As Henry flipped through the thick tome, The Complete Collection of the Supreme Being, his eyes sparkled with anticipation. According to the text, as long as one understood the relationship between the human body and magical energy, they could begin the practice of magic.
Sounds simple enough, right?
Wrong.
While the book made it sound like anyone could pick up magic like a hobby, Henry—being a practical student from a science background—knew better. Even in the Marvel Universe, magic came with conditions.
White magic, the kind practiced at Kamar-Taj, was originally created by the legendary Vishanti—a trio of cosmic entities who lent their power to worthy mages. Anyone wishing to use this magic had to borrow energy from the Vishanti, specifically the Vishan Emperor.
And borrowing wasn't guaranteed.
You needed magical talent. Some innate ability to connect with those mystical forces.
So when Henry felt that tingling pulse of energy coursing through his body the night before—warm, steady, and unmistakably real—he had only one thought:
"I didn't expect I'd actually qualify as a mage!"
He was genuinely shocked.
He'd been worried that the Ancient One had given him a magic book as some kind of cosmic prank. But no—he could actually feel it. Magic flowed through his body like a stream beneath frozen ground, waiting to be tapped.
That realization sparked his motivation tenfold.
The earlier chapters of the book felt more like a college science textbook than an ancient spellbook—dense with talk of body composition, energy flow, dimensional pressure, metaphysical resonance, and something suspiciously close to quantum mechanics.
But then came the good stuff.
Invisibility spells. Energy projection. Telekinesis. Phasing through walls. Shapeshifting. Spatial manipulation. Portal creation.
Over one hundred distinct forms of white magic were recorded, each more mind-bending than the last.
Henry laughed to himself as he scrolled through a particularly intricate diagram of a teleportation spell.
"Man, I told everyone I believed in science. Now I'm drawing sparkly space portals in my living room."
Naturally, his first lesson had to begin with the basics: Energy Gathering.
This was the foundation for every magical ability. Without learning how to gather and control energy, all the fancier spells were nothing but fairy tales.
According to the book, the process was straightforward—focus inward, locate the flow of energy within the body, and then slowly project it outward in a controlled form.
Henry followed the instructions exactly, concentrating on the center of his chest and willing the energy to gather.
He waited.
Nothing.
Again.
Still nothing.
"Come on…" he whispered, eyes fixed on his hands. "I felt the energy before. Why isn't it working now?"
He tried again. And again. But no matter how hard he focused, no golden light, no energy ribbon, no spark even remotely resembling Doctor Strange's iconic spells appeared.
Why isn't this working?!
Then a thought hit him.
"Wait a minute… The Ancient One gave me the book—but not the Sling Ring?!"
The Sling Ring.
Kamar-Taj's essential tool for beginner mages. Forged by the fifth Sorcerer Supreme, the ring acted as a magical conduit, allowing the wearer to stabilize energy flow and create portals through space.
It helped channel focus and access dimensional energies—especially important for teleportation and spatial spells.
And Henry didn't have one.
He stared down at his empty hands, then groaned and fell back onto the couch.
"Ancient One… You give me homework but don't give me a pencil?"
Maybe it had been an oversight. Maybe a test. Either way, it meant one thing: he'd have to progress the hard way—no artifacts, no shortcuts.
With a deep sigh, Henry steeled himself and returned to the text.
For the next several hours—maybe even days—he did nothing but practice.
He sat cross-legged in the middle of his living room, surrounded by empty energy drink cans, focused like a man possessed.
Sometimes he'd try drawing symbols in the air.
Sometimes he'd whisper incantations.
Most of the time, he just stared at his hands, begging them to glow.
Then, finally, it happened.
One quiet morning, after a long night of meditation, Henry cupped his hands together—and something responded.
A tiny flicker of golden light sparked between his palms.
He gasped. The warmth returned. The energy responded.
As he rotated his hands, the light twisted into a small square—glowing softly like a holographic sigil. Then it expanded into a shimmering energy array, swirling with mystic symbols.
Henry's eyes widened. He was doing it.
Over the next day, he practiced that array over and over again, refining his control, increasing its duration.
From one minute to ten.
Then he could conjure it on command, control its shape, stabilize its glow.
He was ready for the next step.
Teleportation. The Door of Secrets.
Teleportation magic was one of the most recognizable techniques of Kamar-Taj—used to open portals from one place to another by drawing a circular motion with the Sling Ring.
Of course, Henry still didn't have a Sling Ring. But the book claimed a skilled practitioner could still cast without one. It would just be… a lot harder.
The process was simple in theory.
Picture the destination.
Focus your energy into a rotating hand motion.
Slice open the dimensional space.
Step through.
Simple.
Except, of course, it wasn't.
He tried it again and again. For hours. Days.
At first, nothing happened.
Then came sparks.
Then small rings.
Then a tiny golden ripple appeared—and vanished.
But Henry didn't give up.
He couldn't give up. He needed to see it work.
Then, on one night, during one more attempt…
It worked.
A perfect circle appeared in midair, the edges glowing, rippling like a puddle of molten gold.
Henry's jaw dropped.
He did it.
He actually opened a portal.
Without wasting another second, he stepped forward—and walked through.
The sensation was strange. Like walking through a gust of warm wind that tugged at his body and folded him through the fabric of space.
When he stepped out, he expected to see the monks of Kamar-Taj. Maybe even the Ancient One.
Instead, he stepped onto a rooftop.
One he definitely didn't recognize.
And directly in front of him?
Tony Stark getting slammed into a wall.
Henry blinked.
"What the hell—?!"
Across from Tony, a massive figure in a black steel suit loomed, lifting him off the ground like a toy.
Henry's eyes widened as he realized exactly what was happening.
This was the final fight from Iron Man 1.
Obadiah Stane, in his Iron Monger suit, was beating Tony within an inch of his life.
And Henry?
He had just casually teleported into the middle of it.
Obadiah paused mid-punch, stunned by the sudden magical vortex that opened in front of him.
Tony, now dangling from his grip, also turned his head weakly toward Henry.
"…Henry?"
Henry stared at the both of them.
He looked down at his hands. No ring. No weapon. Just a spell book back home and a little energy in his veins.
He turned and looked behind him.
The portal was already gone.
"…Oh, come on!" he muttered under his breath.
Then, swallowing the lump in his throat, he looked up and raised a hand awkwardly.
"Uh… hey, Tony. I think I… showed up at the wrong time."
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