Marvel's Strongest Mage

"General, please have a seat!" Daniel greeted General Ross warmly, as though he had long anticipated the visit. He poured him a cup of tea with practiced ease, then took the seat opposite him. "This is Mingqian Longjing, imported from China. It's quite rare—especially here in New York."

"Oh?" General Ross raised an eyebrow as he accepted the delicate porcelain cup. Daniel's calm demeanor was unexpected, and his hospitality even more so. Ross didn't jump into the conversation directly. Instead, he took a sip, letting his eyes drift across the room before commenting, "The decor seems a bit… outdated."

Daniel chuckled, slightly caught off guard by the blunt remark. As a seasoned military figure, Ross was clearly not the type to exchange hollow compliments like politicians did. If someone from the political world had come, they might've praised Daniel's space as "refined" or "classically elegant," regardless of their true thoughts.

Then again, Daniel mused, such flattery would typically be reserved for someone of power or influence—not someone like him.

"Well," Daniel said, glancing around at the modest furnishings, "I only moved in a few days ago. I haven't had the time—or connections—to bring in a decorator. But don't worry. I'll be here for at least four years. If I'm accepted into the master's or doctoral program, I might stay even longer. So, eventually, I'll make the place more livable."

Ross narrowed his eyes slightly. "Are you really here just to study?"

Daniel didn't flinch. He expected this. "I know what you're thinking, General. But the truth is, the situation isn't quite what you assume." He poured Ross a fresh cup of tea, then calmly continued, "You may have seen what I did on campus—yes, I know a little magic. But I believe there's been a major misunderstanding about what that means."

Ross set down his cup and leaned forward slightly, his expression sharpening with interest.

"If this were a few centuries ago," Daniel began, "a powerful magician could change the outcome of a war. But over the past hundred years, the influence of magic has declined significantly. In fact, it's become rare to even hear of new magicians. The core reason for this is something we call elemental inertia. On Earth, magic elements have become so sluggish that casting spells has become incredibly difficult. The stronger this inertia, the harder it is to manipulate the elements for magic."

Ross's expression became unreadable as he processed the implications.

"There are still many people like me," Daniel continued, "but we're what you'd call junior magicians at best. It's hard to progress beyond that. Every spell requires extensive preparation. There are limitations. That's why I turned my attention to modern science. After all, if everything in this world is made of magic—then understanding the world deeply is, in a way, understanding magic itself. It may lead to other magical paths."

"Magic inertia..." Ross repeated thoughtfully. He recognized that Daniel's assertion—that all matter is composed of magic—was more philosophical than scientific, but the term inertia intrigued him. If Earth's elemental resistance really was that severe, then even a gifted magician's abilities could be significantly hampered. From a military investment perspective, that would mean low returns.

Ross's mind raced. If Daniel's magic couldn't be enhanced or weaponized further, then his value would be limited. That made recruitment less urgent. Yet, Daniel still possessed powers far beyond an ordinary human, and when dealing with threats like the Hulk, such an asset couldn't be ignored. Perhaps the Thunderbolt Program could still benefit from someone like him.

The Thunderbolt Project—an initiative quietly in progress within the U.S. military—was sparked by the public emergence of superheroes like Tony Stark. As enhanced individuals appeared across the country, the military saw the need for its own superhero unit.

Bronsky had already been a test subject—granted super-soldier serum under Ross's supervision. An expensive and risky move. Though it gave him power, his insubordination on the battlefield made him a liability. His defeat and severe injuries at the hands of the Hulk only reinforced Ross's belief that the military needed controllable, reliable assets.

Daniel might not be expandable like Bronsky, but if he couldn't be enhanced or replicated, perhaps he could still be recruited. The question was: would he agree?

Daniel's appearance—polite, scholarly, and calm—didn't seem like someone eager to join the military. He genuinely seemed focused on his studies.

Ross put on a politician's practiced smile. "I see. But I'd advise caution. The monster we saw today won't let things go so easily. You should be prepared."

Daniel smiled in return, relaxed and amused. "He might be strong, but finding me? That's the hard part. Watch this, General."

With a wave of his hand, Daniel released a shimmer of blue light. It scattered through the room like dust caught in moonlight. In an instant, identical versions of Daniel appeared in the kitchen, the upstairs bedroom, the third-floor attic, and even on the front porch. Ross's eyes widened as he looked around—each copy looked, moved, and even breathed exactly like the original.

During his long exile in Jotunheim, Daniel had found conventional spellcasting nearly impossible. The magical elements of that world were wildly different from Earth's. So instead of raw destruction, he had turned to precision—refining his mastery of ice. Decades of repetition forged him into a formidable ice mage, drawing from ancient Jotunheim lore and even breaking through to the legendary tier of magic.

On Earth, the magic was sluggish, yes. But simple illusions using cold and reflection? That, he could still do—and with elegant efficiency.

He had learned from Loki's style, weaving trickery with subtlety.

Ross stared at the illusionary Daniels around the room, his composure slipping. Daniel, the real one (presumably), spoke again with a hint of pride: "This is just a basic illusion. A smart person could tell the difference with enough observation. But that monster… General, do you really think he has the intellect to figure it out?"

Ross gritted his teeth.

A smart person could tell the difference? He had been watching for minutes and still couldn't identify the real Daniel. Did that mean… he was no better than the Hulk? The comparison gnawed at him.

But more importantly, Ross now understood something vital: Daniel was not someone to pressure, intimidate, or control. He wasn't just powerful—he was calculating. Dangerous in ways Bronsky never could be.