles."
John didn't argue. He simply nodded, understanding in his eyes.
"But," she added with a faint smile, "if the Avengers ever truly need me… you know where to find me."
John returned her smile, grateful.
After the Ancient One left, John stood alone in the large hall. The offer hadn't worked—but that didn't mean the plan was finished.
He pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
After a few rings, the line clicked.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Coulson. How've you been?" John said warmly.
There was a pause. Then, a familiar voice replied, amused, "Mr. John? Now that's a surprise."
John's tone turned more serious.
"Coulson… I have a job offer for you. I want you to become principal in an academy."
A pause.
"Uh-oh," Coulson said. "I don't like the sound of that tone."
"Too late," John said, grinning. "Coulson, I want you to be the head of operations for Star Academy."
There was a long, dramatic sigh from the other end.
"You've got the wrong guy," Coulson said. "I'm allergic to chalkboards, I hate cafeteria food, and I haven't led anything since that one disastrous karaoke night on the helicarrier."
"You're perfect," John replied firmly. "You're organized, you know everyone, you're calm in chaos, and you've led more young heroes than anyone I know. I didn't even think about anyone else for the role."
Just the Ancient One, John thought in his mind.
There was a beat of silence. Then:
"...Seriously? You didn't even consider Fury?"
"Nick would turn the academy into a spy school and give detention with blindfolds."
"...Fair."
John chuckled. "Come on, Coulson. You're the best for this. Trust me."
Another pause. Then a heavy sigh.
"Fine. But I'm not wearing a tie."
"No tie required."
"And I want my own office with a coffee machine."
"Done."
"And no morning meetings on Mondays."
"...We'll talk about that one."
The call ended with a soft chuckle from both sides.